Ink From Rust

by Sankofa

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    10 flavorful Sankofa raps over John Stone beats.

    Philosophical forays brought to you by Kashal-Tee.
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Ras Kass 01:55
I was the clumsy kid studying the naturally gifted Imagination let me think that I actually lived it Jumping rope like I had cinderblocks for shoes They laughed at me. Back then I didn’t have a clue Ignorance is great, mom haircuts 'til 8th grade Now I’m 42 and bald haircuts with a razorblade Thanks for saying my set at the Rail made your day Something to think on those nights that I lay awake Can’t seem to fall back asleep, but why My life has pretty much anything a wish could provide The folks I rocked with in the local scene have moved on So now it’s a back to the booth, truth and nuance John Stone from the Prime Eights in Detroit went and gave me this beat Goodness gracious gravy, craziness sweet The day is complete I write to it, the doctor is in 5 cent type psychiatrist In my heart, 9 lions sit I admit that my mind can drift, but it needs to A lot more than these feet of mine will need shoes Apologies to the friends I never speak to I know how to reach you, yet I don’t. No excuses When we catch up, it’s like the time between didn’t exist Inside jokes, shared experiences grins at frivolousness Life is busy, but then again, whose isn’t? & every wrinkle in my life builds a new schism The friends I made through rap I consider some of the closest Kashal-Tee, JON?DOE, ognihs and RhymeWise can note this After Arthur was born, I stepped away, sold my mic Closed the chapter, but the book called me back, there’s more to write Ras Kass bootlegs, Chino on the Wake Up Long before Riiiot gave us hope that we could raise up Working graveyard in Mankato for the pay stub Before China was a place that I remained once Ras Kass bootlegs, Chino on the Wake Up Long before Riiiot gave us hope that we could raise up Working graveyard in Mankato for the pay stub Before China was a place that I remained once Money doesn’t grow on trees, but if it did We’d chop it down to pennies before a dollar could grow So go ahead and reap what you never sow A giant’s shoulders make for the best stepping stone, let it go
Deadstock 03:18
father son husband runner teacher shoe enthusiast Political letter writer too busy to use an uzi clip See, when my life becomes gloomiest I give a tip of the hat to the mighty Funkdoobiest We all have our cross to bear, check Leviticus No crucifix tattoos permitted in You’re a Christian and yet you shave your beard? You’re going to burn in hell for that, it’s a sin and it’s weird See he’s a heretic seeing his Sierra Mist sipping therapist Take care, that path there is perilous Here comes the crotch-grabbing Hostettler jersey rocking hotstepper Sipping nothing but the finest Doc Pepper I see protesters holding up Mercedes badges Give piece of German engineering a chance No dissing it, but I think they went and missed a bit These cats are sleeping like me when I pop in Mister Lif Odds are good I’ll hurt your feelings if we speak at length You’ll know exactly where I stand complete with reasoning Not down with the preach and cling, I was born to question things Blind faith is a voluntary deafening R Mike will tuck his shirt before I tuck a gun Your tough talk is overdone, I see you sucking thumbs You’re ding dong ditching it, I heard you cuss and run Fearing the repercussions of what your insipid little tongue has done Flying by the seat of your JNCOs, you need flows Claiming beast mode, you're sipping tea in a bistro Bad blood between us, call us Eazy E’s vein walls. Or Charlie Sheen for the whippernsnapper age y’all I cruise through the valley of death inside of a bulldozer Ready to flatten any wool they try to pull over Handcuffs freshly marinated in lamb’s blood Your whole team is chicken, it’s no wonder that your klan clucks Your ancestors came from the same place as everyones’ I’m handing you the simple truth over heavy drums But you don’t want to hear it 'cause you need friends Paranoid insecurity your chief blend I’m losing the battle of consumeristic warfare The names of shoes muttered under my breath, my Lord’s prayer For sure rare like the animal print with horse hair I call them scissor kicks, sharp, and I’m needing more pair A cut above the ones I wanted when I couldn’t afford them Even broke a promise to myself when I put on the Jordans The retro 3 Cyber Mondays in all black My sons play with the shoeboxes, making tall stacks Anthony Mason endorsing Adidas Streetballs One of the sickest handles, Pippen in a freefall The nano annacondas I got for 50 off The alligator waiting for a deal and then I grip and claw I love it, but it’s not a shrine cause I don’t pray to it Custom laced from the City Museum...Saint Louis Hypebeasts chill, keep your corny Yeezy packs They’ll be played out soon just like my CD racks
