In camera, image, rap, rhymes on October 23, 2009 by Hugo
its as clear as day, gramps gone away
gramps with the hearing aid and the clear tube when he urinate
he didnt remember shit but he knew my face
the last time I saw him I was twenty eight
he was ninety-eight, now I’m twenty nine
and he was ninety-nine when he had to die
a few years shy of a hundred and five
i figured if anybody coulda made it under the sky
it woulda been him with the lunch that he buy
‘eat healthy u get to live till a hundred and five’
Yeah, he said that while I was munching this fry
and while I had fruit punch on the side
Okay I get it
when you’re born you just die
But the time to get there is fly, or just fly, so hop along for the ride
im cruisin, scoot over on to the side,
i do my thing in the sky, but we all stars, yeah all of us die
this rap shit is what I muster inside
and its deep, so I wonder what keep all of you busters alive
gramps was a hustla and all hustlers thrive
so lets celebrate the spirit of a hustla tonite
let me bust out a rhyme, let me cuss out the mic
rest in peace, let me bust out the pipe
In rap, rhymes on October 8, 2009 by Hugo
i dont drink wine but i smoke purple haze
blueberry chocolate blunts is like my birthday cake
so light it up!
like we burn the stake
u want beef muthafucka, I could serve ya steak
yeah?
im high muthafucka, I conserve this state
like its my normal state, i never pause or break
im on top muthafucka like a young nas or jay
and i love this shit becuz im high all day
yay
I get twisted light the la and pray
and im black muthafucka, im not white or grey
yeah
i walk the path straight but the path is frayed
and I do it for the cash so from the path I strayed
but since I do it for the cash look how much cash I made
so excuse me if my cash just fucking crashed your day
yeah
Mister Potato Head could mash your face
And hit u in the spot right where you stash your eights
ooowww
If u not scared then why’d your crap your BAPES
I always found the color brown is fuckin wack and gay
yeah, always reminds me of fucking crack and shake
I let the streets take care of that then i sit back and wait
Uh huh, paper is what you lack, and faith
But the faith wont come until your act is straight
And your act is straight when you stop actin fake
But you could still get an Oscar in this time and day
yyyeeeeah, I spit this everytime becuz the rhyme is straight
I just freestyle in my head then I rewind the tape
So when I spit it to you live can you transcribe the take?
I let the inner city guide my dire times and straits
and I can hustle any guy that think that crime dont pay
I dont do this 9 to 5, i do this 9 to 8
so you can find me in the streets where I just lie awake
the meaning of ‘forever’ I design and shape
im on my grind all the time till I recline and break……
In rap, rhymes on October 7, 2009 by Hugo
yo im all dried up
i need a drink and a wine cup
i feel high, drunk, yeah, its fine skunk
yo im sayin who should inherit my nike dunks?
my vest here, my fresh gear
yeah my Polo with the crest here
I always had style, no Guess here
And 3rd base’s always been my quest dear
Can you read what it says here?
I pitch, I bat, bitch, I’m rich, I’m fat
Im not Rick Ross but I’m rich like that
I got big bawls and they itch in fact
my female DJ is gonna reach and scratch
Yeah muthafucka, I teach you that
This game is like a fucking diva batch
What you know about Adidas hats?
adidas shoes b. , Im on my p’s and q’s
Ok your gear is fly, but your fuckin jeans is used
You bought this shit in 92 with sum Fila shoes
what you know ’bout homies gettin buried in Fila suits?
That’s a hustla thing, bitch eat a soup
Some muthafuckin hustlas dont need to prove
But you large muthafuckas still need a stool
You snitch muthafuckas still be a stool
Thats the ways of the hood and will be as rule…
In books, camera, diary, image, rap, rhymes on July 18, 2009 by Hugo
He sat up and started rapping this rhyme:
I’m blooooood…energized from Beddastuy/
drawling out every syllable rhythimically making everything rhyme as if it couldnt…but in the mouths of such artists words are like smaller utterances of musical notes…
As a young Buc school is sumtin’ I set aside/
he was visibly shaken but gradually the momentum was building up and you could see it overtake his body, his chest completely out, his head up, his hand low on his paintswaist, his red fitted baseball cap backwards, and the energized spirit in his bloodshot eyes.
I’m bloood…in the sky!…and its fly!/
He looked up above as if talking to the Lord…
Shoot a bullet in his thigh and spray his side/
Soo Woo is revolution but Soo Woo is not televised
Soo Woo is from the streets of the Beddastuy…..
In rap, rhymes on February 14, 2009 by Hugo Tagged: rhymes
Ok I pimpo now/ I been poor but now I pimpo style/ I pimp so wild/ Ladies: Nympho style/ I been pimpin’ and still pimpin’, I ain’t pimped out/ Look at the garage there with the Bentleys out/ I got a disco indoors that’s Limboed out/ Don’t say shit muthafucka, ‘fo I hit your mouth/ You thirsty doods here gon’ feel The Drought
rappers nowadays aint wanna talk bout bars/so lets talk bout cars/i let the chrome Vey do the talking/that shit twinkle like stars/plus i got them big wheels too/that shit could drive around on mars/fuck it all my cars is SICK/my whole garage got SARS
i got a yacht you can land your rented heli on/plasma big/shaq look 10 feet tall/when i turn the telly on
