Dead Poets Society - Cypher

Thola Miss-undastood Mgwaba

I SEE DEAD WRAPPERS COVERIN WASTED MATTER.

IF I KNOWN BETTER I.D SAY TIS MY QUEUE TO BLOW THEIR COVER.

BASICALLY LAB SCIENTISTS FAILED TO DISCOVER MY ORIGIN.

I HAIL FROM THE FUTURE AND THE PAST.

IN THE PRESENT I REPRESENT OBITUARIES OF FALLEN SCRIPTS.

I.M HIP HOPS ANGEL OF DEATH.

I BRING BACK WATS LOST WIT JUST A LIL MELODIC BREATH.

I SEE DEAD RAPPERS LYING BESIDE MY GRAVE.

MY DIGGER DAVE GRANTED MY WISH TO BE UR GHOST WRITER. BOO!!! I JUST HAUNTED YOUR NIGHTMARES. STOP AND STARE AS I INVADE THS CYPHER WIT MY DREAM TEAM.



Kabelo Killa-Bee Letele

Delighted to see a lady first/

Recitin a crazy verse/

While dead rappers in a Mercedes hearse/

Kidnap the corpse to cremate the shit/

Resurrect and recreate your script/

Niggaz is fake and shit, like deejays with disc/

You wouldn't spit if you bitten my shit/

My circumcised foreskin ghost written for dicks/

Do the math, division when I'm splittin the clit/

K.I.L.L.A.



Sibusiso Sbudap

I c dead rappers! Cats who alwys step on stage/

wit a dead delivery lyk miscarage/

im tokng bwt cats who always ask 4 battles while they r stil mentaly challanged/

nd cum thru with wack verses/

sum shit u wouldnt feel even if u cud put ur fingers in their asses/

my 4ne screen is broken bt i dnt c myself buyng their faces/

njengo munto goqa ipumper elisebenzile they jst rap(wrap) shit/ damn/

i got so many caskets so can any1 plz find me baby jake 2 box them? Ha ha they dead mos



Temogo Tabane

Motherfuckers spitting irrelevance preaching in the SlaughterHouse/

Fuck your missionary tendencies this is a fucking battle house/

I'm on point like hitting a bitches G-spot with the first stroke/

I'll battle the entire SH like Game did with G-Unit from 50 to Spider Loc/

I wouldn't fuck around even if I had sex in circular motion/

You get the motion? I mean even if you twisted my dick in rotation/

don't think of replying i'll fuck up your Ph balance with a methane potion/

fuck beef i'll feed you a bird flu infected raw chicken portion/

then swing an uppercut and give you a facelift/

Crack you spine like an Ethiopian tryna deadlift/

I switch flows so smooth call it the Swift Shift/

Even if your grans bewitched me I'd turn the curse into a gift/

Your game can't put a bitch on cloud 9 like blazing a weak spliff/

If you weak Niggas try to push weights your arms will fall off/

try to battle with The TACTICAL LYRICIST your head will fall off/

as if you on ur knees and I'm a Muslim with a blade chanting ALLAH AKBAR/

I'm like a TIGER in the WOODS you motherfuckers are not on my PAR/

fuck an upside down pyramid your lyricism is unstable like a 3 wheeled car/

I'm the Dominant Almighty I'll pop a cap in God's ass with a shooting star/

you Rappers are like ants of the same wack colony, I'll fit ya'll in a glass jar/

I can script a sick verse on a game of scrabble/

spit sicker than Jesus' most demented parable/

No rapper is of my species, so I aint a cannibal/

I'm the lyrical animal performin a lyrical miracle/

TACTICAL LYRICIST the resultant of Pythagoras theoretical scripts/

I'll chop off a blind rappers fingers and see how he'll read his braile scripts/

TACTICAL LYRICIST.



Xolani Ace Brooms

Click-clak! lemme strip em off lyk a gun/jus 2 prove im da best Wrapper wit killa lyrics leavin puppets Dead buried inside christmas gifts yun/even if word-plays wer sympathetic u stil wudnt excuse da Pun/sat bak, gav em a chance 2 spit dope lyrics bt provd dey aint got nun/ufck cliches, i stil shine bright n im stil hot lyk a sun/rhymes similar 2 a Rover's sun-roof dey stay on top of da Range/verse so sick u wud swear linez wer written in a hospital ward/thank God's friday, let da champaigns pop/beer cases drop/got a cold shoulda n SH is a mortuary... done seein diz dead rapperz... Im outta 2 celebr8t deir death!...braah!



