Lovesong by The Cure sung over a trap beat ("Stay True" (Beast Inside Beats) Free).

Lovesong (The Cure Fancast)

Im so way hazy when I talk about what’s raised heat. I’m phrasy when I talk about it… when I talk about it now. I weave a spin of verse. Listen as it surges to hit you, how it drowns out how it’s drawing out how it’s drawing out the sound.

Should I struggle the bar bricks, should I up throddle the hot switch? It’s what it is to lift so Imma step into the midst a lyricist as I persist to hyper twist the type I lisp as nice as this with artifice…it feels my face is flaming as I go saying:

what do you need another enterprise? I’mma go in and I’mma bust these lines. Imma go brighten until it shines; pleasure up these ryhmes; dribble it up refined. Please recline it’s the high end. I’mma bard, I’mma bar tend; there’s flavor at this part and this poem’s hand written (parts of it) I’ve busted my system (bars of script), kept it lit to uplift with the swish, yes, english. Listen good; please ecoute:

écouter bien les rhymes je me pose comme affaire je souhait est d’avantage à votre plaisire, et rendriez vous au question de votre plaisire en sommation du l’avenir (et le fin).

//** source: Get Lost Free Rap Instrumental

Song Sketch v1.1 - 7:14:17, 10.51 AM

This is a rough first take of me trying to keyboard accompany "Commas" Ft. Drake | Free Type Beat I Rap:Trap Instrumental.

Accompaniment Sketch Draft 1 @ "Commas" Ft. Drake | Free Type Beat - 7:17:17, 7.19 AM

Étude 1 - 9:10:17, 9.09 AM

“Triple Dribble Treble & Trap Well” 

Lyrics:
Yea yea now - got to bust; got to be loud - that’s sure out what that’s about - so I’mma say it’s tantamount to go in get the credit to get the count.

I dribble on the mic and I got edge - my call to mic gear raw just might cure y’all; I trap well, honed my mic and I got gas kits cool, the mic assets you’ll go partake in full 

as I roll out the flavor, what you want is a good shakespear, whose got the play cheer with pleasure and rapture on the rap charts, to bust bars and slam with top cards and full starts. 

Hey yo: and as I step in with the swing, it’s so that you can rap about anything. Let’s go. So what do you think I’ll bring? How about flows where I’m dancing and I sing

the unseen texts of selects that I fetch ever fresh with the zest at the fest from the east to west that I cook that I wrest for the best to be blessed off my chest I express.

I express my call to beat bust lyrical off the wall with the scroll of the skull I disc haul. I desk y’all a good script it’s lit parlance it hits a trance that fits romance as hips and hands may join at dances the man says enhances the chances,  

so I rip wide turn up where it’s densest and I insist high end system ins I swish that’s the sitch, the situation I hyper twist through the mix bustin’ all these bars, these bricks: that’s the gist of the script flips you witness.

Way in this flow it can bust, it can glow, you know the show: how it codes the echoes as you coast, that’s you close up, you go stop: what’s this hip hop I dribble? Is it the top notch?
  
Good verse may clasp at the hinge with the sass; you get whiplash; call it jazz status chats that I chase with this ace lit that’s traced wit dribbled; pour liquor by the grace spit?

And that’s ‘lit’ as in literature, though I’m on fire me and the furniture, I crave it’s sure. It’s so tantric that you know it swirves, as the bust observes in a flurry of maneuvers.

Tell me what you wanna think is finest or flawless? How about to balance it or bounce it like the bossest? I know the poses, I put on the robes, yes, as I flex the rhetorics for the shows best,  

the best that I can, in the end I spin a span that I am but a humble man though with a plan to rock you an anthem an then again,

with the in-in(k) butter I go get that cheddar hip hop nomenclature; call it treasure, let it simmer. Hey man mister’s tongue may blister by the list here but insists clear that it exists color. 

That’s called “lisp is lubed”, if I may be so rude, by this move, I’ve improved upon on my mood if I just groove with it, good bars code it’s lit; verbose fire pose at quits: y’all it’s biz. Yo that’s just business. Here I’m down to the brass tax so relax.  That’s real acts.  Relax.  Real acts relax.


©2017 the o lo g
Instrumental: "Hard Reggaeton Rap beat Trap instrumental Hip Hop Type 808 Trap beat 2017 Free NEW"

Triple Dribble Treble & Trap Well

That’s SOB boy on the beat.  And hey yo, up in this at the turn-up I’m “Lo” with the streaks that ye witness as I rip wits as I’m gaining delivering speech.  I step in with the reach and I’m all up in the breach.  Watch me reap.

