Ragnarok - My Hate Is His Spirit

[Raw J]

this youngsta told me hip hop music to him was magnetic

like the north and south pole contained

I'm takin headphones to the brain with the volume crankin

absorbin the surroundings on the last car on the bart train

them words on the tape soothed out

but the majority of the passengers moved out

when his eyes opened, mine closed

I'm on stage feelin like this mic ain't on

how come the crowd don't respond?

a poem without a home exhaled with smoke when I spoke this

made from a spirit not from earth guiding me when I wrote this

will y'all slump this?

hold each and one of my peoples in a circumference

paradox though

one speaker box rocks slow

watch the asphalt blow

to you my music sounds distorted, a mute maze

folks that looked like me glanced sideways

please notify or tell me

how our voices got caught up in this devilish geometry

cold circuitry put the latches on unbottled spirits

I could've rode to it, grooved with it

now can't even stand it

all I ever tried to do was transmit what should of been demanded...goddamnit!



and the loudest voice shall prevail, above and below

and more ground-hoggin it and sell your soul...i see too many

doin for themselves

can't think for themselves

a victim to the gravy train on musical scales...

on musical shelves, low-budge ink smudge, hiss or not hip hop's greatest grudge

but I was born to walk this earth in my own world but in your presence

break bread with bankrupt nobles or wealthy peasants

unwritten code holds the clues to those who keep the essence

cash the crop now we left to scrape the culture's resin

sold my name, sold my thoughts 5 dollars a shot

no fame, hip hop scotch but a game

with these heads hard at work with a quirk to define

mentally out of shape leads to out of line--behavior, now that

that shit seems out of whack

you outta scratch, outta gas, do you plan to outlast?

out to rob or out to steal

out your mind, outta luck give a fuck the feenoms is gonna shine like this track here

captivating are those--who got good rhyme, good vibe, good flows


[Side B]

its only twice, in a blue moon precise that a tune sounded nice

fo' the price you paid

a pretty penny for plenty but not many sufficed if any...

we testifyin with mo' proof than Henny that-any cat-say there's

no such thang as a muthafuckin feenom track that don't

bang...cuz when its laid

its laced fatter than puma suedes

the package worth twice the price consumers paid

but we still underpaid, records underplayed, who didnt have

enough bread to spread the marmalade?

it's like broke pimps with half priced hookers

we let it boil then steam like rice cookers

I stood alone slangin tapes in crowded masquerades

my nights spent swingin ball-point blades to cut wax

rollin dice with snake-eyed players then hit craps

with raps on slipmats we circulate at high velocity...

Ain't tryin to cop, yall cats killed my curiousity


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