Freestyle Cypher

You can have fun with it. Writing or spitting, both are an exercise in power.
"What power?" one might ask (and Once might answer as he descends his ivory tower :laugh: ).
"Powers" like the mental faculties one is blessed with, which let us mind these matters
and which let us set up lines of rhyme, flexing any kind, for hours.
The grasp so dext'rous, could lay a flow and ride it out or, have my one of my senses sight the scouters
As I use the body as a vessel, flight commander with or without a mic, adjusting Volume slightly louder,
Then I spit metal projectile showers. We do it 'cause that life is ours...
All this biological gadgetry within reach of the brain's hands and overseen by the mind's eye;
It's a learned science, we exercise our strength, but what're we really trying to live life like?
What other powers can be exercised, what more can we do?
What other knobs can be potentially turned, for new doors we'd get through?
At the end of the day, my mental faculties made me more self aware...
probably. And here's why I'm doubting this knowledge in my head, and whatever else is there:
I'm not steaming, ears fuming, just ticked off when a beast like Celph declares
that I'm not gettin' it. Well it's implied not stated directly - but who the hell cares.
Our last posts, basically we both dropped synonyms. Different ways of saying the same sentences.
I just don't get why leaving would... I mean, a departure so far is not imminent
since I'm still here discussing my sentiments. Y'all can deposit facts and opinions in.
I'm just mad cuz it's a debate and it looks like I'm not "winnin' it."
I let 'em know, it's not about winning it tho,
There is no gold, just "truth", I'm winging it, but bringing it tho.
It's just that... it's a seed of knowledge in my brain that been in it's growth
A potential science, but if it's not correct - and in the end it'll show -
then it has to be uprooted, and another seed finna get sowed.
When you place too much confidence in it, ya know,
and it loses, your face gets that red embarrassment glow.
I got the nervousness sharing thoughts, but I'll go back to the drawing board
if I have to, and draw up more.
For now I still say hanging-up this craft... (on the fridge for mom&pop to adore)
when I've seen all that the craft can offer is really what the calling's for...
But truth: I've had too little fun in the past rapping.
Always internet shit and always trying to one-up the last act on some "becoming the class-act" thing.
Real life wasn't much but a sad backing, imagine this sad sack against a wall, hands grasping
Must've broken the fourth wall with my claws scratching,
I laughed, gasping at intervals, cuz I saw that it's all bad casting
Whether I meant movie roles or shadows from a light that falls crashing
doesn't matter, cuz I was left holding feelings of hatred
from a past - up and shattered - that I molded, whole new being created
It's gross, envious, and cold, but I'm told to deal with its placement...

Fun's the name of the game, but I know others have different intentions...
They wish to explore their depths in reach into their written ascensions,
n' who am I to judge? It's a playground, I don't throw shade...
They can do it their own way, and trust me, I will be OK.
It's not a matter of knowledge or simplicity, but the statements they don't say
And we got it out in the open now, like a cliff note to show the crowd.
We made it P.O.P, without some lesbian telling us to "Hold it down"
Whether you do it one way, and me the other?
This here's the moment bound.
Not for us to be tied in semantics.
The forum, like the live circuit is comprised of some antics...
But also develops a prevalent force of intricacies to find us some balance...
A freeform revolution lies in this chalice, its why it is challenged.
Doors everywhere, you can choose which one to walk in..
Knowing when that door's closed, you're still present a hundred options
But rest assured, you can stay within your skin.
Displaying your will. Live theatre. The actors portraying the film is what made it surreal.
I'm welcoming, yes, welcoming those hard discussions,
n' look at how an exchange of talents, ideas... formed... from out of its leisure
Even what's condemned stemmed this very conversation...
Which brings me back to my point, n' why we should all embrace it.
No conformity, simply harmonizing elements we're not a accustomed to...
Breaking that glass ceiling open. Here? We can touch the roof...
Discussing truth or simply disgusting moot reverence...
Intelligence, sentences... this pencil's prodigious...
When I think of this? It's a series of stories, n' it's predicaments...
Telling this freeform utility to expel my thoughts into increments...
And what I jot'll be infamous, or maybe not.
Maybe it's just crazy thought. But it's OK, cause that is the way it's brought.
No censorship. With this pencil's such a suspenseful grip...
I feel I'd suffer an anxiety attack if I hadn't mentioned it...
But so it goes, I read and I read the flow of ideas...
from so many readers it's like my dome has been thrown towards open receivers...
What's cold and facetious is the conventional method...
Someone sensible says it's what is the word, and our sensors are shredded...
We believe it, but I know we can sense the pandemic
contaminating duality as soon as it gets in our head, n'...
Long story short, pages will keep coming afterwards...
for the recon of rapping words, so keep on the vernacular...
This subjective, ambiguous beast it's missing its leash...
And we know you plan on taking this to interesting feats.
I commend it, I think it's stupendous!
Inking a sentence from a visual imagery to give us something we didn't see!
Years later, we got something the kids can read...
Our conversational dialog has manifested a living being!

