The Lyrical Assassins Brotherhood Poetry

Microphone Massacre

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21 responses

  1. allen simmons

    David, I love how you seem to find the right pic to fit each topic brother.

    March 4, 2012 at 9:08 am

    • Thanks brother, You know I gots the graphics skills. lol. Great write as usual. It got me motivated. Keep on bringing’em.

      David

      March 4, 2012 at 1:26 pm

  2. Microphone Massacre
    Lucky Lefty

    I am a lyrical monster ripping mic cords
    Emcee extraordinaire gripping your life force
    Strangling microphones, something to fight for
    Hip hop to the bone, pure bread, the right source
    Follow the corpses, bodies bags laid on the pavement
    Psychotic killer, post bail, skip the arraignment
    Kidnap’em leave’em tide up in the basement
    On that Biggie type flow, spitting that deranged shit
    Line’em up, plug’em in and I’ll kick out the speakers
    Flow goes deeper, lift’em out they sneakers
    Lucky Lefty killing’em; the Grim Reapers sleeper
    Saint Valentine massacre, jeepers creepers
    Follow the leader, a mic fiend, call me the R
    Slicing’em up, blood bath when I drop these bars
    Wycleff on this joint, Ghetto Superstar
    Leaving no traces, death faces, don’t give a fuck who you are
    No mercy, the Lyrical Assassin decap’in; watch’em fall
    See my tongue is a blade and I’m massacring’em all
    Dislocated, discombobulated, got’em dropping they jaws
    Because I’m the most fucked up shit that they ever saw
    Awwww

    March 4, 2012 at 10:49 am

    • allen simmons

      Tight to def!

      March 4, 2012 at 1:56 pm

    • Damn! That’s hot!

      March 5, 2012 at 9:42 pm

  3. David you are on fire! I love your poetry always! This hit is Explosive as well as Motivating! Keep em coming!

    March 4, 2012 at 1:34 pm

    • Thank you Belinda, I appreciate the support.

      David

      March 5, 2012 at 3:54 am

  4. allen simmons

    I rip off heads and stomp out guts
    Big boy Swagg is mine and I rock a dope strut
    Many angles to my floetry, yes by design
    Not German engineered, but still refined
    I’m a Maybach on the Mic, Extreme and first rate
    Argumentative at times, we can debate
    Primary specialist of the verbal type
    A futuristic lyrical assassins prototype
    A Terminator of sorts, yes that is I
    Lyrical Grim Reaper, Lord, I’m so fly
    Break glass, then please step back,
    I’m gone in the zone, when I’m on the attack
    Ain’t a miracle, I’m spiritual hyped and original
    Upgraded to modern times from analog to digital
    Herbs work my nerves, cause they can’t stand me
    It’s your fault that yo shit is wack B
    Cliqued up with the best, and we challenge our Skillz
    We became crucial with it niggas, we didn’t fall off and chill
    We damage Mics on a regular basis, Destroy varied opponents
    Many unfamiliar faces, Enough about my resume, its speaks for itself
    Grab one of the slain opponents, over there on the shelf!

    March 4, 2012 at 2:10 pm

  5. MURDER THE MICROPHONE LIKE A MC BANDIT, WHEN EVER I UNLEASH SOME JUST CANT STAND IT… SO i DIP BACK INTO THIS VERBAL ASSINATION, SPIT ON THE MIC LIKE I”M FUCKIN LACTATING.. RELEASE THE ENERGY OF 1000 MISSLES, MY LYRICS ARE BLASTING LIKE A DOUBLE BARRELL PISTOL… MAYDAY MAYDAY I SENT UP A TRANSMITTER, Some One Call Oswald And Tell them It’s Mayhem In the Perimeter…. MY Left Hand Left Holding All the Clues, This CLIQUE Here is Known for Breakin All Rules…. Bottoms UP when I be On that SPIT SHYT, Thoughts Come To My Head Like A GIFTS and SHYT, SMOKING Verbs Like SPIFFS and SHYT….Mighty Tongue with a Penchant for Timing, I Got More Verses Than A Riddler Rhyming… True To My Causes True To My Name, My Credentials Are Encased In Da Hall Of Fame… I Even Spar My Own fukin Ego->She wanna Be Equal-> My Dialect is Illegal, Unless I can Prove Me Other Wise It’s Bye Bye Amigo.. SO Cheers To Her Plus You And Me, This Here Is The Click And We THROWIN UP Deeze….. (DUCES)

    March 5, 2012 at 4:23 am

    • Wheew, I just bought a new fire extinguisher and now I got ta use it all up on this flow. Hot Hot Hot.

