Theirs pros to hip hop but there's a Consequence
When blind rappers turn around and lose their Consciousness
And amidst all the swag lose their confidence,
Only rapping bout lettuce and other condiments,
Reproducing like they don't know where the condom went,
Contracted & controlled by the continent,
All their conflicts continuously contradict,
Too many poop metaphors man constant shit,
So I constipate, and I confiscate
And sit em down on yoga mats until they contemplate,
and I bring em to my temple and they congregate,
and the sermon tells em that they have to concentrate.
When they feeling themselves its so conceded,
If they're the truth then why do they conceal it,
But in context, there's no content,
Can't sit still or conjure any concepts,
All their material's watered down and condensed
More corrupt than a conservative congress,
If Madeoff made off & A.Weiner showed his weiner, if I frak'd a couple chickens should I confess? Nah
Nickname these new rappers the confederate,
Making ghettos feel so condescended,
They bout to blow? But no, they're congested,
Kill em off, concussions to contestants,
But I hope they're words and soul's convertable,
Cuz nobody cares bout your convertible
But if u wana conform for consumers,
Just call the one hit wonder conductor,
There'll be money ringtones and concerts,
But while you concur, I will conquer,
And hopefully hip hop will converse,
Classic like converse, that was just my con verse

When it comes to hip hop, there are pros and cons,
Positives and negatives for those who rhyme,
So everything that's spat to you is half the truth,
Lemee try to tell you with latin roots





Yes, there are cons, but there totally are pros,
When locally the pros spittin' poetry and prose,
Heroically we flow, hip hop's making progress,
When your patient with your creative process
And when you put your protons in your projects,
Not for profits, or gods prophets,
Not for proceeds, or promoters,
But to proceed like a pro's motor,
To uplift in a manner non-prophetic,
To keep it real and kill the autotuned prosthetic,
To relate, whether professin' or on probation,
And to free the mind, an independence proclamation
To spit it so crispy, procrastinate, To spin it 360 protractor's way,
To wipe the shit they bumping off the face of the earth, call it wack ass rapper's pro-active day
This pro is spitting the prohibition I'm pro efficient,
My proposition's to prosecute all this prostitution,
P romiscuous rappers are far too provocative,
Stacking provolone, 6 figure approximates,
But when w e protest like a protestant
And tell the truth, it's positively prosperous,
Now instead a cheese its protein and produce,
Choppin beets like produce in beats you produce
Lyrical wizards fulfilling the prophecy,
Ign oring the propaganda and the property,
Make it deep, goosebump inducing profound,
Make it honest, make your fiends and parents so proud,
Put your heart and soul in everything you pronounce,
In every pronoun, you can be a pro now


It's undeniable that hip hop's an art form,
whether soft or hardcore, what are you making art for?
Do you put your heart in your art and articulate,
or do you part with your arts and participate
Are you artificial? or is your art official?
you write articles? Are does your art tickle?
Are you artsy? Are you're an artist?
Or do you need a therapist like Artest?
Are your artistic? Or are you autistic?
Your art is fiction? Or your art is fact?
Do you suspend heart attacks with your artifacts?
Are your artists the sharpest and smartest?
Or are your artards dearly departed?
Are you Bartleby's silence, are you art or science?
Are you writing till you have arthritis
The heart of all the art is if you put you heart in it,
Or do you do it for the bread like an artisan
See this artistry though my arteries,
Got a semi-artoumatic; paintball artillery,
Art sounds, heart pounds, smart clowns, start crowds,
Hip Hop, wherefore art thou?