you see this dead army, it could live if you want it to,
everybody said, they were dead, they got nothing new,
just bluffing through,
they said they were chosen ahead, frozen instead now, that your running through,
drastic times,
they call for massive rhymes,
to pull those that fall for disposable plastic lines,
alas you'll find, the little mass inside,
just a valley of dry bones, where we used to recite poems,
until i felt a rush, a rally of cyclones,
begin to speak to me, within, they're deep in me,
what were they seeking b?
they're here to reap a seed,
a swift wind, blows in me, with a gift of flows to feed,
to lift up those in need. it was supposed to be,
as a kid it was composed in me.
some seeds were thrown to weeds........

to be continued.

lol fake american accent.

Im rusty as hell ok Im serious this time

The atomic structure of the mic is comparable to that of a blade
The way I swing my cord is kinda like the whip used on slaves
I concoct devious plans to over-run the world
My rhymes have that potential, I brainwash fans to follow my every word
Why u spitting garbage kid? Hip Hop isnt the career choice u should take
Instead u should consider sitting in a corner and slicing ya wrist with ice skates

wow Im rusty
I gotta get back on track

so his was more complex