Watch me reap texts that re-up.  Tastes like syrup, what? These tones and textures that cheer it up. They erupt. The air rapped at the trap where I trapeze easy. I keep my balance loud and breezy with the bounce that may please ye.  The air sounds so neat. Put it on repeat but I hound this beat I go trill elite my control so sweet. I seek the sleek streak texts of theater to get that cheddar to chat here like a Shakespeare.  Is that vain or clear? As I go dangle chandeliers I wrangle my maneuvers that I spin at the encounters as hot pounders as I pounce hard I pronounce to art that I’m a bard to start and a wealth of other things too in with the cards that I go barring.

Bust it early morning, verse is swarming.  Thrust it into noon and evening, on repeating. That’s the fire dream for the team to get the sheen on trampoline: I’m getting that cream; I’m setting out remes of texts they’re fine selects they’re wine and fresh peeps drunk at fests but by my breaths of rhetorics. Let me mic bless. It’s georgeous yes this jazz I heft I clef as my score, hot dribbling as I soak in the shower. I flow you my heart here. Hear it? As I bust it goes that you coast, trip and it’s lit. 

That it the sit, as in the whole situation. I be giving you a good translation. Me at my station. Where I bust I be blazing.  You can see I’ve been patient. This writ is mad radiant.  It’s hip and it’s eloquent.  I put this in evidence.   I say it with vehemence.  They’re slamming this at the dance.  The mic’s lit up in my hands. 

I push it I’m stylin I trap well not tiring this trip is a tyrant’s thing. I burst and get live at wing. I press and feel high I sing for my credentials and I’ve a pulse up at the temples as I spit fire ornamentals in the mix with instrumentals wresting the sensuals of the textualities I’m gonna say with my verse and my ease swishing it as I’m rocking on scenes dripping bling.

Trap went bang. I tear it up right whipped. That’s my thing. So let’s just hang. I pour you another and then it’s game that’s on the brain. I bust I’m swaying hype bossed so salient. So I sally on in it to sonnet my phonics’ hip hop tricks, up in the midst bar slams like bricks. You know these spits as hip hop hits as flaps these lips it trills no slips that’s my credits, my chits, they’re up on the table as I rap ye a fable like I be drilling it deep for oil I get the rawest texts I just boil or rock/draw from the soil. I work my toil to ill well. I’mma spit a spell.  I’ll go ring that bell. I hustle trills of stat lisp reels that I  distill yes as I wield this to beat blast realness.  Yes, we in this classic sickness.

I tender the renderments with the eloquence of ink radiance as ingredients I rink raid and dance. It ensnares entranced per its parlance all of my friends so I’m in stance to reference with reverence a raw sentence to glee the lands.  It’s in my hands. The mic hit and it slams.  Live swishin’ it’s the anthem and then again I blast and it’s the end. Flows have been penned.  Peace, my friends. That’s the sentence so end dance.


©2017 the o lo g
instrumental:  Motivational Trap Beat Free Rap Hip Hop Instrumental Music 2017 | SOB

Texts that Re-up

loop to master

The o lo g producer, also with the text slur. I’mma be that hustler: I stir the fire and print lit you may prefer; with the mic blips I man the fort; I’m on the floor. Amen the flower. Yet my spit some call it lower. I just glower then I glow heart, push a bar to be a bard and that’s my cards. I slam mics hard, yes.  I dribble up and I pass my test.  What is this?  It’s some hip hop breaths. And I cannot let it rest that I go to man the fest with these bars I manifest right off the chest. It’s no duress.  See mic is blessed.  I rock these sets for my conquests.	

And we’re about to tear it up, to erupt, to hear rap that’s tier hop. It’s like I poured in syrup with this theater rub. The air ruptured with the lectures I elect sure to ill hack, sirs.  Pour elixers. I like that service. Bust the swirve kits like it’s circus so raucus. Sore rockets as rock gets a raw kid to rake it, to hurray good. And tour I could, to where’d I’d cut a disc I’d swish with lisp as it’s my biz to hound these bits I blast in skits on the rapids. I rap hits so rabid, I’m in wonderland up with the rabbits busting all this magic calling it a rap spit.  I verse up on the mattress.  Bounce is oh so fabulous. Think that I can handle this. Up with these bars that twist; I push my chits; I slam my bricks; they’re on the table, leaving prince prints for all you people. I bust but am I evil? Can I just solve this riddle?   I ride all the waves popping it certain I’m swirving my phrase making slick plays to stand for today.  Hitting it up and I serve it with grace in hip hop parades. Call it trapeze.  Call it rap easy. It’s out of the booth where it’s breezy just as it needs to be. 

Sometimes I go zoom and I’m free, yet this one’s it’s a writ and it’s coming in from me. I go in cause I’m an MC, spitting ‘em seas, aiming to please, getting that cheese: it’s just what I see.  At this point I say, “have a nice day”. Heaven Highest: A plus, everyone else, stay blessed. That’s stablest like staples. I say pulls of wisdom as wits to humn. I dribble so my song is spun.  I trap well, a thespian, a musician, and then it’s gone.

the_o_lo_g

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