- published: 24 Oct 2011
- views: 1029
Pomace ( /ˈpʌməs/ PUM-əs), or marc (/ˈmɑrk/; from French marc [maʀ]), is the solid remains of grapes, olives, or other fruit after pressing for juice or oil. It contains the skins, pulp, seeds, and stems of the fruit.
Grape pomace has traditionally been used to produce pomace brandy (such as grappa or zivania) and grape seed oil. Today, it is mostly used as fodder or fertilizer.
“Pomace” is derived from the Latin “pomum” (fruit and fruit tree). The English were the first to use the term “pomace” to refer to the byproduct of cider production.
In the Middle Ages, pomace wine with a low alcohol content of three or four percent was widely available. This faux wine was made by adding water to pomace and then fermenting it. Generally, medieval wines were not fermented to dryness; consequently the pomace would retain some residual sugar after fermenting.
The Ancient Greeks and Romans used pomace to create a wine that later became known as piquette. This was an inferior wine that was normally given to slaves and common workers.
[E-Vocalist]
You gets no respect when you're live as a still-born fetus
A B you C this, to prove it, a D hits
The E is, restless, so F this, who's next to get reckless
God protects this, only Malcolm X is equal
when it comes to motivatin people
Cool but at times I pack a tool like ?
Sly as a fox when I slapbox like Zsa Zsa Gabor
or get me open and I'm hell like Pandora
Before words are spoken, the herb pinch my nerve
like a Vulcan, lobotomizing MC's, splittin brain cells open
I'm dope when I make feet tap, like I'm
Sammy Davis Jr. with a glass eye full of crack
The Natural, is smokin a party like Carlos Rossi
Not Mario Van P., but run with a _Posse_
As the world turns I leave MC's with third degree burns
Get around like germs, stompin turfs like pachyderms
Sweeter than the man who made Duran say "No mas"
Cash is earned _Here and Now_ like Luther Van-dross
but I never been greedy
Ten percent of all the cash that I earn goes to the needy
[Chorus]
[D-Wyze]
They can't catch my groove, on the mic I take fools to school
Batter up, D-Wyze ties the force into a knot, smooth
Now watch the boy linger
from the shit that I produce, hits like ass on your fingers
Get it? Before the bombs blow like C-4
Priority's the label, All City is the door, slammin
Hip-Hop niggaz never heard before (Yeah?)
And givin you more and more, so check it
Brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, don't even bother
The rapper's also yo, a fuckin barber
Figured if this shit don't work I gotta have somethin to
fall back on, but for now, I stand strong
Put on my black Chuck Timberland boots
Stepped over the suede strip so I can pick up the scoop
HEYYY, hard hittin kids get loose
All samples get cleared quick, cause this crew got juice
The, habitual liar is me
I get head from off of Manny while I watch Dynasty
while I write, I write rhymes every night
I'm so bad, for what I wrote I had to fight
You punk-ass, D-Wyze'll never lose my moves
I get filthy over Joe's tracks, you can't catch my groove