...made of different things, different feelings. It all expands and splits the ceiling.
I know what else I could rap about, it's not that appealing.
I develop this rap in my hand, but admittedly I'll correct it and reset intermittently.
I know we have the same goal here, just a separate delivery.
Most of us are not jailbirds in the cell who sing.
The cage is open, we have wings, but we do our own thing.
I might give their raps a read and... see how they manipulate the words, and what ever else they bring.
When great beauty's displayed, I can't help but think.
I think. but can't yell or scream, it's a struggle to say what, can't even tell a shrink.
My flow of thoughts, all coagulated. A dry-spell of ink, a despised smell, it stinks.
Why, elohim? Because I felt compelled to blink once, so I fell from the brink?
No answer back... I look at my surroundings: there's physically nothing to mellow me.
I look into my self and see
that in my mind I've held a key,
whenever I grasped feelings not dealt with but which were dealt to me.
Some feelings were held-in selfishly; others held by an act of such cowardice... I can't believe such a fuckin' elf is ME.
Sometimes I see the same lameness in others, but why judge. Those shadows are really no one else but me.
Still I judge y'all overwhelmingly.
Even while I consider that I'm the one on the projector screen.
The 'judgment possessing me'...disrespectfully rejects these things, I've fled these scenes.
That strength to run away... to repress, to control outcomes. It can protect, it seems. (coward...)
That same strength I might use, excessively,
to see exactly what these people want - what grabs them electrically...
I thought I used the strength almost imperceptibly,
but I know use it like a necessity,
to know what people can offer...what's different from them and me.
I don't know what it's all about, maybe it's a symptom of jealousy?
I post words, wishing I could say the most with the least.
I don't care about being a beast, all's okay as long as I'm on nobody's leash.
This cypher's been a search engine - words entered 'n refined here, until I have or know what I seek.
I know there's a lot to say... but why do it in rhyme?
All claims to want income or improvement aside:
a sense of fitting in where you think you'll fit, is a prime mover of mind.
We saw the community-kind, and how it worked. Now take a look at how the human's inclined.
A need in every different relation: your closest people, your crew or the "tribe,"
and society as a whole. Where does one stand, among, in front, or behind?
A need to feel that you&yours can exercise power..or just submit to rule by the hive...
Some want to be abused! others are consumed by pride,
other shit could be said, but as usual I feel there's too little time.
Doors in the mind can be opened which influence dem lines.
I guess we're in the room where raps can be "challenging", or perfected with a fluid design.
Thoughts 'perfectly' expressed, core matters addressed, as the flow through it entwines.
When the door opens a new pathway, I'd say "Yeah man, go through it, it's fine."
but I wouldn't live with the lie. It's already happened in my past, man, I've tried.
I've wrung the past in my hands (or maybe switch around some of the nouns in that phrase). And damn, I've cried.
In any case, that's probly why I rap unsatisfied.
Trying so hard to find - what? Maybe redemption, but I can't describe.
Still the need is here to paint the story, with an old wound as fresh as the canvas dry.

