Sick of it All
by Iosua Tai Taeoalii
I’m
sick of poorly executed remakes of great movies,
modernized versions of excellence shattered by
screwy----Pop cultures.
Vultures, hovering the graves of aged ideas,
simple-minded non-progressive artists with
innovative diarrhea.
I’m sick of bug-eyed glasses worn by bean head
chicken leg, sociopaths,
graphically uniformed tramps,
horse hair extensions and pretentiously stamped
with kanji tattoos,
in a beetle or a Jetta or an S U V.
I’m sick of George Bush,
his whining voice,
his excuses,
his maneuvers in the white house and the council of crooks,
the human anatomy corral
when Dick hides bush and colon bowel,
how's they win?
who allowed comic book villains to speak on our
behalf?
Damn, Scratch, Scratch. (Yeah that’s right.)
I’m so incredibly sick of right wing
traditionalists,
apocalyptic, holocaustic unadventurous
conservatives,
with systematic propaganda led by rich white
males
who want to wipe out middle-aged, poor-waged,
commonwealth.
I’m sick of Get’R done, ignorant white trash
rednecks speaking monkey tongue,
Impaired drones maundering numbskulled mums,
Mindless hicks, easily lead automatons,
Anglo-Saxon spawn.
I’m sick of Paris Hilton and her alley cat ways,
her worthless contribution to the planet gets
praised
and leaves me truly amazed,
why do you celebrate a jezebels inherited gain?
If I’m forced to stomach anymore sounds and
visuals,
of Wife Swap, Love Cruise, Swan, Road Rules,
big brother, hells kitchen, house arrest, surf
girls,
Survivor, the apprentice and American
Idol,
I’m flyin’ off the deep end and I’m goin’
homicidal,
Reality shows make reality stars
and in reality I’m about to strap my car
with ridiculous amounts of TNT
to bulldoze the gates of NBC.
I’m so sick of family vans,
mini vans,
SUV’s stuffed with forty clueless kids at the
vehicles max capacity,
barely poised over the steering wheel traveling
at turtle speeds,
bob-cut mother and her white knuckle mastery,
discombobulated children watchin’ Disney DVD’s,
sing-along-songs of the most annoying degree,
Oh lord I’m so sick of guh, guh,
duh, duh
open mouth lirps
with oversized Adams apples
and neatly knitted sweat shirts,
drool stains on their shoulders from their
incoherent stares
retard demeanor contemplating D&D character’s
hit points left from a role playing battle
scene.
That they’ve been engaged in since 1993,
Silently involved with a book club that’s been
dominating
Their parents living room and family meetings.
I’m sick of poor teenage drivers
communicating and driving on cell phones,
writing and gliding the highway on mom’s bill,
weaving in and out of traffic,
gel dripping from their grill,
ill sculptured, salon treated skulls.
Bull----------shit!!! (watch the road)
I’ve grown sick of gumbas,
womb flooded rich boys trekking daddy’s H2,
on I-15,
I-80
Thru Ogden,
Provo,
on the roll to an auto shop cuz the tires are
low,
the oil is low,
And rich privileged pricks don’t know,
The logical diag—nosis,
how to fix common sense, and halitosis
Isn’t it a joke? (cough, cough)
I’m choking on the asinine ego of MC’s
declaring their name fifty times,
we go only 5 bars or 5 lines of a sentence
designed by a sluggish MC’s lack of rhymes
a direct result of an illiterate mind.
Who gives a shit what your name is?
let’s hear something provocative,
go nameless
talk, talk
spin the record,
drop the beat,
Kool Keith?
I don’t mind hearing proclamations of his name,
Cuz it’s a main part of his game,
and……..it’s Kool Keith.
If he sang songs like a scene from being john
Malkavoich, (now here this……..)
Malkavoich, Malkavoich, Malkavoich,
Kool Keith, Kool Keith, Kool Keith.
I’m sick of feeling obligated to do anything,
Obligiations negate the entire meaning of
performing the task from the very beginning.
I ask, what's the point?
If I anoint myself to satisfy a specific deed,
indeed I’ll concede,
Not for gratitude or guarantees,
but for the simple fact of human decency.
A word that has no association with the phony,
Oprah Winfrey,
who I’m so sick of seeing bribing her audience
with gifts and dowry’s,
In an hour we’ve been bribed by her
contributions to charity
to increase her own identity,
Oprah Winfrey is a ball of counterfeit feelings.
A chameleon that shapes to the situation on
screen.
Believe me, I’ve seen.
Finally,
celebrities?
I’m sick of Leno,
Tome Cruise,
Angelina Jolie,
Paris Hilton,
Feterline,
Lindsay Lohan,
and Tommy Lee
Celebrities think they have life figured out,
but their walking on a tightrope of a
blasphemous reality, no doubt,
with no sense of Real......
What’s real?
Our society, provides these personalities with
VIP themes,
put’em on pedestals then scream proficiency,
they don’t know any more than you or me.
The track summary……
I’m sick of this beat.............. |
