Poetry Collection Ty Garrett block 7

I wish I found some better sounds no one's ever heard

I wish I had a better voice that sang some better words

I wish I found some chords in an order that is new

I wish I didn't have to rhyme every time I sang

I was told when I get older all my fears would shrink

But now I'm insecure and I care what people think

My name's Blurryface and I care what you think

My name's Blurryface and I care what you think

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

We're stressed out

But it would remind us of when nothing really mattered

Out of student loans and tree-house homes we all would take the latter

My name's Blurryface and I care what you think

My name's Blurryface and I care what you think

Sometimes a certain smell will take me back to when I was young

How come I'm never able to identify where it's coming from

I'd make a candle out of it if I ever found it

Try to sell it, never sell out of it, I'd probably only sell one

It'd be to my brother, 'cause we have the same nose

Same clothes homegrown *a stone's throw from a creek we used to roam

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

We used to play pretend, give each other different names

We would build a rocket

We used ship and then we'd fly it far away

Used to dream of outer space but now they're laughing at our face

Saying, "Wake up, you need to make money"

Yeah

We used to play pretend, give each other different names

We would build a rocket ship and then we'd fly it far away

Used to dream of outer space but now they're laughing at our face

Saying, "Wake up, you need to make money"

Yeah

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

Wish we could turn back time, to the good old days

When our momma sang us to sleep but now we're stressed out

Used to play pretend, used to play pretend, bunny

We used to play pretend, wake up, you need the money

Used to play pretend, used to play pretend, bunny

We used to play pretend, wake up, you need the money

We used to play pretend, give each other different names

We would build a rocket ship and then we'd fly it far away

Used to dream of outer space but now they're laughing at our face

Saying, "Wake up, you need to make money"

Yeah

'cause we have the same nose

Same clothes homegrown *a stone's throw from a creek we used to roam

1.The sensory experience the author is trying to give is he is trying to get you to picture yourself as a kid getting tucked in and your mom singing you to sleep.

2.The sensory experience that the writer is trying to give the audience is the feeling of exploring and having fun as a kid. The emotions that the writer is trying to get across is that he misses his childhood.

Tyler Joseph. Stressed out. Blurry Face,Warner/Chappell Music, Inc,May 17, 2015.Google Play Music. https://play.google.com/music/preview/Tflgczyzw5lup64b4ksw7l4ccj4?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-. Accessed 6 Nov.2016

Rap God by Eminem

Look, I was gonna go easy on you and not to hurt your feelings

But I'm only going to get this one chance

Something's wrong, I can feel it (Six minutes, Slim Shady, you're on)

Just a feeling I've got, like something's about to happen, but I don't know what

If that means, what I think it means, we're in trouble, big trouble,

And if he is as bananas as you say, I'm not taking any chances

You were just what the doctor ordered

I'm beginning to feel like a Rap God, Rap God

All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod

Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?

They said I rap like a robot, so call me Rapbot

But for me to rap like a computer must be in my genes

I got a laptop in my back pocket

My pen'll go off when I half-cock it

Got a fat knot from that rap profit

Made a living and a killing off it

Ever since Bill Clinton was still in office

With Monica Lewinsky feeling on his

I'm an MC still as honest

But as rude and indecent as all hell syllables, killaholic (Kill 'em all with)

This slickety, gibbedy, hibbedy hip hop

You don't really wanna get into a pissing match with this rappidy rap

Packing a Mac in the back of the Ac, pack backpack rap, yep, yackidy-yac

The exact same time I attempt these lyrical acrobat stunts while I'm practicing

That I'll still be able to break a motherfuckin' table

Over the back of a couple of faggots and crack it in half

Only realized it was ironic I was signed to Aftermath after the fact

How could I not blow? All I do is drop F-bombs, feel my wrath of attack

Rappers are having a rough time period, here's a Maxipad

It's actually disastrously bad

For the wack while I'm masterfully constructing this masterpiece as

I'm beginning to feel like a Rap God, Rap God

All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod

Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?