And that is why... this platform is here for answers they can't deny...
It's a truth within a complexity that is standing high...
Let us follow the roots and explore the depths of its grand design...
Cause every line that's said is movement, pulling the hands of time...
If it's finding ones self you seek, then there's no shame to show pain...
Let it rest on the canvass, as words intercept thrown paint...
And type your little heart out, till it goes faint...
The whole slate of perception is diverse, n' is electrified when you're so quaint.
I do, sometimes, look disgustingly at the state that were in...
It was almost like I was promised I wouldn't take it again...
To some degree, I even hate to begin on the character traits
associated with a culture I now feel like I was raised to defend...
But then, it becomes quite clear.
That reflection looking back at me is past beliefs
Influencing my perception on what rap's should be...
Sometimes, I wish I could open my brain up, just so cats could see...
The modern dystopia created is a catastrophe
Reading articles from Hip Hop magazines that glorify
such a a tragic scene, a sewn in projection in which this madness seams...
To flow, but in hindsight, that contrast means
That there's no unison - the truest expression involved for pages this music's in...
The double edged sword, cutting.
Giving this board something new to get the forum's buzzing...
Even if it's more a discussion.
Simply explore. Go ahead and open the door that you're clutching.
Or close it n' study from out of it's outer corridors, before you can touch it.
Risks, negative or positive, is all it is.
Freedom of information, challenging the politics of the modern conglomerates
Who follow this, read n' discuss the model with novelists...
Arguing the logic missed, saying the loss was autonomous...
Writing, online, on a board, no less...
whether bored or stress, core distress from your inner war, expressed...
through dialog, uniformed to text...
objectives the key... to act as the projections our directions can see...
High beams on, light cascades the gravel through the rest of the street...
The reflection you seek through the currents, pressed in the sea, exposing the complexion, beneath...
Each text is a neat symbol for the directive
our perceptions often try to block, like an expletive bleep.
How can one compose a sentence, if no message is deep?
How can one be one dimensional, without pressing delete?
Such a lexicon of questions, for those expressing belief...
In a higher form of tonality as the tools for the job rest at their feet...
I look at the state, conclusions arise around the music comprised...
And the illusions surmised from the lewdness that tries alluding our eyes
When I view it, disguised renditions of the closed minded...
troll-guided souls citing their own science, got the entire globe biased.
Getting shifted from their agenda, a bunch of exposed privates...
Flooded with inhibition, so they're quick to go for the road highest...
Only to find out that the lane they've chosen to follow...
Has much more of an influence than the liquor they hold in their bottle...
Deep within... those boundaries, there's a layer lying beneath the skin.
And a welcome mat for that cowardice elf to greet him in...
But there's also closed doors, that are bolted shut...
Until that one "key" we've seen before comes and it opens up...
The mind is a subject one doesn't know enough,
Only observations of objectives we perceive to be so corrupt...
That it's like the cypher's just throwing "stuff"...
Nothing insightful, n' therefore meaningless.
A query for the proxy on, like "Why are you reading this?
You see, you need something that will be genius."
And I'm agreeing, it's about time we see such a being...
drawn to this scene, exists.
But even it's just a variation in the shades they acquire...
To contrast two different pieces which results in a combined taste of desire...
the collective of pieces, pressed in a sequence...
And read from the text to complete this... resonation of messages
like professional speeches...
We'll cast judgement, there's no stopping that,
but to have this dialog intact? is what has drawn as back.
From what I see on this wall, it's fact!
They say it's easy to learn, and impossible to master...
And I agree, every day is like an obstacle to plaster...
Every minute it's like its legs are walking a little faster...
Every person involved is stopping it from disaster...
But stopping what? This intricate thinking ship I will not give up...
I will be kicking rocks in the pond, until every frog destructs...
And the me today, might not be the me tomorrow...
My feelings may differ and then? There will be an entirely new ink to this pen...
But I assure you, the man writing this will be thinking of him...
From a future apprehension, n' may even link him, again.
They think it's the end. I say it's a hiccup, indeed.
There will be a few bumps, but wait until it picks up the speed...
Many walks of life, it makes no difference to me.
As long as the end result? Is that you've given a key.... for him to be free.

