EPISODE · Dec 21, 2023 · 5 MIN

Tale Spin (featuring Forcefeeld of Top Choice Clique)

from #StoriesAboutSongs · host RedefineHipHop

7X3=21: Age 10, that’s when the training begins The brain and the pen blend for the chain of events I aim for the fence, tense, been the same every since Seen people get aligned with what they claim their against Pressure condensed, known to get blown into bits I’m known for my wits, prone to get deep as it gets Beneath the styx, mixed with the cheapest of tricks Relief is a myth, so back to the beat for my fix Force Feeld: Coming up in the late eighties, I was digging in the crates crazy And rap was the best outlet for my creative craving Music played in rotation daily With hot vocals poured on the top, like great tasting gravy Rappers stay afraid to face me Although I'm old-aged and married today, with great taste in ladies I'm like Reverend Run with great spaced laces You'll get first served on a case to case basis 7X3=21: Make statements, then take actions matched with the language My style is the strangest thing not even god could explain it Time couldn’t tame it, hidden in the pictures I painted A description, detailed image with inscription from Kemet Read it, adjust my limits, then I BECAME IT Magical ain’t it, the use of Top Choice cadence And with Force by my side, skills are essential Complex or simple, got styles for whatever you’re into it Force Feeld: We got many styles compiled, like an indoor mall crowd Standing in single file, for awhile Think of a long corridor or aisle, for a mile Then imagine more and more, picture forty-four miles Of rap evaluation, statistical evidence From math calculation and critical measurement Breaking boundaries, keeping inspiration 'round me A big Bob Marley spliff, or a plate of Jamaican brownies 7X3=21: Back forth with Force, get our point across And spin a tale, tooth and nail before the coin get tossed No time for chance, getting lost in minor flaws Mine or yours, no telling the effect it cause Lines are crossed, signs of the times exhaust Chaos, sampled from a vinyl source The final boss better have a taste for loss When facing off, focused like a racing horse With pace like Porsche, known to leave the pavement scorched A game of sorts, speaking figurative of course This god’s not norse, more the god particle type An author, I write, for the better part of my life Unite with the ‘Noble Knight’ to keep the ‘Scripture’ tight Claimed ‘Survival’ on arrival to the mic device…’Alright’ I gel with pen, blend like hell with sin Tell a friend, ‘Sing a Hymn’, and watch for the tale-spin Force Feeld: Tales make your right eyebrow curl You’d be really surprised at times, it’s a foul wild world Liars in positions of power desire the ball Send it spiraling out of control, bye to the ball As story tales circle or spin they whirlwind Real life breezes you by, it’s like real wind Heads turning, so many different correct versions Differences affect real friends and ex-girlfriends The next tale spin's about as close y’all get To another old drama flick or a soap opera script You got stats, nearly based upon false facts And conspiracy theories, clearly way beyond off track And the pressure makes you usually draw back To juice and cognac as a solution to solve that Then you fall back, if truth is proof, it’s hard to tell when It’s the real thing or is it chameleon, caught up in a tailspin