      David

      March 5, 2012 at 4:50 am

  6. I REALY AM FEELING THIS ALLEN , YOU ALWAYS HAVE A WAY WITH WORDS AND VERSES….

    March 5, 2012 at 4:25 am

  7. its been a minute but im still in it killin wit lyrics how i do
    16 bars of sadistic mayhem Candi’s Cane is comin thru
    i crush u with the bottom of my timb leave a tree stamped on ur forehead
    and im rollin wit the LAB fuck wit us there’ll be mo dead
    but back to why im here i came to bring tha pain
    i may sound sweet but dont be fooled by the softness of my name
    i am lyrically deranged and a gemini to boot
    i R.I.P niggaz so wear ya funeral suit
    i let loose like bowels nigga throw in tha towel
    lead the lyrical army mo efficient than colin powell
    yeah i look nice but my tongue cut sharp like a samuri sword
    ride beats like mass transit u gotta pay to board
    and i dont take tokens im str8 chokin them wack lyrics u spit
    yeah my bars are funky but you tha one spittin wack shit
    dats it….im off this…..headed back to tha lab
    ask usher to remind u that u cant fuck wit me nigga u got it bad………….

    lmfaoooooooooooo……here u go D…..im off to bed…love ya

    March 5, 2012 at 4:50 am

    • You got it, you got it, you got it BAAAAD.

      That was hot Candie

      David

      March 5, 2012 at 4:52 am

    • I gots it bad, burning’em up and pulling off the scabs
      Spit flows like alcohol on’em, sit back and laugh
      Talking trash, abuse the mic, spit on it and dash
      Lucky Lefty, Dirty Cash, busting shots in they ass
      Chest strapped with C4, when I came through the door
      They came in together, but left in pieces when I pulled the cord
      Hands up, bodies and money stacked high on the floor
      Lyrical Assassins clique pulling gatts, high to the core
      Kush, Kush, puff puff, inhale make it last, hold it in
      So I massacre the mic every time I toke it in
      Opposition on lock, hold up, I’m closing it
      The mirror keeps screaming at me, “YOUR SUPPOSE TO WIN”
      I’m dissecting it, me and Candi Cane spit this shit live
      “Who da fuck is you”, we the new Bonnie and Clyde
      Gatt in my left hand and Bonnie on my right side
      When I spit it, the mic gets turned on, open wide
      Then I drill it, massacre it and left it broken to die

      March 5, 2012 at 5:18 am

  8. ManGOD

    Death by Microphone

     
    SHOTS RING OUT FROM THE CONCERT MONITORS,
    A MASSACRE BY THE G WITH THE FEAR INDUCING MONIKER
    OF “CHARACTER ASSASSIN”, 
    AS HE LEAVES’EM GRASPIN’
    FOR RHYMES TO A PRAYER
    AS THEIR LIVES START TO FLASHIN’!

    SALIVATIN’ AS THE SNUB NOSE SPITZ,
    DIALECTS OF DEATH IN A ALL OUT BLITZ…..
    MAKIN’ UR RHYMES POST
    MORTEM, POSTOPERATIVE, WITH BRASS KNUCKLE IMPRINTS AND LAST RITE SUPERLATIVES!

    BENEVOLENT RULER OF THA HIP-HOP WORLD, A CHORTLE OF TRIUMPH AS LINGUAL BULLETS SWIRL,
    LEAVING CARCASSES STREWN ‘CROSS THE LANDSCAPE OF RAP,
    HEADS DECAPITATED, AND RAPS’ BACKBONE SNAPPED! 

