The March

The Grouch

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    [Grouch:]
    Let's do this March
    We goin' on a little march y'all
    Put that right foot out

    They call me the Grouch, at 6'1" that's my height overall
    Cuz that's a light and yell complexion though my brain never stalls
    Look for rain; I revolve around this planet like I own it
    Developing my style, mother fucker don't try to clone it
    Yes, I hone it in my basement, you're replacement is near
    If you hold the mic too long you'll get smeared like a queer
    And I appear, like 39 go deep beneath the level, of the sea you seein' me
    So why are you yellin' devil?
    Man, I've been shovelin' that shit for hella years and I'm no rebel
    But I always speak my mind when over the bass and treble
    Time to face the kettle that calls that pot black back
    But that's not the way to act
    Then that's not the way to react
    We cap lyrically, affect you spiritually
    Let the music do it to your soul on a whole

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    [Eligh:]
    I would like to know the reason why we
    As an underground family always get the third degree
    1000 watts of meat knocking MC's right out of their seat
    Marcher on the beat with crooked feet to the concrete
    4:20 is sparked on the Dark Side of the Moon
    Searching for the distortion so I slide through the saloon
    Hoping to catch a train to escape this brainless yield
    Take this stainless steel Army qualified shield to my chest
    Armed to the "T" in armor, I be a city farmer
    Plantin' my seeds with a 2000 degree regulated hoe
    Can't be faded though by the sleet or the snow
    My crops grow
    Regardless of this system-eco
    Keep my ego in check like a needle to the neck of a feeble balloon speck
    Always on deck
    My shit never gets out of proportion
    I'm a doctor of abortions
    For hollow lyrics born with no spirit
    If this rhyme describes your rap content then I refuse to hear it
    I'll be on BB repeat
    To have the media retreat
    And take their seat in the fires
    Heat, as we fire this fleet of hip-hop beats over oceans of space
    Using weapons of bass to encase your skull
    Like a glass box
    I'll be the last to jock and first to rock a show with a poet I respect
    Not on Star Trek but I check my grounding
    By evaluating all my immediate surroundings
    I know you hated my dismount while you discount this pounding
    It's called cranial drowning
    I'm the founding father of my survival
    You can't stop the arrival
    So pop the cork when the stork drops them Grapes of Wrath
    Don't need to be up on calculus to calculate the math
    So when my shit jocks I'll make sure my shit rocks
    Smokin' that nuclear bomb I'll die known as spinny-ox

    [Grouch:]
    They call me the Grouch at 20/20 that's my sight overall
    My vision never fails, I prevail and watch you fall
    Small people try to act as if they're equal but they're not
    Always gabbin' in your ear, offerin' somethin' they don't got
    But I can spot them in a crowd of many thousand from afar
    I stay away from them, like women do my car, but are
    We gonna be ourselves? That's truly the question
    If I catch you frontin' to me that's the end of our session
    Of bein' friends; I'm seein' men fallin' deep into the cracks
    So I'm peepin' into raps so I can sleep, on my back
    Between the sheets; call my fleet when I awake
    Forever work on music and make the beat till I... break

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