theres a lot of things i'd like to say....
but my brain is more fried than an egg in a microwave,
and I cant get it together,
ive weathered so many storms my skin thickened to leather,
maybe its for the better or maybe im just a fool,
I love to fight my wife then be treated like a tool,
the duality in the duel, insanity is the fuel...
the fire is the reason I keep believing and hoping,
smoking more dope just to help anxiety coping,
stress levels are raising the boiling point is rising,
now whenever shit happens its never surprising,
I only expect the best and look for the good in things,
always work my hardest, look at the good it brings,
endure the worst shit and swallow it like a toilet,
I get dumped on in every aspect of my life, and I enjoy it,
I love to fight for my life and then be treated like a tool,
the duality of the duel, insanity is the fuel,

insanity is his fuel...some realities shit us jewels.
in other realities you had to be ridiculed
just to battle a bitch's rule, and life gradually gets as cruel...
don't let your fire cool...to me, humanity is a school.
Alright, alright. That was just my continuation, but now I'll let business proceed.
To CT, your previous post was given a read.
I wrote up thoughts, not too relevant. But first I'll hit you with these,
as I turn three 60 degrees,
that's 180, from the fetal position I was in with wrists to the knees,
to the scene of him risen, he's giving his victory speech.
But a sequel was written.
Decisions, decisions, relivin' his history, each bar repeating intimately
Until the glimpse of memories rewinds it all... we see him back in his cousin's car, he's seated list'ning to beats.
Scars receding into him, his young heart is beating vigorously;
he starts to feel an instance of peace, it lifts him from sleep.
Breathe in real deep..."I can't believe it...it's me".
It's hard believing it was a dream! or a wandering thought taken so far - really it couldn't be!
I'm back to some time before I was fifteen, I can stop future mistakes from slippin' my feet.
And what we see me do next is a mystery, C.
Because I'm not gonna finish that. At least not lyrically.
I can't leave the past behind.
After-all, I cross paths with mine.
I need to walk with my past in mind...
That's not saying I need to remember it all day, that sounds asinine.
I mean, mentally I need to make peace with me and walk with me, hands entwined.
Yeah it's metaphorical, and our whole thread's ignorable,
Cuz it's traditional rap: no tone in the vocals to better express the story thru,
nor a tune to morph the mood,
whether it's a prerecorded beat or produced.
But if the post can be read, and its meaning derived, then the text is quotable...
and Celph, your respect is notable.
I don't mind reading sick verses or certain rhymes to laugh about.
It's just, in these times, these are the lines that I'm castin' out.
No record deal - no biggie.
Some might want this dispersed in a CD, but personally I don't, feel me?
Others' raps got a Biggie Small theme? Not a big deal to me really.
Y'all say what you want, you live under your own ceiling.
It's all cool what you rap, you have your own reasons to talk it.
Ultimately, what I dropped was for my knowledge... and Celph was nice enough to handle the topic.
On my own, I've lit my proverbial candle then dropped it.
My optics
have registered monsters that dance in the darkness,
as well as the people who dance along as-if-that-option was an impassable object.
I say it's a preventable fate, so I took a chance here to stop it, fate shouldn't be catastrophic.
My fate...so far... is me acting like there's nothing that I can't accomplish.
And stretching this whole matter out.
There's things I get mad about, and that's one. The next is cat and mouse.
See, I've had my doubts. May have left hard-feelings when I took my battle route.
Another one is all the good things I could've said. But with that I'm out.

