BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
Prism
- Brain fried, cyanide like
- Spike on the psyche, sike see,
- I'm on a timed chime, every time a clock hits nine
- My 2 cents dropped, 54 at 9AM,
- In a year maybe I'll be makin more than 12 dime a day,
- Brain away on a one way,
- Not even aware what I've made
- Just aware of what I take.
- (In this prism, pissin old boy wisdom
- Wishin I wasn't stuck in my own prison
- Thoughts go steady on a piston
- Pistol whipped the trigger glisten so distant)
- Wear the skin of a snake, oaken stake
- Snare grasp in a lake
- Gasp for air, but I expect no aid
- Verse with my mind as the chorus fade.. (Peep the tape)
- Offspring ponder on the broccoli,
- Oddly feeling obsolete broken ancient prophecy
- Alien in my pod, you see, seeing faith not work for parents audibly
- Feeling like "obviously", mind on a spazz feeling like omni being
- Feeling like Ulysses in the Odyssey, oddity within poverty
- I'm odd you see, moved my piece of a monopoly but in jail for cult like monarchy
- Markers marking my mark of a ark, checker board probably
- Bomb on bingo proximity, game of 'Mine' clicked a bomb and made deadly symmetry
- Playing strings like listen to the beautiful symphony,
- Godly orchestra watch them sin for me, simply with synergy
- Yellow with empathy, Simpson screen seen glaring off the television livestream
- Scene gleam hi def light beam, beaming on a humanoid breed
- Off a live feed like the carrots eaten with broccoli live,
- Archives awfully scattered on a tide
- Mind on Tide, deterrent determined from the detergent,
- I'm digging and digging like a surgeon
- Line after line but can't find the true unbirthing
- Rhyme after rhyme thoughts still scattered unearthly
- Time beats time, don't matter how wordy I make the raps
- Shit still scattered all over the maps
- And some shit don't belong on it's own, wonder how long it may last
- Victim of the Silence Of The Lambs,
- Palms shaking like laps ran, soaking damp
- Lamp dark illuminating a lack of land inside the man
- Sold my soul to the devil, triple six, sixes 1 sixes, damned!
- Everywhere like the cramp, forehead open further to reveal a blown amp
- Galaxy map, fallacy mapped of a mishap
- Missed nap, walls closing in, bugs roaming an
- The doors opening, dope fiend of a soaked king
- The fur drip while he proclaim on the podium
- Membrane on a full set up rotary
- Earthquake analytics wroten on a gory sheet of inquiry
- Questions go through and out like rusted machinery.. What you don't know, what's hurting me
- Brain fried, cyanide like
- Spike on the psyche, sike see,
- I'm on a timed chime, every time a clock hits nine
- My 2 cents dropped, 54 at 9AM,
- In a year maybe I'll be makin more than 12 dime a day,
- Brain away on a one way,
- Not even aware what I've made
- Just aware of what I take.
- (In this prism, pissin old boy wisdom
- Wishin I wasn't stuck in my own prison
- Thoughts go steady on a piston
- Pistol whipped the trigger glisten so distant)
- Wear the skin of a snake, oaken stake
- Snare grasp in a lake
- Gasp for air, but I expect no aid
- Verse with my mind as the chorus fade.. (Peep the tape)
- Creases showing as knowledge, tied down with a switch, date rape
- In my own jail trying to find escape.
- Rhyming the truth yet I still feel fake
- Taking claim, I don't give a fuck about your rate
- Feeling like betrayed.
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A blueprint is like a report card for your lyrics. It contains a lyrical breakdown and analysis of all the words, syllables, and rhymes in your song.
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