Benefit - Behold lyrics

rate me

Well my style's free it can't be held in any cage of prison.

While you resorect my rhymes, I practice blaytin' playgerism.

Livin' in the age of wisdom but surrounded by the dead.

A BENEFITIAL sage's wisdom sent to pound it in your head.

Sound'll spread, eardrums bleed, round this bed drownin executive,

Soul Sick Records is found, crown instead, dirty openly, with a low blow below the overy, thought to be extinct I practice ancient Crypto Poetry.

Rips so nobely the elderly, call me gentlemen.

Taken over sound wars with an instrumental plan.

Subtle stand but dominant, hobble man yet prominant.

Cause earthquakes by nodding heads on all seven continents.

Rotting like warm fruit that spoils in the south.

When I spit so hot this saliva boils in my mouth.

Flow words above your head, to make stretch and catch an eighty-six.

I wrote grafitti daily with an Etch-A-Sketch

Dialect Chili-Raw, go ask the nurses what they saw

Doctors died when I opened up my mouth to say Ah

(Ah, Ah, Ah)

Throw hip-hop on time with culture, style, and mike, wear black shades because I rhyme in ultra-violet light.

Silent night, wicked light, womens lace wearin' sinfull.

Blow speakers leavein' remnants, of bass snaring and symbol.

If you bite this make sure you chew at least a thousand times.

Because it's difficult to swallow even my weakest rhymes.

(Chorus)

Behold(behold)let the hip-hop unfold, the glorious sound brings youth to the old.

Behold(behold)let the music control, the wonderful sound brings truth to the soul.

Behold(behold)let the culture be bold, the brilliant sound brings heat to the cold.

Behold(behold)let the world know, the emaquilent sound will constantly grow.

I lace my drumloop witha nasty old C chord.

I murder swiss beats with a Casio keyboard.

These toiling M.C's, got my soul-sushin', their gold-rushin', while I bring it back their old cold-crushin'.

Boring clean beats offerin' no thrill.

You can call my mouth "SOIL" cause it's just so ill.

My mouth is dangerous, and this is something I fear.

Killed six girlfreinds wisphering sweet nothings in ears.

I was born to be profound, and I'm not new to this.

I used to rhyme my ultra-sound out my mom's uturis.

Lyrical crusafix, Hip-hop why have you foresaken me?

East and flow rise like yeast and dough in a bakery.

No matter the condition, spittin' Bennie O' Blissin'

And like Mister Rogers I'm nice to any who listen.

In a mean way I never sat by the lips of the kind.

Rhymes written, so brail will burn the fingertips of the blind.

Words pierce any armor so that's a useless vest.

Grocery store skill, cause' what I produce is fresh.

Highly selected beats, like when a Pope was chosen.

Science baflled by spontanious dope explosion.

Death at an early age is all the lost deserve.

M.C's are like fast food ice-cream, soft served.

As far as sales, it's something I don't bring up.

Cause' I'm outsold by dirty fat women backing that thing up

(Chorus)