Wandile Madoda Dlamin

In toilet lingo Wandill is number two//

Made for the sewage,you can tell by how i do//

emcees GO AWAY you false and watch me STAY true//

My urine intoxicates even toilet microbes//

Vocab so rich its wanted by Forbes//

You niggas ain't productive like a bitch in menopause//

Got more gifts than Santa Clause,am the effect and the cause//

Firing Rick Ross so you know who is boss//Imagine what i'll do to you if i enjoyed Christ on the cross//

Who is this major//

My dick's your mom's toilet paper//

No scripts cause i equate an actor to a faker//

Behind these bars like Selebi bitch bow//

snitch now damn fags//on the roll like car mags//from riches to rags//

WAND-ILL



Theo Conscious Singo

It's mathematically proven I'm the best in here/

U don't believe me? Well pay attention u fag/

Here's the Proof:

Suppose:a + b = c, applied in a practical theorem of a forensic lyrists/

This can also be written as:4a - 3a + 4b - 3b = 4c - 3c/

After reorganizing a verbal thesis/

I murder u mathematically like: 4a + 4b - 4c = 3a + 3b - 3c/

Take the constants out of the wack mc brackets:4 * (a+b-c) = 3 * (a+b-c)

Remove the same term left and right and bury the fagot:/

4 = 3, meaning 4 of my lines can kill 3 generations/

90% of y'all are wack beyond description/

I'm the illest you've ever heard i enhance inspiration/

My art of writing has become a forgotten miracle/

I use to converse with lyricists but now they speak to me in parables/

we use to write food for thoughts, now they ghostwrite catchy hooks/

their pictures are worth a 1000 words, mine are worth a 1000 books/

Matter of fact a 1000 schools/

Over the years i gained the ability to actively modulate your moods/

a tool that facilitates clarity of thoughts/

precisely why I'm always pleased with my efforts/

My punchlines are agendas for meetings of the minds/

True lyricism spit knowledge over the course of many lifetimes/

Writing my rhyme online is not a social experiment/

Before I write a verse I transcend into a trance/

Thru meditation I empty my thoughts into tube of my pen/

say word!



Gift G Sefak

I wud do a verse to wow yal , or get ya gal weter dan spring fall , m da sht, answerd d fone wen nature called, wil neva cut ma hair bt u hear em say G balled, ha...m wat these rappers wna be , do maths so ur galz want SUMma me , ur gal caln me ha baby like she motherd me , i knw u feeln me so much, u wish u cud be touchn me , open mic at da slaugter house bt al i kil iz da verse , feel da PAIN den i drive away n a pimped out herce , sht i wuld neva play games wid ya , got dragon ballz so da flames stil cum at ya , m ill , hav u admitn it like confesions usher...yeah, curtains openin bt i am stil showin off , turn yal galz on bt wen she wid u she stil showin off , makin it rain so chix wil neva b stormin off....we cn both cum like we do porn bt i go hardcore...u like 2 years in college...u are softemore....done!

...:::G:::...



Phatmouse Da Grindsmith

lol verses deserve hearses, horse driven/

the worst is the whores think they be raw spittin/

Your ghost writer bit that shit from my spirit/

so these Hieroglypics' over your helmet like sky limits/

divine lyrics/defyin gimmicks/

5 minutes with this lyrically miraculous/

syllable assassin is/similar to hacking cats/

into little party packs/playin smart has its draw backs/

kinda like this, 1 Kay let your jaw crack/

freestyle hustle-day, Papes put Sappi out/

Clean your fuckin fingertips, can't blame your crappy mouth/

Cats is Rats, so Phat be a happy Mouse/

Put ur script where it belongs, and throw the nappy out/




Lerato Lady E Seane

i see new cats droping frees/

i see cool cats with the Lady E/

I see hood rats change to church/

I see blue pens change to black/

I see Lady E still the queen/

I see to sum I'm still the king/

I see grave yard workers/

I see.......................dead rappers/