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Braille - Poetry in Motion part three
(from the album Scatter Brain)
© copyright 2005


This is the sequel to a sequel in sequence. Sequel. Sequel to the sequel in the sequence.

Poetry in motion, bodies moving to the messenger
I got a date with eternity, my tableís been reserved
So the rest of me can pass away, I speak from the soul
So shocking I got you hairstyle looking like a troll
Plastic figurines, I rip microphones to smithereens
What I say might sting like washing your face with Listerine
I like my beats bakes fresh like a Krispy Kreme
Straight out the oven with the heaters, youíre now listening
To Braille Brizzy, itís a mystery how I never miss a
Chance to flip a style, kill the beat and take it out itís misery
Bring the IV like Roman numeral four
I got the cure, found it praying with my face to the floor
Humility and confidence, I want both in the booth
I was blessed with the ability, so really thereís no excuse
If you ask me to battle, I probably wonít participate
If I was interested, Iíd be the first to initiate
Iíd rather make albums, write songs, and do performances
Most my freestyles turned to written raps for recorded hits
Iím always down to spit rhymes in a cypher sessions
But Iím know to leave emcees stressed out with hyper tension

Poetry in motion, bodies going through convulsions
Sporadic, when I grab the microphone, itís an explosion
No doubt I got you open, donít front, I got you open wide
Open eyes when I illustrate intellect with the dopest lines
My focused mind is focused on provoking thought
If I get exposed or not, I know Iím supposed to rock
Youíre either cold or hot, thereís no in between
Thatís while Iím sparking from the mouth while Iím spitting gasoline
A double dose of extra strength lyrics for your headache
Think tank tearing through wastelands, get ready
The steady rock, easy to comprehend so it transcends
Taking you to places you ainít never been before
Iím holding on, youíre gripping life with arthritis
Somebody call the doc, the moneyís a microphone virus
Got rappers trying to cross over like Al & I
Thatís why I gotta let out this battle cry, hoorah
Youíre coughing on the mic, trying to be sick
Acting like youíre deep, talking Ďbout chemistry and Egypt
Iím just placing words where I see fit
Punching at the track Ďtil itís paraplegic