Wednesday, November 9, 2011

"My Pen & Pad" by Blackalicious


Here we go [6x]

Back on the journey again, tool is a pad and a pen
Cool as the fan, as the wind soothing you after I send
True inner-vision risen and driven while givin you my
Isms of intuition while niggas is livin a lie
Syllables spill and I fly, high as a pinnacle rhyme
Not to belittle a fool, but try to get into you, my 
Lyrics inherited form awareness somewhere in the sky
Clearly, you'll give them merit and cherish 'em better with time
There is none ever and on like rivers so clever I shine
Verbal ambassador travel in this endeavor of mine
Never a antigangster, the ghetto is still on the mind
If I was not rappin, a nigga might be up inside
All of your terraces, stealin wallets and necklaces, I
Give hella gratefulness for the blessing to share this and fly
Everywhere people outside the culture now try to divine
What it is, but it is mine, such it is, love with blind-
Vision but no division is vivid, we livin inside
Vicious vindictive and mental prisons from within the mind
Sits and I find stillness, from minutes is written the rhyme
Gettin you smitten with it, particularly if you're a prime
Listener, listen up, twist it up like the lyrics was lime
Vintage is instant, so give it up when you hear it reci-ted
At attention, relieving tension and bending yo' spine
Sendin you signals to get yo' internal system aligned
Lyrical pinnacle situation is critical
Syllable after syllable, give it to you, deliver you my 
Intervals, sendin you through dimensions you didn't know
Hidden in you, within you, when you get into the begin to intuit
Sentiments, internets, couldn't send you yet signals you get
Ripping through skin and through tissue, fix you elixirs that might
Lift your peripheral vision, the mystical wisdom that tends
To go into the infinite system of livin and this is the ending
As well as the beginning of the Gift in his prime
Mission the bliss is divine, christen it, isn't it fine?
Listen and dissin it, that's the incident innocent
Men and women hit lyrics is killin niggas, they shiverin
The predicament's thick, and it splits the wig of the ignorant lyricist
Puttin fear in their spirit—Yo, that's my time!...

Source of the text - The Anthology of Rap, edited by Adam Bradley and Andrew DuBois. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010, pp. 584-585.

Bourguignomicon: High-road ode. The poet spills many syllables in unusually dense assonance to rap about spilling syllables in unusually dense assonance.

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