Undercover Music

When it comes to cut and prod?
I'm up like the Mossad!
As in I aim high, maim when I fly

Leave only stains when I divide lies!

Raw and slick, bucking fits
Like walking down the Gaza Strip screaming FUCK IT!
Chalking my blitz without pausing a bit

Because popping shit and chopping crisp
Is the SECOND richest place to grace for my lips. Next to the clit!
Spilling verse because this ill berserk still

Stops first for milfs who squirt and free-verse is dispersed
As dessert! Divine juice is the real meal
And rhyming through is skimming off what I feel!

Trimming after, peals of laughter, reveal what matters
What's concealed is what I'm after!

Nothing's forever hidden to those clever with rhythm...

Every lock that was ever picked in?
Every door any cop ever kicked in?
Every vault that was ever shaken?

Every fall that was ever taken?

Every introduction snapping?
Every seduction that just HAD to happen?
Every production that ever lasted past the end?

Had a way in,
I-replace-able cadence within
A gap of the right placement

So...      The whole of any security hole anyone's finding...
Is in the alignment of movement to timing.

I got hot clearing this sense,
Because all prose is thought experiments
All hidden decisions have their bits of rhythm

And being sure at night,
Swerving right,
Blurring left,

Interring slight
To be turning tight...

Strong core in lost sound.
I longboard across town.
4 wheels close to ground?

Means feeling every bump around.

If a rock jumps, I've found?
The mode of read-the-road astounds
Rhythm from Earth disperses more under my feet

Than just how to cover 11 miles of street
Every bend, every beat
Every end runs complete

And my bones read it back,
Inscribed in the same zone where I lay tracks
Playing my hand front to back

Upfront never slack
1 blunt and ACK!

My mouth is overtaken and what's quaking cracks
Gray sidewalk and streets is black
I play and ride on top; drop and eat a whole pack!

Off of that, I come down rapidly,
Thought-snacks synergize, a habit to me
While redirecting the energy into gravity!

Flow hard enough and every tapestry?
Magically shows the holes where the rhythm throws
What's hidden will always be rippling...

Get above space blind,
Love what graces your mind
And suddenly clear twinkling crimes

Happen to extend and tell
Appear like Madame L'Engell's
A Wrinkle in Time.

I don't think when I rhyme...
Just drink, smoke and climb!
What appears is what was underlined!