Introducing! (Slangs-ton Hughes)

Discussion in 'Poetry Realm' started by lyrical lev, Jun 28, 2003.

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  1. lyrical lev

    lyrical lev New Member

    Oct 3, 2002
    Slangs-ton Hughes

    Deferred while daydreaming scheming for ways to keep my words breathing/
    poetic renaissance, recite the uncut raw form/
    the art of spiting, bars and rhymes are instantly born/
    I was birthed wit a mic in palm ready for war, a verse on my tongue/
    let the prolific Sylvia pour, my mother’s heartbeat playing in musical unison
    wit my breathing patterns was my drum/
    the blessing of life when I hold a mic, this is holy hip-hop come to the light son/
    out of fear I spill sonnets like tears hoping my poems touch ears/
    it’s a must that you listen what I’m spiting is censer/
    translations of prophesies written in past years/
    wit rhymes sometimes its like I’m speaking a dead language to my peers/
    but yet my lyrics are deceased to speech, receive messages from lost beats in my sleep/
    I can’t breathe, melodies jump in and out of my dreams/
    in fact I’m a musical fiend, marry tracks to beautiful vocals wit ease/
    put all my pain on pages, so you’ll never see emotions staining my sleeve's/
    through ink I reach for your soul when pens speak/
    the ghetto griot, prophet from the projects, poet laureate of the streets/
    for the right price men I’ll role dice on your life/
    I don’t stress or toke cess I bless mics, infinite spiritual fight/
    I won’t rest till I can’t write, solemn scriptures illustrate the picture it’s life/
    and as long as I’m spiting I’m living giving truth until the farther snuffs out my existence/
    I epitomize poetry my nights are like misery too much in me, I touch page and blaze a symphony, visually paint a perfect portrait of past memories/
    respect my sect, hip-hop at its best this is my ministry/
    the streets talk in circles while I draw verses like visions the dimensions are universal/
    not to mention that my purpose in more than verbal/
    pay attention it can get controversial, perspective of my principal position is raw/
    “standing for a cause, slugs leave lungs on pause/
    my pen won’t stop until hip-hop is free of charge”/
    you can’t create art it’s a gift from God/
    so through the spirits of the greats I spit these bars/
    true form, I was born to fuse lyrics wit life like the blues/
    street poet Slangs-ton Hughes, left graphiti inside my mother’s womb/
    so I guess you could say I write or try to bless the blind wit sight/
    extremely tight vernacular seamstress, nice when I recite/
    yet at smoking mics I’m the meanest, release it soon as I receive it/
    lines start bleeding, fully focused and spoken in broken ENGLISH/
    listen B, as long as I can DREAM I’m a remain on my feet/
    spiting the real, my destiny can’t be DEFERRED like some college bill/
    the knowledge is real and to deep, I refer you to the source of this piece/
    instead of poems I write preys and spit em before I sleep/
    only got so much time to make my presence felt, Christ is calling/
    so I’m not stalling, cause I know one day I’m “going to meet the man” just like Baldwin/
    reminiscing I listen to the wind whisper when I’m walking/
    messages sent from all six senses and elements, Slangs-ton Hughes presents/
    the purest form that exists, this is thee art of spit/

    Slangs-ton Hughes/
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