     SKINNY BRIM TILTED, BLOODLUST SATED,
    SOULS IN PURGATORY, VERBS UNWASTED,
    G’THANG GROOVE, THA HOOD KING BRACES
    FOR THE RIGHT TO LAY CLAIM TO THA LIFE HE HAS TASTED!
    THA NEXT WANNABE, THA NEXT WANNASEE, THA NEXT DOOMED TO THA WASTELANDS TRYNA BE LIKE ME

     YA MAKES THE ASSUMPTION
    THAT THIS DISCUSSION’S
    A “PASSING THA TORCH” DECISION
    YA GOTS THA GUMPTION TO CAUSE DISRUPTION
    IN MY “ART OF WAR” INFLICTION?
    FOOL, YOUR INTERRUPTION
    GIVES PAUSE FOR THE UNCTION
    OF YOUR BLOOD FOR THA RITUAL SACRIFICE!
    FUCK WIT ME, I’LL MAKE YA SEE,
    UR ANTICS HAVE A PRICE!

     LET ME GIVE U SUMP’IN FOR UR CONSUMPTION,
    I AIN’TS TO BE DEFEATED!
    CONJUNCTION JUNCTION, WHAT’S MY FUNCTION?
     NO IFS, ANDS OR BUTS, UR AZZ IS DELETED!
    SKOOLHOUSE ROCK YA!
    HOLLOW POINTS DROP YA!
    DESERT EAGLE PILL! 
    STRETCH YA OUT LIKE A DEFEATED BILL 
    ON THA STEPS OF CAPITOL HILL! 

    DIRT NAP BYTCH,
    DONE FINISHED WIT UR FRICTION!
    MY SERMON’S FRESH ABOUT AN INTERVENTION.
    “HAIL FULL OF GRACE, FORGIVE MY HASTE!” I TELLS THA CONGREGATION.
    “UR SIN’S ATONED, UR SOUL’S GONE HOME ,
    CHURCH’S OUT!  RISE FOR THA BENEDICTION!”

    FLOWZ BY ManGOD

     

     

     

     

     

    .

    March 5, 2012 at 3:59 pm

    • Father forgive me for abusing the microphone
      For leaving it dead and laid out, another life atoned
      I’m a venomous snake, spitting poisonous acid
      Enter the system, overload so massive
      Flow hit and crash this, I blast shit
      Sitting on top of the world – Lenny Kravitz
      I’m a bad kid, I’m a basket
      Case, crazed, leaving’em dead in plastic
      While the flow plays, call me the Matchstick
      Man, taking they shit, like a hunnid grand
      Speakers, woofers, tweeters, amplifiers
      Sitting in the pew, singing to the choir
      Momma, I never been a liar
      I’ve been killing mics and sending thy souls higher
      Kerosene flow, always spitting fire
      3rd degree burns left too long in the fryer
      Left’em cooked up, shook up
      Why the fuck did it even get hooked up
      Broken as fuck trying to look up
      It’s over, put the prayer books up
      Too much yellow tape and chalk lines
      Identified as another off crime
      Overloaded and left off line
      Left massacred, sorry officer, the finger prints are not mine

      March 5, 2012 at 4:59 pm

  9. Smoking newports, sipping OE, feeling tipsy
    I came from the gutta until the flow done lift me
    An underground emcee, don’t give a fuck if you don’t get me
    Off the fukkin charts, ain’t no way you can test me
    Still I’m the mic stalker, 666 printed on my forehead
    When I grab it, I kill it, leaving’em on the floor dead
    I’m radioactive, my flows are nuclear warheads
    Fuck a pen or pencil, my mouth is spitting more lead
    I’m left hype every time I see dead mics
    Rockaby baby, tuck’em in the bed tight
    From out my soul, I spit it from my chest right
    Blowing’em out brains, until they bled light
    Welcome to the afterlife; left’em in mic heaven
    Coroner placed the time of death, 5 after eleven
    It’s alright, I’m almighty like my name was Evan
    With more burn notices then Mike Westen
    Somebody said, keep’em coming so I emcee’d
    And I move the crowd, every time a mic tempts me
    Keep on spitting’em until every flow is empty
    And the bodies are piled up to the ceiling

