Misrelating Tale
Gotta prepare for war, like I’m Daniel-son.
Train every day with that wax-off, wax on.
Mister Miyagi flow, that hits like a Jeff Hardy Swanton Bomb.
What has the world become?
We unleashed the sword,
So, what was done can’t be undone.
But what if this narrative could be un -spun ?
Would we right wrongs?
If we rebuilt foundations,
Would our nation remain strong?
To return a triumphant king like Aragon,
Or be stabbed in the gut like qui-gon?
But as def squad says we’ll continue on till the break of dawn.
For this is the way of the mandolorian.
Some days one gotta switch sides,
From the autobots to deceptocons.
Fighting foodons, blasting brains like I’m jimmy neutron.
A Lightning nuisance, that’ll static shock the electrons.
That may interrupt ones...
Constant flow of info from dendrites to axons.
After the battle is won, grab some schezwan.
Project soul of foul human individual cretans.
Not everyone can be as polite, as the bear named Paddington.
Gotta call the ghostbusters to extract some Thetans.
Rest In Peace to Egon.
So...
When **** hit the fan, gotta know how to swim in the deep end.
Treating each failure like it was a lesson.
Everyday I battle against anxiety and depression.
Let’s just say I know what’s it’s like to feel less than.
Got my heart crushed like some croutons.
And have had to attack on my inner Titans.
And just when you think I’m defeated,
I go super saiyan.
Schooling it like I’m Piccolo and it’s Gohan.
Let’s go son!
I Will never lose my head like a dullahan.
For I ain’t got not time for 99 problems.
Gotta open the third eye to see past illusions.
Got to change the qualities of the composition.
Keeping stressors relatively small no matter the opposition.
Gotta emphasize the light like you painting an impression.
On everything and everyone that may come along.
A perspective can turn curses to blessings.
Can take one’s trauma and use it as a weapon.
To change the cycle of ones disposition.
But that being said,
One can’t predict everything like the Simpsons.
For the world’s more controversial,
Than the ending of the Jefferson’s.

When good faces evil,
You get one intense battle,
Eyelids trace intents of cattle,
Placing weighted content that’ll,
Shift resilience towards the peaceful or deceitful.
It all depends on the type of people,
That contends genetic designs of primal,
Adrenal glands that defend against the lethal.
That could stem back when our moms had labour.
And whether or not they harboured,
Alcohol, drugs or other stressful factors.
That can affects the hand one has like a game of poker.
That can become dreadful detractors,
For children once they grow older.

As one wanders closer,
One has to wonder,
What fatal gates await,
Will they reach Aslan’s place,
Or end up in motel Bates?

Who decides good and evil?
A gang in the hood is stable,
Until police are dispersed from the snitching of a weasel.
A burst of betrayal that leaves brothers in jail.
Got the weasel on the run, alliances have sailed.
Trying to find ways to cut off their rat tails.
Getting a witness protection detail.
So, I ask you is that good or evil?
I guess it depends on perspective.
Is it wrong to survive by being deceptive?
Doesn’t everyone have a selfish incentive?
That drives them towards their objectives?
Or is nature or nurture that determines genetics?
What if you committed a crime,
Because of being neglected.
Products of environment,
With freedoms unprotected.
Is it their fault or societies fault?
I guess it depends on your perspective.
So...

As one wanders closer,
One has to wonder,
What fatal gates await,
Will they reach Aslan’s place,
Or end up in motel Bates?

As each lunar cycle turns,
And the full moon appears,
An ingrained fear draws near,
For the moon affects the waves,
And humans are made of 60% water.
So, it stands to reason that it affects how we behave.
Piercing hands of demons creates wolfish knaves.
A slave to a phenomenon that leaves some depraved.
Time to get some meditation son.
In order to be saved,
From that primal nature, that turns us into simpletons.
Got to maintain some discipline,
In our own personal synagogues,
Or just exercise to attain some serotonin,
Got to rise up to the occasion like a totem,
Creating shenanigans like Pippin.
Got to enjoy each moment,
The skies like a membrane component,
With wind flowing like verses from a poet.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.

As the lunar cycle turns,
The nocturnal beast yearns,
A carnal desire that starts to stir,
So, ya best be ready for some super *****.
For I’m in a mood like a typhoon,
Imma bout to consume,
You in the bedroom,
Don’t need no costume,
Give ya a gorilla press slam,
Like I’m Gorilla Monsoon.
Cause I ain’t no boon,
I’m dripping in doubloons,
Ready to explore her tomb.
That why my girls so good,
At shining my harpoon.
Got me wanting to finish her,
Call me Ed Boon.
Blame it on the moon.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.

This is the Moon mood,
That fools won’t tell you,
Got to find the tools.
To discover what is true.
Like you Blues clues.

As soon as I talk about ***,
They slap a label of explicitly,
Yet *** is a natural beauty,
That has been distorted as raunchy,
A taboo subject that is nasty,
Yet has created you and me.
So, sorry not sorry.
Imma discuss about it G.
So, check it.
My girl wetter than a tsunami,
Wanting my pastrami,
Which works for me,
Because I’m hungry for her cookie,
So, ***** where *** and food,
Becomes a imbued deli.
Carnal creatures popping off their cherries.
******* on my jerky like it was bubble tea.
As I’m munching on her nectarine.
A embrace more savoury,
Than a crispy cream.
Taking it to the shower,
Because I like it when her buns are steamed.
I treat my girl like a Queen,
She is more than her body.
I know saying this, isn’t mainstream.
But it’s important to dig in to it,
Like it’s a bowl of vermicelli.
My girls compassion is sweeter than ice cream.
And her laugh bounces like jelly.
She is a powerful force that some men might find scary.
But I personally find it ****,
Because she completes me.
Where I lack she helps me.
When I cry she comforts me.
The only one who understands the real me.
She imbues the deli of my soul,
And keeps me grounded like gravity.