Let me show you maintaining this shit ain't that hard, that hard

Everybody want the key and the secret to rap immortality like I have got

Well, to be truthful the blueprint's simply rage and youthful exuberance

Everybody loves to root for a nuisance

Hit the earth like an asteroid, did nothing but shoot for the moon since

MC's get taken to school with this music

Cause I use it as a vehicle to bust a rhyme

Now I lead a new school full of students

Me? I'm a product of Rakim, Lakim Shabazz, 2Pac N-

-W.A, Cube, hey, Doc, Ren, Yella, Eazy, thank you, they got Slim

Inspired enough to one day grow up, blow up and be in a position

To meet Run DMC and induct them into the motherfuckin' Rock n'

Roll Hall of Fame

Even though I walk in the church and burst in a ball of flames

Only Hall of Fame I be inducted in is the alcohol of fame

On the wall of shame

You fags think it's all a game 'til I walk a flock of flames

Off of planking, tell me what in the fuck are you thinking?

Little gay looking boy

So gay I can barely say it with a straight face looking boy

You witnessing a massacre

Like you watching a church gathering take place looking boy

Oy vey, that boy's gay, that's all they say looking boy

You get a thumbs up, pat on the back

And a way to go from your label everyday looking boy

Hey, looking boy, what you say looking boy?

I got a "hell yeah" from Dre looking boy

I'mma work for everything I have

Never ask nobody for shit, get outta my face looking boy

Basically boy you're never gonna be capable

To keep up with the same pace looking boy

'Cause I'm beginning to feel like a Rap God, Rap God

All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod

The way I'm racing around the track, call me Nascar, Nascar

Dale Earnhardt of the trailer park, the White Trash God

Kneel before General Zod this planet's Krypton, no Asgard, Asgard

So you be Thor and I'll be Odin, you rodent, I'm omnipotent

Let off then I'm reloading immediately with these bombs I'm totin'

And I should not be woken

I'm the walking dead, but I'm just a talking head, a zombie floating

But I got your mom deep throating

I'm out my ramen noodle, we have nothing in common, poodle

I'm a doberman, pinch yourself in the arm and pay homage, pupil

It's me, my honesty's brutal

But it's honestly futile if I don't utilize what I do though

For good at least once in a while

So I wanna make sure somewhere in this chicken scratch I scribble and doodle

Enough rhymes to maybe to try and help get some people through tough times

But I gotta keep a few punchlines just in case cause even you unsigned

Rappers are hungry looking at me like it's lunchtime

I know there was a time where once I

Was king of the underground, but I still rap like I'm on my Pharoahe Monch grind

So I crunch rhymes, but sometimes when you combine

Appeal with the skin color of mine

You get too big and here they come trying to,

Censor you like that one line I said on "I'm Back" from the Marshall Mathers LP

One where I tried to say I take seven kids from Columbine

Put 'em all in a line, add an AK-47, a revolver and a nine

See if I get away with it now that I ain't as big as I was, but I've

Morphed into an immortal coming through the portal

You're stuck in a time warp from 2004 though

And I don't know what the fuck that you rhyme for

You're pointless as Rapunzel with fucking cornrows

You're like normal, fuck being normal

And I just bought a new Raygun from the future

To just come and shoot ya like when Fabolous made Ray J mad

'Cause Fab said he looked like a fag at Maywhether's pad

Singin' to a man while they played piano

Man, oh man, that was a 24/7 special on the cable channel

So Ray J went straight to the radio station the very next day

"Hey, Fab, I'mma kill you"

Lyrics coming at you at supersonic speed, (JJ Fad)

Uh, sama lamaa duma lamaa you assuming I'm a human

What I gotta do to get it through to you I'm superhuman

Innovative and I'm made of rubber

So that anything you saying ricocheting off of me and it'll glue to you

I'm never stating, more than never demonstrating

How to give a motherfuckin' audience a feeling like it's levitating

Never fading, and I know that the haters are forever waiting

For the day that they can say I fell off, they'd be celebrating

Cause I know the way to get 'em motivated

I make elevating music, you make elevator music

Oh, he's too mainstream

Well, that's what they do when they get jealous, they confuse it

It's not hip hop, it's pop, cause I found a hella way to fuse it

With rock, shock rap with Doc

Throw on Lose Yourself and make 'em lose it

I don't know how to make songs like that

I don't know what words to use

Let me know when it occurs to you

While I'm ripping any one of these verses diverse as you

It's curtains, I'm inadvertently hurtin' you

How many verses I gotta murder to,

Prove that if you're half as nice at songs you can sacrifice virgins too uh!