32 Kennebec 03:48
There was love inside your heart but it was a twisted virus you build a fantasy world and we were forced to live inside it. Mom with short hair, velour sweatshirt on my frame. A picture perfect pose but the feeling was strained. The longer you lived, the less of you that there was. Forget about forgiveness, I'm not holding a grudge. Let's a tip toe around the minefield of you. And force ourselves to take one more bite of your stew Lipstick as red as the blood that you drew. Killing them with kindness, yep you bludgeoned them too. A path through your house between boxes and bags. Growing from the walls and it was sad When you hit the hospital, mom and her brothers swooped by Rented a dumpster and threw away half the junk you’d acquired I only said I loved you, I never claimed to care Mom saw that I was born with armor, I came prepared Cause I’m a cold hearted soul chip off the old block type Mercurochrome reddened knees, hydrogen peroxide scattering your ashes on the beaches I once roamed Now 32 Kennebec’s a happier home Clipping coupons for the sake of saving bucks you’d never spend A tub of junk overflowing to the desperate end People’d think you ran an orphanage, well guess again Each passing year you lived, you lived it less a friend If I needed a toothbrush, I could always hit up Long Beach God knows, you had about 200, c’mon geez Remember the promise I’d get the '64 Falcon Of course you didn’t, it’s disappearance was the outcome Taking a bite of your Christmas chocolate and I tasted bleach Must’ve stored it in your laundry for years, days, and weeks A nasty nod to your habit of keeping everything The great depression left you clutching onto any petty thing You’d send clippings from stuff you thought that I’d like It went from the mailbox straight to the dumpster that night To be fair, you probably needed meds and intensive therapy Instead you took it out on your fam and left them all scared to breathe You played chess with family members your pawns Pretty sure you had a pair of shoes of moms that were bronzed The actress with an audience taught to listen and watch closely Applauding every line you ever uttered with most grief Granddad’s escape from you was his rose garden That was his world that let him fold in every margin You were the first person to teach me that a smile could lie False sincerity, laid on thick and you piled it high So I don’t sweat the passive aggressive, no way I do I was trained by the best, ‘cause I was trained by you You used the threat of skin cancer to steal granddad’s solace No more growing roses, you trapped him, the plan flawless He got to escape by being the first to die, resting in peace I got to visit before all the stroke and the sleep Basically, you were dead to me before you even passed Life's too short to drink poison straight from the glass
I’m the resident cynic sitting atop of throne of acidic trash Hatching a bitter batch of rap, so let the timid pass Inspiration faded, return to the confines of the complacent Pens full, the page blank, Declare my soul vacant The ache of trying to be patient Mightily waging war with a world that couldn’t care less Stress builds and the ones I love become the targets Blood pressure climbs please don’t let me once again succumb to this darkness The harbinger of heartless, I march to the cliff and pass it by Swiftly charging in the abyss voiceless scream, glassy eyes Just another human self-destruct button with lips tightly zipped shut Not even the man of steel can resist rust And heroic doesn’t even begin to describe the opposite path Playing poker with sympathy cards, dad was lost in the past Get over it, over and over and over again Prone to pretend I lost hope in my lone moment of Zen Do I know it’s pretend, or have faith and hold fast? Steel jaw, iron lung, soul glass downcast, 13th stone for the most loved Figment or fragment, for real I swear the ghost was I felt the chill but dare not turn around Take the thoughts and burn them down in the fertile ground I heard a sound It never happened, never could have and never was Settle for pretending with a level of etceteras A pathway these feet of mine did never tread enough A crimson feather for the heart that