How many times I
gotta tell a nigga, go read da OZONE / This mag’s been in mad palms rockin’ ice
frostier than snow cones / 50 pages, mad pics, you might catch ya fam’s faces /
Articles for days, kid, phatter than most Adidas laces / Word on da street, I
heard tha publisher’s tha most hated / Whyte gurl in a colored world and still
touches ya block rated / Only mag in Orlando tryin’ to showcase Mickey’s natives
/ Not even a dollar out ya pocket, so go cop it, stop waitin’ / Full size so
niggas wit’ sick eyes can’t escape this / Monotonous life made ten times better
with all this rainin’ / C’mon, name it, name anotha publication givin’ you some
real shit / Or look to the sky and realize that this mag ain’t in trainin’ / For
real, keep flippin’ through an tell ya boys bout tha hotness / Real street,
official magazine, not ya average fake shit like tha Lochness / Remember the
name, not Orlando Source, nah man, the OZONE / And to them other cats tryin’,
don’t you know it’s illegal to clone? - Tony Ransom
Most of ya’ll cats don’t know me yet but
will soon / Me in a box with Orlando’s nicest is nothing but kill room / Flow
audio, visual, and my text is liver / My spit sells Coke to Pepsi drivers / My
dopest shit is exlax and cocaine, you no brains is whoopee cushions Pass chicks
V8 after mad dick cuz they walking crooked / Deuce Logic the livest emcee
walking on seven continents / The most profound pro found to throw down vowels
and consonants / You screamin who wants this, too late already took / The
earthquake was yesterday, dunny, you already shook / Word born I’m givin’ the
cold shoulder to any demons who think hot / Comin’ at Indie Jones is rushin’
into a gunfight with a slingshot / Niggas assed out like the fullest moon / Ya
guntalk get you shot so quick you die without bullet wounds / So we can dead
beef like a Biggie shoutout to Tupac / Or do the math and admit the fact you
ain’t got half the skills that Deuce got. -
Deuce Logic from the Indie Jones Camp, Sinista16@hotmail.com
You got a pen my friend / I need it
right now / I got some thoughts I wanna write down / Catch me on the night hound
teaching one lesson / Never pull weapons lesson two unless you have / To blast
through half my crew / The other half will laugh at you / Half Mad throwing jabs
at you / Direct hits to your aptitude / I heard you calling radio stations and
acting rude / Excuse me, pass the doobie / I gotta get the fuck outta here and
go shoot this movie / Gotta be clever to be Nevah / You can’t fuck with the
Realm Z camp or be better / We them kids who rock leathers with ostrich feathers
/ Raining on your sector in good weather / That’s right we better you heard it
first / The shit on the radio’s the worst / It’s time that a real MC comes first
/ I know you feel the truth, and it hurts / Your bubble burst and blood
splatters on your shirt / Splatters on your skirt, bitch MCs I hear you live
empty! - Nevahdless of Half Mad Poets / Realm
Z, nevahdless@realm-z.com
Hit ‘em in the ass with a blast of
hellfire / Spark ya lighter / To burn down my kingdom you need fire / Call me
sire / Emcee most higher with eyes lower / Mad as a cobra / Chocolate like mocha
/ Romello Skuggs run with thugs / Tims never Lugs ordain my feet / Illa speech
foreva to reach the younga genes / Red beams from red eyes search out the lies /
Blood ties burn up the mic with ultra violet let me explain / Niggas get drained
like o-shit son before you get hit with size ten / Make ‘em bend like rulers /
School weaker emcees / Hang ‘em from a tree by my Timberland boot strings / One
thing / Most cats is wick-wick-wack / Break backs free chiropractic stack like
flap-jacks / Jack the rapper if he wanna talk back / Slap hish ass and jet with
the cash out the back / Don like mac / Mild like black / Hit like zap / Snap
like naps / This Kool G’s rap is pure phat / Cock the strap / Boom then bap you
heard that / Like breaking necks by using the rack we lay you flat.
– Sevensees, UlyssesSeven@aol.com
Compiled by
Julia Beverly and illustrated by
Jemal McClary