True Gangster

True Gangstas’ kock a glock

 

BBbbbbbrrbrbrbrbrrbrbrbrrrATTT!!

BBbbbrrbrbrbrbrbrbrraATT!!!

 

^^ sound of my gat

AAA+++++++++++++ loots sig

MCPB for the win!!!

 

 

 

 

 

I make def tunes. Take from MF Doom and Jeff Koons. No

one left for the restrooms when I got on stage. I can rock

the mic to silence by Jon Cage with the arty flavor. I shoot

the gift like a party favor. Flip the script and makes it do

cartwheels. Feel smart, steal hearts and start meals with

chocolate. I drop gems like I got holes in my pockets.

 

Why talk? Heck. Oh shuck. I catches wreck like a

towtruck, silly kid. I’m iller than the Iliad and show more

than Shoah while you’re so corny you’ve got to SOHCAHTOA.

PEMDAS EFX, the number one skirmisher. I’m in the house like

furniture, pessimist. I’ll push the envelope off a precipice.

I push the envelope so hard, it goes, “Excuse you.”

 

Take two and pass. Make you spin on your *edited* like a

green paint sprinkler on white grass. I’m rapping, son.

“You’re not my Dad.” If you think you think outside the box,

you’re trapped in one. I’m advancing the art form. Depantsing

a fart storm. Some people don’t like thinking. Guess it’s too hard for them.

 

My dope duds don’t touch soap suds. I keep it realer

than a rotoscope does. I keep it more Gully than Jonathon

Livingston.

 

Brag rhymes have no lag times: Acrostics, narratives,

Fibbonacci challenge poems, declarative palindromes,

manifestos. My five fans can attest, yo.

 

Coming soon? Morse Code, Origami, Kirigami, Krikigami.

issue harsher restraints. And if I had any rhythm maybe you’d finally faint.

 

The way I communicate can make a dang eunuch mate. I

write first person light verse in a white hearse and I’m the

ne plus ultra of B+ culture. My goal is to make you go, “Holy

frijoles! Jesus H. Christ,” where “H.” stands for “Holy crap.” To boldly rap into the outer reaches. This doubter

teaches defining God as aligning a divining rod with a hot

chick’s reclining bod. ‘Cause life is fickle. Hellish.

Anemic. Sickle cellish. Dude. You’ll get chopped up like

pickle relish.

 

And when we perish, we’re–what’s the term, dude?

“Worm food.”

 

Worm food. Friends’ memories fade. You’re remembered by what

you’ve made. So I intertwine my mind and my rhymes in a

braid. I bungie jump into my grungy dump and come up with a

trust fundy dust bunny spongy clump.

 

MC Paul Barman “Excuse You”

and dont forget

 

deltron 3030

or

del the funky homosapian

or

deltron z

or

deltron zero

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wanna devise a virus

To bring dire straits to your environment

Crush your corporations with a mild touch

Trash your whole computer system and revert you to papyrus

I want to make a super virus

Strong enough to cause blackouts in every single metropolis

Cuz they dont wanna unify us

So *edited* it total anarchy

Can’t nobody stop us

 

You see late in

the evening

*edited*ed up on my computer and my mind starts roaming

I create like a heathen

The first cycles of this virus I can send through a modem

Infiltration hits your station

No microsoft or enhanced dos will impede

Society thinks thier safe when

Bingo! harddrive crashes from the rendering

Alot of hackers tryed virus’s before

Vaporize your text like so much white out

I want it where a file replication is a chore

Lights out shut down the entire whitehouse

I dont want just a bug that could be corrected

Im erecting immaculate design

Break the nation down section by section

Even to the greatest minds its impossible to find

 

I wanna devise

a virus

to bring dire straits to your environment

crush your corporations with a mild touch

trash your whole computer system and revert you to papyrus

I want to develop a super virus

Better by far then that old y 2 k

This 3030 the time of global unification break right through they

terminals, burn em all

Slaves to silicon

Curupt politicians with leaders and thier keywords

F.B.I and spys stealin bombs

Decipitate thier plans in thier face and catch the fever

Everybody loot the stores get your caned goods

Even space stations are having a hard time

Beast keeepers seek to take our manhood

Which results in the form of global aparthied

Ghettos are trash dumps with gas pumps

Exploding and burnt out since before the great union

The last punks walk around like masked monks

Ready to manipulate the data base and break through em

Human rights come in a hudreth place

Mass production has always been number one

New Earth has become a repungnent place

So its time to spread the fear and the thunder some

 

I wanna devise a virus

to bring dire straits to your environment

crush your corporations with a mild touch

trash your whole computer system and revert you to papyrus

I wanna devise a virus

to bring dire straits to your environment

crush your corporations with a mild touch

trash your whole computer system and revert you to papyrus

 

0-[-DELTRON 3030 .|:.:|. VIRUS-]-0