Peace to sensei,
Coming to you live through airwaves,
As I wack off to ******,
Going on my own personal crusade,
Breaking walls like a man made out of Kool-Aid,
Like Muhammad Ali my flow is like a butterfly,
A war torn zealot that delivers like a pizza guy,
That thinks of your girl while he cream-pies.
Hahaha
Going in like it’s D-Day,
Call it a Gink Raid,
Hit em with a AK,
Shoot em down easier than slippy,
Slice a ****** up like it’s child’s play,
Call me a real killer like Chucky,
Hear the sirens Blair,
Oh **** gotta find a getaway.
Faster than a red hot chilli pepper,
To the cops displeasure.
Going underground like I’m master splinter,
Relaxing, steaming hams like Skinner,
Until I come up with a new plan,
That is truly evil like Mr.Sinister.
That would make a metal man,
Like Victor Vaughn approve of her.

This is a Gink Raid,
Carpe Diem,
Seize the Day,
Where human nature is displayed.

This is a Gink Raid,
A death parade,
A unpinned grenade,
Where human nature is displayed.

Times ticking closer to Doomsday.
Everyone always acts tough till it’s judgement day.
Crimes picking up, got things going sideways.
Rick Grime surviving bundles of zombies.
Simon says we better run away.
Shame gambling doesn’t pay.
Never know what lies in bouquets.
Semi-automatic bullets dance like ballets.
Piercing through flesh of desired prey.
That fall gently like flowers on summers day.
Death, an embrace none can escape.
No time for breath, when faced with fate.
Can’t hit the breaks.  
When rates have high stakes.
It’s war time, where peace comes from hate.
That takes lives for humanities sake.
A foolish pride, that existed since we were primates.
A sacrifice of blood, for a slice of cake.
That hooked crooks like bait.
Adversity is something we create.
Internally; suffocating us like restraints.
That keeps us in a sheepish state.
That innately generates,
A division of race that isolates,
A segregation which discriminates,
That dictates which traits.
Are more dominantly quaint.
That got us repeating history that betrays.
For...

This is a Gink Raid,
Carpe Diem,
Seize the Day,
Where human nature is displayed.

This is a Gink Raid,
A death parade,
A unpinned grenade,
Where human nature is displayed.

These are the laws of the wild,
A corporate claw that defiles,
Heavens sacred isle,
Cursed to a birth,
Assigned soul sent to earth,
Where it’s all matter of survival.
And once we die, we’re returned to dirt.
But while some sulk in denial,
Others get to work.
Building foundations to gain perks.
Evolving to a state that reasserts.
A need to control other folks.
Into hierarchical jokes,
That turns hopes to a hoax.
Where freedoms are revoked.
And it would take different strokes,
To not just evoke but promote,
Voices that used to be chocked.(18)

To become a master,
Of your inner monster,
Fighting to not be censored,
And not being ****** as a cancer.
Needing to know when to strike the hammer.
For untamed anger,
Leads to disaster.
That tampers one’s honour.
Instead of fostering composure,
Your creating battlefields for soldiers.
To become a master,
One must use love to conquer,
I know it may seem bonkers,
But to prosper,
One must alter,
The very fibres,
Of society that cause people to suffer.
To be a master,
You must recognize you are stronger,
Than your oppressor,
Got to weather the storm,
Don’t conform to the pressure.
Beware of what appears to be nectar.
For it can actually be a poisoned fuelled sceptre.
Never let yourself believe that you’re lesser,
If you do you might as dress up like a jester,
That mocks the very sacrifices of ones ancestors.
And always remember,
What it takes to be a master.

Rap game is a glass ceiling,
Shucky ducky quack quack,
Lame ***** reeling,
Over oldies and throwbacks.
Imitating vaudevillians,
Because originality has flattened,
Such simpletons,
More useless than pions,
Lacking the accuracy,
Of a destructo-disc thrown by Krillin.
Tacky ducks more quack than Daffy.
Quirky queens more dunce than Daphne.
The mystery is in the ink that separates,
The Shaggy’s from the prodigies.
Could stab a friend in the back,
For snacks like ******.
Not much of a strategy.
It’s like your trying to intentionally,
Upset a Wookie.
Maybe your just tone deaf,
Like Eminem referencing the dougie,
Or make dad jokes more horrific than Chucky.
Get it?
Because chucky is a horror movie?
Why aren’t you laughing?

Rap game is a glass ceiling,
Shucky ducky quack quack,
Lame ***** reeling,
Over oldies and throwbacks.
Ll cool j don’t call it a comeback,
Slavery of the masses,
Taking Prozac,
To combat malpractice,
Depression a felon inside and outside,
Laws becoming lawless and unbalanced,
Innocents committing suicide,
Because the powerful are careless,
These ******* should be embarrassed,
That their privileged ***,
Can fake smiles enough to win Emmy’s
Minds material madness.
Gotta mind your true enemy.
Instead of being consumed by fadness.
Losing ones humanity,
To become the next Ken or Barbie.
But you too bad and boujee,
A hollow shell stuck in comatose,
Consumed by the sea,
Set up to fall like dominos,
Thinking you free,
But can’t see,
As the crows grow,
Bundled in circles,
As your drowning,
In asbestos,
For every pro there are cons that lurk in the shadows.