Temple of the Lost Sun.

Master, master please help me, help me master....

I learnt all the skills you taught me, I’m getting closer, the hiphop temple is next, they have conquered all the basic genres around the realm, so hiphop is definitely next, master please help us. The mainstream skill be moving faster through the legions, from village to village they be consuming everything on their path. I know I hold the 36 chambers knowledge, but like Mulan still aint seen the flaming bird on my side, my chi be strong ,hold skills, bravery and thoughts of the ancients, moves like the tiger paws, silent as the mantis, though I heard these cats gat crunk. Scrolls I perfected, spit flames like the G.O.T dragon, history not on my side though, aint no Kane and Able story. 

Destiny, perfected metaphors, skills beyond the god sun Thor, senses and sight be clear, as they direct, everything you taught me, falling into place, puzzles put to pieces, pieces left to stay, so I swear master to protect hiphop with my blood, I know my spits and metaphors spill easy like lava on volcano grounds. Pull out my double edged sword, this here is for the second platoon..skilled brothers bred through years, that samurai flow that they gat. My mission is to be last, lost sun monk to hold the temple wall. Memories of the mantis now crips on me, movement be swift, as time is of the essence, I switch to my ninja form, so I can stealthily move to protect this course. Master, master they still gat moves I aint seen before. temple wall has been breached. What next master? I mastered all the scrolls, from Tai chi to the tiger paw..for hiphop to survive I need help from the 36 chambers of the wutang masters..I will hold the fort of the Temple as long as I can..master send the word to the wutang  masters..send the word to the wutang masters.

The Black aftermath.

I break my dark thoughts decisively, just to speak my mind in a form thats understood, corner stuck now like an Eskimo in freakin Sudan, that’s how easily my words land, in a box breathing, but six feet sand filled, point of holding the rosary calling out for arc angels to save me, I Gatta breath now, gotta let my blood flow, dirt, greed and power. Cortex in a form of Pinocchio, body manipulated to stipulate, what the world wants, but off the wooden mask, skills spill my master can’t see the nose level increase, Bit by bit. Picked my pen up to dismiss these scrolls from your past.

Tell me how they got the Trojan horse in..history messing with me, like my forefathers were born in Africa but didn’t know till Columbus saw it! continent was non existent until them ships came in, like we didn’t know our creator until the Bible came through, we couldn’t live until we got their medicine? I gat history for days to break new century phrases, my cousins spoke in holy tongues unknown hieroglyphics. broke the basics of constellations, we brought math in fractions, steel made worriors, Shaka Zulu, the Kenyan Mau Mau..in stealth mode, our land, a continent we could hide in clear site. been fighting with Kings of the jungle.. all our life..that was our play time, messing around with elephants, we roll with lions as pets in the Serengeti.  just to pass time, when you be fighting on Prenups .. best check my history before you judge my style, intelligence and street Steez. I be as easy as a Jamaican Bingi..my hair locks me to the land of gods, I be  lost sun the dread locked African.

Bleeding fingers form patterns.

The lost sun, I have been to the ninth planet with no flying objects…My bleeding fingers still form patterns.

So dig this.

I break my dark thoughts decisively, to speak in a form thats understood by the rest of you..definition of skills, Stephen king flic in an instance, words now come last, picture perfect..I tore of a page of Da Vinci’s last supper master piece..mastering Harry Houdini’s…. one bullet theory, no more basic phrase sentences, move back signs, like beware ‘’ sick mind at work’’. i be the kind relocating thoughts, your psychiatrist phrased in a common beat session, the sneer kills my time period, when your money is up. Leave you believing that you’ll be safer if you top up.. I simply formulate like meth heads in a lab scribbling chalk boards on how to penetrate the core of your vortex..inner most mind, pick through brain sections, Hannibal Lecter style.

From the birth of the universe, my Father the creator..gave me passes through levels in time, forged my thoughts through dimensions with signs, Exosphere, Thermosphere, Mesosphere, Stratosphere, my grade now rests on the Troposphere , a recreation of beings that’s now here, knowledge is clear, Hiphop is the word we speak and now they all must hear, no longer rhyme and reason .. it’s pure…basic thoughts and reason, I don’t rhyme to fit in, my bloody finger ink lines...are just deep..metaphors control my train of thought…thats just it…words align on paper the matrix..as i write, fit in perfect.. a Shaolin monk with samurai skills..always a step ahead in life like on the chess boards…that Kenyan cat..air skating like the silver surfer..leaving my prints in every hood I bless with the arc angles touch..check my bloody fingers..I leave patterns.