    March 5, 2012 at 7:38 pm

  10. shantell Cooper

    Shantell Cooper I LIKE The Sound of that Fam To Fam Greeting, Let’s Have a Don Sit Down You Know That Mob Type Meeting… We’ll Pick Ya’ll Up In a all Black Limo, Scratch off the Rest in Peace Sign No Subliminal… Hand ova Hand We Do Firm Finger Clinching, I SEE you Be that King Purple they Be Mentioning.. I Be that Chick They Call The Predator Enforcer, Always giving everybody a Run down you Know The Once Over.. We Gotta Find Another place of Meeting cause the Chruch I Anit Going, I got that Demon Spirit On Me You Know Like The Omen.. Well gotta go So I can get out and Enjoy the Sun, AND I’m I’m Sure the Family Get together Will be Nothing but Good Fun….

    Wuz

    March 5, 2012 at 7:51 pm

  11. AFTERMATH is the skin decaying on your bones
    because you keep touchin my microphones
    didn’t you see the police tape and the orange street cones
    that was your warning to go the fuck home
    leave my stage alone
    that chalk outline is where the last punk mc lay prone
    you think I give a fuck if I inked yo sorry ass dead
    with the flows of those prose that I bled
    you just became a statistic
    bitch please get realistic
    my shit is damn near mystic
    you spitter-spatter your chitter-chatter like to me it’s really gonna matter
    like an egg hittin the ground, on the stage yo dreams I splatter
    please don’t ask me to give a fuck
    because yo stupid pen just ran outta luck
    it was your ego that got yo rappin ass stuck
    I drop flows on ho’s and joes like I’m a fucking dump truck
    I’m the ring around yo bathtub
    after you do your scrub a dub dub
    from playin wit yo Mr. Bubble
    there’s no warning label on me muthafucka, but I’m definitely trouble
    I can bleed this ink one time and make you see double
    I’m from the state they call Jerzy
    I came west to show the east coast some mercy
    but the time you spent
    …and the rhymes you sent
    ain’t gonna help yo ass pay the rent
    because your dome I bent
    when I refused to relent
    it’s to late for your to admit you grabbin the mic was an accident
    my ink bleeds like a laser
    to sting yo ass like a tazer
    ask Capt. Kirk to lend you a phaser
    because my bleeding slices thru yo bullshit like a barber’s straight razor

    March 5, 2012 at 9:05 pm

  12. So sorry to interrupt, this massacre stuff is not my steelo
    I just came to spit a couple verbs, ain’t here to play a hero
    WHAT! You called me a zero? What kcuf you talk’n about
    I’ll leave you bodied, laying in the streets mark’d up wit da chalk n yo mouth
    No nigga I ain’t crazy, it’s just my form of human relation
    Strip’n bones dry like I was damn locust infestation
    Focus on my manifestation, Pokemon, I choose you
    When I get up in ya face I’ma poke you mon, n watch yo guts bleed through
    Yeah I’m a psycho too, lyrically talented and don’t forget it
    I wager everything on yo life, so play with me if you really wanna bet it
    Do you really wanna sweat, fine, I’ll lay the line dare you to cross it
    And after I rip through flesh, I’ll need barb wire for my teeth, I got to floss it
    You about to get massacre, hey give me your wallet, toss it
    You ain’t gonna need it where you going, you thought you were the ish, but you just dog shit

    March 5, 2012 at 10:08 pm

  13. Poetic devastation is yo first and last clue
    of what the lyrical Clique will do to you
    I am the AFTERMATH when they get thru
    annihilation
    brought on by inked oration
    this taint no fuckin hobby, it’s my vocation
    shuda stayed yo punk ass on vacation
    now you’ve become the main character in the illustration
    of me inking yo ass into obliteration
    before you can even muster a feeble retaliation
    I bled you dead and left yo still body for observation
    in case another wannabee mc got the inclination
    to do anything more than a respectful salutation
    from yo rightful place at the club’s waitress station
    because you too can become a victim of this murderous inking Clique nation
    act stupid and think this is an invitation
    it’ll be like you swallowed broken glass
    when I hit you phonetically poetically and make you piss blood out your ass..

    March 5, 2012 at 10:50 pm

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