Diss Illusion

Diss Illusion was written in September 2018 and has remained unreleased until now. It is perhaps one of the most critical pieces of literature the quill has ever bled. You see, it’s aimed solely at myself. It’s not every day that you discover the only true enemy you face is yours truly; as we tend to gloss over our own flaws and fixate on what others do to displease us. The following verse challenges such in the style of the good old-fashioned diss track. I am ever grateful to the people in my life for sticking by me while I slowly but surely figured this shit out. I stand before you today free of the ghost of my past for the first time since this haunting began back at childhood. We all have our demons but, with the unconditional love and support of those around us and a dash of self-reflection, we can break the chains that bind.

Listen to Suggested Audio

Rob Dougan “Clubbed To Death”

Stop! Impostor!
Don’t you move a muscle
Who the fuck are you attempting to hustle
Blindfolded and muzzled
Scrambling around
Trying to find the pieces of primeval puzzle
Mama said knock you out
Damn, she even passed me the brass knuckles

Not finding it easy to keep my nose clean and sail plain out of trouble
Every time I find some peace you’re the very first on scene to burst my bubble
Holding the deck with no hint how to shuffle
Breaking my neck to source cause to my struggles
Endorsing I dig them right out with a pickax and shovel
Dare not let on to the extent of my ruffles
Flexing my muscles, belt wrapped around knuckles and ready to brandish the buckle

One falsified move and I’ll slaughter the fuck out of you
Go to Fight Club on Tuesdays
And though I may seem dazed and confused
I am reasonably certain the first rule consists of fuck you
Cowardly chicken, my fingers you’re licking
They think it’s high time they pluck you
Just you keep on baiting and I shall make great haste in telling the whole goddamn nation what you do

Let’s talk some about accrued due
You’re the zealot refusing me credit instead of providing me conclusive proof
Editing out all the shit that bugs you
Replacing with abstract mistruth
Raising dispute, you pursue making slews that elude to my untutored youth
Like soap on a rope I then grope at the hope that my sharp words will find their way smooth

Been watching you close like a hawk
Will not see my plumage
Will not hear me squawk
The thing about you is you’re all fucking talk and the trousers ain’t fitting your shuffling walk
Cunning you may well be but maybe just maybe your laziness halts running torque
Kept hush long enough
I am calling your bluff
Call it tough love as I’m made of the stuff and I’m honest as fuck to a fault

Seemed to believe you would never get caught
While placing the mockers on every fraught thought
Scoffing each time I find rhyme in the reason to not play the odds as I’m just fine with evens
Truth sets us free
Yet only when sought

Stop! Impostor!
Don’t remember putting your name on the roster
Lost in the crowd as you keep your head down while you duck lady luck and accost her
How can I ever be expected to prosper
Informed there is nothing in the coffer left to offer
May make not a sound but I’ve figured you out and this china white devil is nowt if not devout
So how about we have this shit out
Right fucking now

I see the way you look at me
As you clench your southpaw and swing that left hook at me
Constantly pushing me over the edge
But I was bled on Rakim and know damn well my ledge
Hedging your bets on me taking the fall
For a brief moment there, it appeared a close call
A full forty-four stretch I have acted your fool
And you know what?
That one-party shit is not cool

Not to be bitter
You’re the critter from the shitter
If there’s one thing I abhor then it’s your brand of shit litter
Batting her up when you know not the pitcher
Stay away from the ball as this slipper don’t fit cha
Seven years of itching, twitching, missing tricks and bitching
I’ll take me ten more of bad luck no troubs as I smash the living fuck out of the mirror

Who’s the fucking fairest of them all now pal
Time to ring those changes, get to taking back some power
For way too long you have trespassed my turf
As cold as the froth of the rock-thrashing surf
No intention to stop ’til I’ve forgotten my own worth
So guess what, I am turfing you out
Not a saint’s hope in purgatory of working shit out

Was only a matter of time ’til I worked this shit out for myself
Not one for bitching and griping but this time you’re very much right
Doing so for my health
No kamikazes, not bombing with stealth
Got love for you Ems, but this time I’m with Kells
Rocking the bells as I know their tune well
This hard done by patsy has a story to tell
The man in the mirror is gonna get his face changed and it is gonna be gory as hell

Betcha weren’t aware that I roll with Chapel Black
The colors that I wear they make me glare like a jackal
Know how to spot me a snake in the grass
How to bake me a pie from bad apples
Let’s call a spade names, was never gonna last
Just had to polish off my glass of Jack Daniels

Any last breaths are purely contractual
In actual fact, I may watch as you choke
Preserve your tongue for reasons purely artifactual
Taking tokes, blowing smoke on your casual distractions
All talk and no action makes Jack a slack cracker
This keeper is steeped in a wealth of gray matter
I kept you chatting while my shadow placed hidden tracker
And right now, we can both smell your bowel getting slacker

Sick of it all
All the hardship and burden
You may make fine soap but you’re no Tyler Durden
The word on the street is you won’t last a round
Knocked clean off your feet before the death knell doth sound
Would love to say it’s been a gay time having you around
But actions have a knack for rapping louder
Make the most of your last move of unproven power
Then, how about you stay the fuck down