Deepspace 5 /


[sev statik]
well if i'm first i might as well make this verse something
you want t listen to, maybe give you a visual of light
illumination for dark times, i'm able just to walk with loneliness
mic sparking, clashing, so to be smashing out these deep flows
paying dues is often the cost
for a professional, i'm exceptional when
i send thoughts into soldier type fashion
march to a hidden part of the pen
splashing out onto the page, words drop in brigades
non-stop brain waves 24-7
shine or rain, i stay repping
to hold down this black ink, more effective than oppression
i'm letting out loud screams i'm hearing these ghost writers on the scene
invisible to the rest but i know who they possess
control your text before your mouth starts rhyming
sintax, listener, sev, we're joywriting.

we're going joywriting as we rhyme across the map
with our thoughts shining concepts right into your lap
when we write verbs to link words from ink blurs
it comes out fresh to impress on the paper.

i lay the groundwork, throw on about ten layers of intricacies
shrouded delicately through a buried sea
but doesn't matter when you really don't care or see
that i love it, seems like lunacy to chase it all so blindly
catching me so off guard i'm questioning how much you're
feeling me, i could scream like hostages about
how much the man keeps me down or
i could complain like the handicapped
about how my lyrics sound and how it's not accessible, but i won't
i should impress my rap-name on your mind like it's a leather belt
and i might try to make you feel guilty about how
i'm so underground and you're the commercialist
soil on top of me..well
i'll just lay the groundwork and stay content with my beats
mixed in concrete sheets with word repeats
phonetically bound by threads of concept pleats
recycled into thoughts unique.


my father's prize possession is a pilot ball point pen
he keeps it freshly polished and seldom is it written
but he left last week and so i took it for a spin
joywriting with my friends, swerving in and out the margin
pardon my pleasure because i'm reckless when i grin
i never look before i laugh because that's a waste of inhibition
cross double punchlines and keeping traffic on their toes
i've got em ducking into stitches as i'm steering down the road
offroad imagination goes wherever you suppose
compose in 4-wheel drive to survive the highs and lows
i'm a patouine jedi fully trained in the art
my heart metacholorean count is off the charts
trained with obe 1 kenobe in the early morning sun
spit sound surround like dolby when i breathe through speaker lungs
riding bareback on a banth across the sands of tantouine
using the force to chart my course holding the hands of elohim
who bends my will to win, pod racing on the outer rim
deepspacing as i'm chasing down ideas with my pen
lament for the loss and pray for peace so kids can cope
spit hope, love and joy with every flick of the scripter's pen stroke.