Black Hole Prophecies - Foreign Beggars

We gather in celebration of life, when embracing the mic

One taste of my strife, full straight from fight

Raising my right fist, blazingly hyped

Stating my right to recite, I’ll be taking a flight

Lazin' above clouds, ravin' up high, I

Sail to my touchdown when I clutch crowds and I bust loud

And instruct how the rhyme form can be twisted, can be

Lifted above norms, handed visions

Random writtens that drop jaws, making your clock pause, I’m

Shaming to clog pores, aiming to lock jaws, changing the fuck laws

As we come to the fore, inspired by the sweet scent of skunk from the floor

Words tumbling forth, crumbling hordes

In verses they stumble of course, and burst under my force

Survivors left with their wonder and awe, we exit stage left to a thunderous

applause

He lives alone in a black hole

It’s the bow-legged masochist, who’s savage with a crack pole

He snatched souls, ravaged whole towns and villages

Stole pounds with which he fills the cold mouth he dribbles with

He comes around you with his gold and brown vintage kicks

Trying to snoop around to use some old sounds from ninja flicks

They let him go about his business, said he wasn’t to be trusted since he tends

to things with clenched fists

Iron Man slang is the one with the vile tongue

Spit venom, still spit yelling by the nile home

Ice-faced vagrants take flight like a bird of prey

We murder, praise, first enslave vermin, break their vertebrae

Pilot plans scams from the brain of the Sire scum

Higher strand math from a stray who defiles slums

We walk forward, make haste until the sundown

Living to the fullest, feel like bullets from a thundercloud

He came to Earth to make a mark on this existence

With a strategy so elusive most remark with thick indifference

It’s the visions of the ancients, lost words of the episcopal

Risen from within, he sips a gourd that’s filled with pilfered souls

As though he walks amongst the damned, holding nothing but a cold can of

fiction in his hand

He was a storyteller, outlaw, working on a masterpiece

Head amidst his hands, he chased the stars until the laughter ceased

A charming thief bestowed forth into oblivion

Caught past the millions of warlord’s forced dominions

The cohorts of billions, the raw stock simian

Forethought sought to spawn his brawn amongst his minions

He spread his wisdom with a strange grin

The Grand-Wizard-Alchemist-Prison-Rat who chased skin

He played king to all those who drifted

The sweet taste of sin plagued the tin he pegged his lips with

I hobble home in the shredded threads of a borrowed robe

But my bottle holds sorrows in a hollow hold

See, I’m of the Apollo mold

Meaning I drift though space fireball with a copper tone

Me, I run a rhythm like a cartel

Never stop giving them the sharp nail, hard tale

We impart dark tales in the deep of night

Poised, the poison tips all sail at the speed of light

Iron Man slang is the one with vile tongue

Spit venom, still strip yelling by the hollow home

Ice-faced vagrants take flight like a bird of prey

We murder, praise, first enslave vermin, break their vertebrae

Pilot plans scams from the brain of the Sire scum

Higher strand math from a stray who defiles slums

We walk forward, make haste until the sundown

Living to the fullest, feel like bullets from a thundercloud