School flunkie, pill junky

But look at the accolades the skills brung me

Full of myself, but still hungry

I bully myself cause I make me do what I put my mind to

And I'm a million leagues above you, ill when I speak in tongues

But it's still tongue in cheek, fuck you

I'm drunk so Satan take the fucking wheel, I'm asleep in the front seat

Bumping Heavy D and the Boys, still chunky, but funky

But in my head there's something I can feel tugging and struggling

Angels fight with devils, here's what they want from me

They asking me to eliminate some of the women hate

But if you take into consideration the bitter hatred that I had

Then you may be a little patient and more sympathetic to the situation

And understand the discrimination

But fuck it, life's handing you lemons, make lemonade then

But if I can't batter the women how the fuck am I supposed to bake them a cake then?

Don't mistake it for Satan

It's a fatal mistake if you think I need to be overseas

And take a vacation to trip a broad

And make her fall on her face and don't be a retard

Be a king? Think not, why be a king when you can be a God?

1. You would have to know that Bill Clinton was president

2. Odin is Thor's dad.

Written by Fatimah Shaheed, Juanita A. Lee, Juana Michelle Burns, Dania Birks, Kim Nazel, Marshall Mathers, Bigram Zayas, Matthew Delgiorno, Stephen Hacker, D. Davis, R. Walters, Ronald H. Robinson. "Rap God". The Marshal Mathers LP2.November 5th, 2013 Copyright © Peermusic Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group, Shelly Bay Music, BMG Rights Management US, LLC, Missing Link Music.https://play.google.com/music/preview/Ttfo3gvwd6dkizqkln2s46wt5hq?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-lyrics. Accessed 6 Nov.2016

Odin is the older one.

Closer by the Chainsmokers

Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you

I drink too much and that's an issue but I'm okay

Hey, you tell your friends it was nice to meet them

But I hope I never see them again

I know it breaks your heart

Moved to the city in a broke down car

And four years, no calls

Now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar

And I can't stop

No, I can't stop

So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover

That I know you can't afford

Bite that tattoo on your shoulder

Pull the sheets right off the corner

Of the mattress that you stole

From your roommate back in Boulder

We ain't ever getting older

We ain't ever getting older

We ain't ever getting older

You look as good as the day I met you

I forget just why I left you, I was insane

Stay and play that Blink-182 song

That we beat to death in Tuscon, okay

I know it breaks your heart

Moved to the city in a broke down car

And four years, no call

Now I'm looking pretty in a hotel bar

And I can't stop

No, I can't stop

So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover

That I know you can't afford

Bite that tattoo on your shoulder

Pull the sheets right off the corner

Of the mattress that you stole

From your roommate back in Boulder

We ain't ever getting older

We ain't ever getting older

We ain't ever getting older

So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover

That I know you can't afford

Bite that tattoo on your shoulder

Pull the sheets right off the corner

Of the mattress that you stole

From your roommate back in Boulder

We ain't ever getting older

We ain't ever getting older (we ain't ever getting older)

We ain't ever getting older (we ain't ever getting older)

We ain't ever getting older (we ain't ever getting older)

We ain't ever getting older

We ain't ever getting older

No we ain't ever getting older

1.You're heart can not break in a literal sense

2.You are getting older everyday in life.

16Written by Frederic Kennett, Andrew Taggart, Ashley Frangipane, Shaun Charles Frank "closer" Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Georgion Secret Music Google 2016 https://play.google.com/music/preview/Ttjbte6bxglwm77af2mktxkmnni?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-lyrics Nov 8, 2016

Its not Just a Game By:Ty Garrett

Everybody knows that a football is round.

But not everybody knows how much we grind

Not everybody knows how often we get taken to the ground

people think that we dont need to use our mind

All the sweat and blood that we put out.

All off season and everyday after school.

The reason we scream and shout

Though the sport can sometime be cruel

We love every aspect of this game

But our main goal is to have people respect our name

Credits:

Created with images by kloxklox_com - "evening sky sky clouds" • Ian Sane - "Multnomah Creek" • Free Grunge Textures - www.freestock.ca - "Broken Heart Grunge" • filterssofly - "american football football sports"

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