Lyrics: Brendon Wilkie/Lady Poetic
Music: LB Productions
It’s a territorial hope affair
Building futures in ancient lairs
Till there’s silver in our hair, and fine lines to bear
The guild is thine, watch us work in pairs
Working in volumes, making time stand in columns
Phonograph static encapsulates molecules
Vibrating on the tables like water droplets making teardrops possible
Mr and Mrs Illogical
Beats and bars for days, barricades bend and break cuz we’re unstoppable
The topics are lethal, beseeching regents and regals
Embodying the Harpy Celaeno, screech like an eagle
Field goals, LB going killer on the beat tho
Meat roasts on the pole above the glowing embers smoke
The infinite encampment, artistry I’ll put my stamp in and won’t choke
Rip rock, roll and spoke
You can still smell the hope
Folks, every bar is built in shadows of cloaks
Breath control fans the flames highlighting pen strokes
This is the magic of the music- watch as we invoke
Connections so relentless, tightrope walk to the scope
LP, LB, Wilk and Amol
Been bald for twenty years and I’ve drank a billion beers
But I still grew up to spit darts and start careers
I’m a psychotic hunter with who nobody’s blunter
I laugh like it’s thunder, ear drums never asunder
But here I am now, all fat and lethargic
Rhymes skills so developed like a patronage artist
I don’t say retarded but I’ll turn you to varnish
Spread you so thin and leave you so disregarded
With all my last foes, I found gems like LP
Willing to build with Amol, me and LB
Sonic defiance projects on the backs of your eyelids
Some say we are mystics but trust me it’s just science
Life’s a 16 and this crew can't be shook.
16 bars from 506 books
Rewind this shit and then take a good look
We’re the seasoned elitists with no need for good hooks