| This is the master thesis underneath the deepness
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| Come to micclub.net where you can read this
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| run a plot on a map hyper space 'ya
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| From the society for scientific exploration
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| color is vibration, vibration is sound
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| sound resonates through the mouth check it out
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| What I say vibrates no less than 9 ways
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| South, South East, West, south west, east
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| North, North east, North west
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| And the black and white images fade
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| to great sound waves
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| Track my adversaries like a mouse in a maze
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| with a bewildering array, of lyrical display
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| The best of Bis oftenly rearrange
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| Moto atomic elements, with a deft intelligence
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| The highest professorship, my English etiquette
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| compels me to not say it if I can’t spell it bitch
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| My circularised 3rd Eye, sees all
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| Atlantis was surrounded by 4 sea walls
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| I read one-fourth of the Library of Alexandria
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| before it was burnt to the floor
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| I wish I could’ve learned more
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| about the shapes of the sacred geometry they used to draw
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| They were new millennium but Euclidian in form
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| ancient in many ways but not nearly as old
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| Carved from Egyptian gold molded in Assyria
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| with processed Beryllium by the quintillion
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| They cooked on symmetrical stoves
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| with my logo etched above the hole where they inserted the coal
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| And they barbecued birds to the bone
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| They burned incense in a Buck Mister Fuller type dome
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| I talked to Mr. Fuller over the phone
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| and he said he had a contract to rebuild Rome
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| said he didn’t want to do it alone
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| I told him I was busy writing poems
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| but I’ll think about going
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| The process was slow, and the dough was low
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| but I took it as the perfect opportunity to grow
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| plus I never traveled that far from home
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| but I heard about the beauty of Sydonian (city of ancient Phoenicia) snow
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| neon green grass, statues made from translucent glass
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| I’ll be crazy to pass
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| I like nigerian Jazz
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| the blue twilight band
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| that plays tunes from a laser black sax
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| it sounds so laid back
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| it helps me relax
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| I brought the album after seeing K-Pax
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| Ooh how I miss my nautilus
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| i was told faren goat and mcdotilus did not exist
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| you have a modest case of scaphocephalous
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| I prescribe some neo gothic anti-biotics
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| words concocted from the lyrical lock smith
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| deadly as 10 droplets of Ricin toxin
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| from every angle the competition gets boxed in its Dr. C indoctrinates his doctrine
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| translate the English alphabet
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| to the omega text
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| life is now and death is next
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| post bond out on bail from the belly of hell
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| communicate through diatonic and pentatonic scale
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| these dark side tales might affect sales
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| I set sail and hunt down erect sperm whales
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| use the aphrodisiac to get a female
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| call ginger tie her up and drink her ginger ale
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| grand maryey for me scotch on the rocks for you
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| your vocab is smaller than a cup of jewels
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| in the studio with james lipton
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| reminiscing about the script that was written
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| before the beginning
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| all of a sudden the boo’s turned into applause
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| my jaws stronger then the kenenday Macaws
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| cant even count the bars
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| i’ve expended so far
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| don’t want to rap no more its been so long
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| i wish the clock would hurry up and tick
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| im out in the bush and the sticks
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| humpin a hundred clicks
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| dr scholes gave me a good fit
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| me and him went to school together back in 86
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| when I was really ill
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| puttin flank energy in a rhyme the size of a Tylenol pill
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| you wanna laugh now
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| and cast your belligerent doubt
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| show you what poetry is really about
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| the side affects will make you pass out
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| followed by skin rash
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| itching diarrhea nausea and dry mouth
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| you want a time out?
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| you better spit a rhyme out
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| before the community of real mc’s die out
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| college students say to me you ain’t smart
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| Record label A&Rs say: this ain’t art
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| these are the contents of the covenant of the art
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| listen to my chest beat tell me this ain’t heart
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| You gotta be as obsequious
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| as the Disciples of Jesus
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| this is my MASTER THESIS |