Verse 1:
Whenever I come I come at ya hard like I'm try tryna trademark
That Radical Sound start for DSP's art
Try to jump start ya heart with that sedition in bar form
And get ya to roll up outta ya carport
Starboard view, a raised fist up outta the window
With the system up while that contentious wind blows
And everybody knows it's Radicalisation
The Dark Side Poet with his left inclinations
(Hate 'em!) Cannibal capitalist
Tryna rationalise the fact that y'all nationalist
Just another name for racist corporations
Defacing foreign lands via globalisation
Taking what they want and now the people are found wanting they blood
Planning and plotting in razed blazing hubs
Fighting for a future that's bright for our cubs
While the western kids are drinking and drugging up in ya clubs

Verse 2:
Raised without the knowledge of the difference between left and right
I was born again with insight, new sight
New sounds abound while mic cords are wound round
The throats of those who try to dumb it down
Get familiarised with my lyrics, ain't gimmicks
But getting attention like it is it
Get familiarised with tendencies to vent the same shit
Over and over again but suckers gotta face it
'Cos suckers don't listen and suckers just don't understand
How the DSP see half ya topics as contraband
Half of you listeners are just plain retarded
Stuck in the battle unaware the war has started
Half of you little rappers ain't got nothing on me
Too busy playing with words; your verses lacking veracity
Lacking elasticity, lacking a real knack for tragedy
And all is nothing without reality

Verse 3:
When I step in the booth the studio foundations shake loose
The walls never heard this level of truth
Two and a half years in the making, make of it what ya will
But I had to balance subject matter and skill
Something that for some is beyond comprehension
Achtung you posers hoping I don't mention
Mixtape showcasing style but substance-free
Hey, I guess there really is no more to thee
Save ya breath, save my eardrums, save the planet
We've dealt with ya brand and can't stand it
Braggadocio, the same game, the same flow
Different day, same shit, same fucking rodeo
Argh! Listen to the rave, the rant, the rage
The ramble rambling on, tolerance scant
The not-so-Phantom Menace in a field of tall poppies
And carbon copies, scalpel in hand ready for autopsies


Lyrics submitted by DarkSidePoet

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