Zeus Returns

by Lewis Morris

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1.
02:21
Behold my reign of destruction… Triple H ’05 type shit. Ass wiping with the same hand I write with. Leapin’ Lenny Poffo with the poetry on frisbees. Throw em at your fuckin’ faces, as you’re asking, “yo, who is he?” It’s Lewis Morris, nigga. Back from exile. Getting back on the mic is like walking the green mile. All my former peeps sharpening pitchforks in the aisle. So, I got like three minutes and ten seconds before I die, so… Consider this my last will. Ate a fucking pop tart as my last meal. Couldn’t even toast it. Language always corrosive… I got battery acid for saliva. So, my spitting makes me a fire hazard to my listeners. Tone it down, and dilute the acid with some water. Now, I’m signable. Maybe start making some NPR rap, like macklemore minus the white and all the hits. Then I’ll move to an apartment in the sunken place with Chris. Fuck that shit, nigga. Take pride in my ugliness. Sketchy for life, fuck what you heard. No discussing it. Fresh outta fucks to give, I spent em all on scratch tickets to the chagrin of the misses. ILL equipped for this shit. This season of the heel turn. We are enemies. Steen with the pop-up power bomb, are you with me? Yeah…. Bear witness to my havoc as ya boy pushes his voice through the static. The noose I tried to hang myself with is now a neck tie. Resurrection of ZEUS. Got a pocketful of lightning as proof ready to shoot. Between my brain and loose lips, who owns the words the I speak? It’s like negotiating child custody. Fucking suddenly, I’m back to sleeping on my momma’s couch, while she watches Madea flicks, I’m steady plotting my way out. When it rains, it pours. Every comeuppance is a fortune. Feels like dwelling on fuck-shit is how I release endorphins. Uh…. Recognize my greatness. Nigga, I got no patience. I’m a fucking hater of fake shit. And, nigga kiss ass to grip cash, it’s more basic then white girls and pumpkin spice lattes. Let’s face it. Lord knows, they better hope that I’m never at the helm, cuz if I am, niggas are getting banished to the shadow realm. The ampersand, nigga. The 27th Letter. Ain’t none of you simpleton nigga do it better. DONE.
2.

credits

released November 9, 2017

Written by L. Morris
Produced by Lewis M.
Mixed/Mastered by Omega Filth
Recorded at Britt's Kitchen (Providence, RI)

Contains samples of:
Caravelli - Aquarius
Skull Snaps - It's a New Day

Audio clip from:
"Rick & Morty"

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about

Lewis Morris Providence, Rhode Island

Lewis M. is a boston-based (and Providence born) poet, beatmaker, and MC. He has performed at the Apollo Theater in NYC, The Smithsonian, among many other venues. His beats retain a refreshingly simplified approach to hip-hop production that harkens back to the boom-bap of the 90's while remaining fresh and new.

To inquire about purchasing beats, contact him at:
Lewis.Morris@flatlinepoetry.com
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