Emissions (Final) ft. Sycho

Bill

Bill 2

Last Chapter (Explicit) ft. Sycho

Bill Track 2

Undefined Truth

I seek the freedom of my dreams cause while I sleep 
My weaknesses seem to cease impeding me from seein reason
I see the demons and their schemes to bind the sheep
By sneakin in beneath the streets releasing greed and breathin treason 

We’re in a forest of our problems so important and ignored 
For several orbits of the cosmos that the horrors are adored
And all the morals are forgotten or distorted and conformed
And then you forfeit when the toxins lyin dormant are restored 

And coursin through your veins in waves of pain you shake in hate 
Enslaved in weighted chains and wait for days in cages
Till you’re mournin who is sane the brave remain and fake sedation
Savin nameless faces from the maze of graves

But convictions are a fiction in this place and time, where wasted minds 
Addicted to prescriptions and complacent crimes 
Find that they’re acquitted cause the prisons have no space inside to hide 
The victims from the system crippled from the blatant lies 


Dream Freedom

I slip in your mind wishin to find diction that isn’t confined to lines drippin with rhymed fiction
I listen to lies given for guys and find sickening signs that time’s tricklin by while you lie with him
Till I’m crippled and blind missin my pride tricked in to complyin with your villainous vision 
To strip me of my mission in life this is the crime that I witnessed: pickin up guys give up our life and I die with it

So it’s a murder but a shell remains to stain the name I claimed before the pain emerged in every vein 
 
When I returned to you I searched and prayed for ways to change the way you’d say my name with hate and turn away. That hurt remains

I look to the stars to find a plausible cause to exist when claws tore with horrible scores on my chest
And took out my heart with a laudable pause just to audibly cause me more scars than I get from the death
From the crook of the reaper’s blade crooked but unhooked like a book after passin the last decent page  
I mistook you for the dream who stays wouldn’t but you coulda stood up faster when I asked you on that second date 



Second Date

Sellin leverage secrets of heaven to demons 
Hells never seen a felon as lethal fellin the people
Quellin the rebel ions the scenes soaked in mud 
These folks be done, they choke and grunt
From throats that flood with blood so copious
Need coke to run, open puns on spoken tongues
Flow through lungs then grow become beholden rungs 
For those who hung low blown focus stung
By a bee finally flyin free 
Timelessly findin trees climb to see 
Sky and flee eyes of thee hide in glee 
Silently ride on sprees glide with ease 
Quietly bide and creep inside and sneak 
Slidin sweets surprised when feet collide and meet cry in beats
Try to plea why must he stride the street violently
Deny release dyin weak pride depletes consign defeat
Buy a seat I’m piously rhyming these kinda threes 
Designed to beat blind mind feats resigned to feed
On times retreat to rhymes that speak
On crimes of heat all lies and cheats
The slime that seeps lines the sheet
Mankind’s deceit unwinds the beat
The swine that we enshrine and heed
Define the weak behind the scenes
It’s by a feat refined for weeks
I grind my teeth to remind me
My bite excretes lime that eats
Those signed in suites so I’ll compete
Till my mind bleeds out to sever heads  
Killed by rhyme heed doubt that’s hemorrhage    
Still I find these droughts of veterans
Filled by time we shout for specimens 
Of relevant presence, intelligent message
No sellin me lessons, propellin depression  
Repellin the legends , expellin progression
Rebellin with weaons, blow hell a new entrance
With shells that will deafen I swell with aggression 
Fight or flight hits, freight tightens fists 
Quite a night this, might light the wicks 
Life’s a blight quit, plight to find fits 
Right to write wit, rites define bliss
Chemical reaction causin a panic
Decibel retraction gauze in the cabinet
Tactical extraction God’s in the attic
Rappin isn’t magic yo its ploysylabics


Skag Gully

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