I think I'm done here C. 'Cause a lot can be said. A lot can be learned.
Why write it in rhymes? Or even look for it there?
Thanks for offering your perspective. New thoughts showed up that way.

Spoiler:

Whatever else I could have rhymed about, Celph: read my About Me. I'm off.

front if you want, but the truth is hard to evade forever
life is actually simple, face it, knowledge is a sacred treasure,
fate is a scapegoat for those unable to make their own-
actions are the result of when grown men take their throne,
street poets are everywhere, philosophers are a dime a dozen,
understanding is overrated when all of the rhymes are nothing,
in essence the meaning is lost in sublime methods,
undefined ethics in an unrefined message,
your underlying presence is an undermined vestige-
like underlined crevice that is under my testes,

When I thumb through these text keys, I wonder:
"There must be hundreds of netcees", all over the world, who come to express frees...
Let's take it back to 2002, I stumbled across a hiphop
site called "Fuckyouicecube" - out of the blue
...started browsing it through...
An "ezboard", which doesn't exist anymore...
But I can still picture the board, cause at this moment?
I've never did a "written" before...
I sit n' explore this cornucopia for a bout' a minute, then pour
My own expressions onto the page, n' watch it submit to the forum.
I can't even tell you how electrifying it was...
It's like they supplied me with drugs, I felt it's feeling, but my mind didn't budge...
I was so excited to signify these lines wit' a touch
Like Di Vinci must have experienced inside when provided a brush...
But fast forward a bit to when boards were a hit...
Jin's stamp on the battle community was the momentum needed to make forums legit...
This wave ushered in HollaFront, n' the formula sticked.
2004 was a plethora of forums to exploit cash tournaments with
You had your long style netcees...
n' short bar artists...
And everything in between wasn't really interesting
So, imagine how underdeveloped the cyphering part of it was...
It was aspect of the forums a lot of artists won't touch
This embodied a representation of the 90's era...which is past
but briefly remembered, by Tupac & Biggie, to piece it together...
The contrast of styles, n' walks of life, varied
the thoughts they write was like a social experiment showing we're not alike
But in the same breath, more alike than we can ever dream to be
Observations of life, by simply reading keys.
I'd often build off of excerpts of their verses to show them it's heeded...
An easy of way telling them, through inspiration, I'm reading these...
And yes I'm rambling, but I definitely know what's it's like to see
the environment change to a more maniacal range
To what you're standing in. Variations much different from what your plans have been.
It's almost like culture shock, n' they expect you to handle it.
You reading from 04 to 14 is like two separate manuscripts...
Where no clear objective was made, So what do they expect you to say?
We've come to an era now, in life, where intellect isn't praised...
Unless you can say what you want to convey in more exceptional way.
No, in a more acceptable way.
Hard to speak to these kids with deception at play...
Constantly reconstructing the message displayed...
With the new influx of information, comes the dialog burdened to carry it...
Somewhere along those lines came a variance
And for lyricists, our lexicon grows with the new generation, which
Follows it, heavy-handedly, much like a medicated bliss...
Who's dedicated? What's knowledge to such an abstract model?
Enough horse power in rap to crack that throttle'
Whether the formulaic approach, or the backpack motto
There's so many facets to grasp in the bottle, before you can capture that lotto!
But interest fades, and the body of work remains
The verse displayed is personified as that persons ways
All and all, I've learned to accept these words are passing statements
meant to mapping greatness, wish one should practice, basically...
No point in debating thee' outcome knowing there's changed belief...
between vastly separate spaces, comes complacency...
And no cultural norms, the forms we tend to exchange, are free.


Goodluck, bro! Hopefully you come back!

