ToMMyRosenkilde

Tommey Rosenkilde Nielsen

Bust it, I let the beat commence so I can beat the sense in your elite defense
I got some meat to mince, a crew to stomp and two feet to rinse
I greet the gents and ladies, I spoil loyal fans
I foil plans and leave fluids leaking like oil bands
My coil hands around this microphone are lethal
One thought in my cerebral is deeper then a Jeep full of people
MC's are feeble, I came to cause some pandemonium
Battle a band of phony MC's and stand the lonely one
Imitator, Intimidator, Stimulator, Simulator of data,
There's never been a greater since the burial of Jesus
Fuck around and catch all the venereal diseases
My thesis will smash a stereo to pieces
My accapella releases classic masterpieces through telekinesis
And eases you mentally, gently, sentimentally, instrumentally
With entity, dementedly meant to be Infinite
tommey-N@hotmail.com

tommeynielsen@facebook

Rabbit run

lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
sweet

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I just don't want to waste another day
I'm trying to make things right
But you shove it in my face
And all those things you've done to me I can't erase
And I can't keep this inside
I stood there waiting
Hoping you would come around
But you always found a way to let me down
I can see
Through your lies
You're just trying to change me
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I betcha that I got something you aint got, that's called courage
It don't come from no liquor bottle, it aint scotch, it's not bourbon
I don't walk around like no G, cuz that aint me, I'm not that person
I don't try to act like you do, cuz that aint you, you just purpin
You aint

Comin up it never mattered what color you was
If you could spit then you could spit, thats it, thats what it was
Back when, motherf*ckers was straight back packin
Cypherin, fightin for life in this rap
for the mic to get past and you psyched and you gasped
and you hyped cuz you last and you might whoop some ass
If you lost then you lost shake hands like a man
and you swallowed it, when the unsigned hype column
at The Source was like, the only source of light
When the mics used to mean somethin, a four was like
you were the shit, now its like the least you get
three and a half now just means you a piece of shit
You dont know me you motherf*ckin punk
Will somebody please tell whoever braids his head
That I am not afraid, hes just a f*ckin waste of lead
on my pencil, for me to write some sh*t this simple
And its pitiful, cuz I would have never said sh*t to you if you'd have kept your mouth shut

November 2011

December 2011

ToMMyRosenkilde

Tommey Rosenkilde Nielsen

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