deepundergroundpoetry.com

Dragonflies (sans second verse)

 
Scrape me up a fist, we can tussle and fight
I be a hungry lyricist seeking my supper tonight
I'll play as rough as you like; you got the muscle to write? -
cuz I ain't ever seen you move like schoolbuses at night
but you got that yellow back, crawling sluggish in the right lane
with hella lag, flappin feathers fit to bring your flight weight
Watch these wings; to achieve height you need technique:
fill beak with worms instead of words; bring fresh tweet next week.
Liftin lids on kettles full of steam, I set that pressure free
Got that flow to cure your cut like the Dead Sea -  
rub it just enough to sting, evaluate your bloodstream,  
and get the rest of these spectators desperate for my recipe.
Test me (aced.) I'm not precious with my pace;
don't weave it delicate - lace stay confined to chestpiece and the skates beneath
my fucking lovely frame... you could watch the waistline;
I'd think it wiser to eye the one my hook gon' drag you by.
 
Like wet dragonflies your wings drip
Nothing is coming from fluttering, must be the wings ripped
Imma give noonhigh the loop-de-loops that it deserves;
get to binging sunshine or begin to learn the dirt.
MCs still like wet dragonflies: their wings drip
Nothing is coming from fluttering, must be those wings ripped  
and imma gift noonhigh the loop-de-loops that it deserves.
Either get to binging sunshine or begin to learn the dirt.
Written by rowantree
Published
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