What for, I run rap.. fun fact, real life strife gotta nigga contemplating a gunclap
Because of a knife that was placed in my back
Sacrifice the lamb
In time you'll all understand.. Right now I'm undermanned
Got plans to expand but find the land is nefarious, talking to shadows like "Oh thats how you wanna carry it"
Out the shadows comes a lariat, I duck it, grab an arm into an irish windmill
Lift my steel, squeezed the trigger with thee intent to kill
No rights were read, I'm not the feds, Just a Ill nigga who Finesses some bread
Got stick-up kids & police on the lookout, not sure why they wanna intervine
Wish I was paranoid, that would explain the shit I've seen
Now there's a void in a place that used to be serene
Was it all a dream? I did as a kid read Word-Up magazine
My brother seen the same shit too, so I wasn't imagining
Which is maddening, such a bad thing should never happen
What's happening? Another brother of no relation was hatin'
Fell to temptation, now I gotta turn my back on em', got me feelin vacant...

vacant is whatever your point was, maybe nice
but more vague then Bruce Jenner's way of life
take ya knife, I'm sorry u feel so betrayed man
I wish I could take back the blows, let's embrace and...
Already gone, done, hacked and I know ya pitiful
Cause how else could a sister wind up dead, Mystikal
You a Queen's maid, only mission is for admission
Of guilt like a lawyers regular commission, huh?

holy shit yall dedicated! freestyling essays and shit

I keep it short and simple, like my sex life-
just playing,kinda, but lets not ask my ex-wife/

my chicks like "what chu buying me? for real tho"
Saving money fo sea world, see some seals blow
see i feel as though, im a tree that grows
eventually ill hit the sun, as far as eons go/

Slow like molasses, fat brown guy in Oakley Glasses
bored as fuck at work, co-worker smells - mostly gas's
introvert with a tight waist line, boost mobile, no face time
Kools and laced nikes, brains so slow a sloth can pace mine

erno

As the officer tells me to walk a straight line, one foot directly in front of the other
Another cops presses out this shorty wop, she stutters
But I'm COOL when it comes to such, con-ditions cuz
Ever-y-day, thats the mission
Feds move in position, quick to draw their pistons
In minority districts, shit, its the tradition
Courtrooms get filled, they'll let you leave holding the bill
Its hard to believe this goes on still, how do we stop it?
Its all for profit, this topic, can get you shot quick
The money generated funds the metropolis, so watch it
Before they squash it, I'm sure you think what I'm saying is nonsense
Now drop the beat on em, hope you can follow it...


I fight the feelin, I'm feelin a pringle
To the corner store I mingle, spend a few singles
Dutch or Game, Palma or Red
To me they rollz together like Dharma and Greg
One I share with the homies, the other I spark to the head
Can't really do things in my own house, so I ride out, sometimes to places I don't even know about
I'll try out
For me its all about the scenery, with the greenery intermengling
So dope, change in the your pockets jingling
Music ringing in, Radio, CD or Spotify
This the way I ride til the day that I die
Riiiight?

i got one foot in the door and one in the grave,
in one life im a boss in the other a slave-
ive been buggin, got a mean mug on the face
mix black hornet and drugs i'll be buzzin for days,

scud missile spray right through these thug niggas.
slayin .. shit gets ugly without any muscular strain
war thumpin; the pain pores like rain storming terrain
face forming decay. sword swarm hoards of monster, ghoulies, goblins and saints
this is not a display of alpha restraint
negro, we going all out, simply dealing bouts of butane
scorch the mouth since yall always talkin bout shootin flame
wish list sustain. sickest. insane. bitches get brain
think this some empty threat, kid? call ur click, nigga, let's play!
here's a game of charade. like who can stop my team?
flow got niggas reacting like cyclops beam
its that eye drop scheme. when i drop schemes, hip hop breathes
ur faces looking like it got hit by tong po's knee
you gong show reject, i do i detect a one hoe team?

from the top no I am not dropping the pre written
freestyles got the cypher locked into submission
like arm bars- that snap bones in Ju Jit-Su
so fast u still figuring out who just hit you
spin kicks, back hand fists and jump knee you
call ur girl from the hospital to come see you