Pro Tool Robots - Haiku D'Etat

Myka 9:

I started running up in hips (hop)

When no other gratification grips like pops

As she rides on tops

I slide up in MPC-3000 slots

My double-density dicks

Behind the popper-stoppers emcees think they can rock (nope)

You think not pop (right)

I think so, stop (true)

Cyclopes tunnel vision, erects Pro-Tool robots

Flying faders, just let me fuck with the music and y’all stay stuck with the

haters

While I remain sucka free!

A musician is a true player up to kiss the mouthpiece

Outreach, touch my instrument, deep throat my reed

Plant my musical seed to breed, pure in the savage beast

On the average streets, pornographic heat

This nigga Myka on the mic, laugh at defeat

Dyslexic math, anorexic wrath

Decrepitly, intrepidly, you heavily pushing quick to an exit path

From the virus, Osiris, sear us

High me on iris, I’m in raw, beyond mere common law

Why kneel on computer stool?

Is Peter Norton your highness?

Facilitating your utilities

The sinus, dry-mucus membranes of a black hacker

Wannabe keyboard cracker

Looking for process speed

Surfing junk food snacker

Unearthing multidimensional possibilities

I’m well respected and stand stern while you sing more fowler than Howard

Hewlett-Packard

IBM Mr. Macintosh

A build power, a little coward we gonna do it, I’m a hardware jacker

Apple hats, still flossin' Wallabees and cyber projects

He’s a software wacker

I trash programs moved by these disk smugglers under BVDs

They even keister DVDs

It’s all in the risk of a nonstop juggler

Even within this computer era black man is still a struggler

We all have are struggles and personal troubles, Hubble

Telescopical, topical, tropical

Optical bubbles get burst

Every frame I put my knowledge first in this game and thirst

My throat feels rather parched

Arched doorways of my temple stiff as starch

Stained glass window pane shades like for spectroscopy

I’ll march in side-by-side separation for thy kingdom comes a monarch

And the Arc of the Covenant blast

Pass all class for me

I don’t give a fuck about bitches passin' me

Gas me in chambers, chastity, famous as majesty

Just to be trusted for tragedy

Wack-ass can be Alaskan pipe-line

Myka 9' loins flipping queens like coins for heads and tails in hell

You settin' up web page, chain letter

Check your email