I had left to rust My paper is Gus Fring’s profit margin, chickenscratch Getting up to speed with a wicked batch of vivid rap I feel like Dusty Neal in a world of verbal prison tats Participants pretend to listen just to spit it back They’re ruling our entire world based on minute math Claiming mastery minus thought because they didn’t ask I split in half with callous laughter after given trash A vicious act, fly the black flag high on the mizzen mast I grip the craft’s psyche tightly with a griffin’s grasp So sick of sycophantic tandem banter, slick and fad I don’t visit rap, I live with it and pick the scab Watch it bleed profusely til the page becomes a crimson gash A rhythmic path to follow, steps become a chisel’s tap Chipping away until what remains betrays a simple task A rhythmic path to follow, steps become a chisel’s tap Chipping away until what remains betrays a simple task
I was bumping DMC in the Walkman, replaying it hastily. The fact is, none of this new rap was even made for me. Is it wack to me? Absolutely, but why is it? I spend time with this craft, inviolate rhyme scientist. That drug-addled mumblecore rap that's dope to them. I wish that style had choked within its own fallopians. So when I listen for the music that the people listen to. It's pretty difficult to find myself not in a dissing mood. So I'm a gatekeeper to a damn near graveyard. That headstone's got Big Daddy Kane's name carved. He still kills live and I've got the same goals man. You hold weight? I hold sand in these old hands. Invoking the names of predecessors helps to keep me moving. plus revisiting their classic tracks is deeply soothing From P to Ewing with Aloysius inside of the middle Every time I hear the latest, I feel my soul die a little. MOP with G Rap On the guest spot. Still helps to keep me going till that motor in my chest stops. A delegate from a country long slipped away. Let the death knell reverberate within a ricochet. Forget a JPEG my EP had a J card. Back in the days when real audio was on the radar. Dig find listen sample chop and repeat. John Stone and Sankofa stomp with confident speech.
Stop complaining that my rap is morbid. We live in a world where they suck your blood and give you cash for it. And soldiers in Vegas play with radio controlled planes. Leaving countless amounts of innocent citizens maimed. It's sick, a cyclical stain twisting the brain. Long as it isn't you getting done, it isn't a shame. But wait, what happens when it's your house on the monitor? And the screen goes black they found your mom and now Obama's bombing her. If it isn't on the news, it doesn't exist. Plus that crotch grabbing habit having man and the myth. That famous quarterback who doesn't stay in his place. Border vigilantes making sure no aliens safe. Open carry's cool. Well, as long as you're white. Because black kids with toy guns are getting killed tonight. We've got poverty and climbing crime rates, where they come from? Slums are industries moved overseas for the lump sums. Disposable workers who are schlepping just to rent a pit. CEOs don't care, cause they got benefits and Severance. So if they do a bad job, no prob, pay them off. A golden parachute for that failure of a boss. I can’t decide if I’m a cynic or an optimist There’s a track I’m content with, but am I locked in it What kind of difference can a single person make How much is compromised to reach a powerful place candidates the people feel are cut off at the knees. By the same who claim to represent the people and their needs. My sons have the best security blanket it's called white skin. They don't have to be as frightened when they see those lights spin. Far as girls, society's expectations are ridiculous. standards made to strangle spirit and quicklydiminish it. try fighting your whole life and never letting your guard down. That stranger in the shadow making your heart pound Easy targets, dressing for it, blame the victim season One giant leap for mankind, but see the witch was scheming If they drown, they’re innocent, let’s find the riverside No more yoga pants wearing, get them timid, right Religious freedom slogan, chanted by a bigot The bill of rights is overrated, see the road is rigid I’m on the highway to heaven with the blessing of god And if you don’t believe me, then I’m spoiling the rod Spare the child, watch the bathroom, set the diver free Let the infighting commence, begin the rivalry Keep track of the news’ shift to entertainment See what happens when the viral videos are center staging
This little piggie's wrapped in a blanket of bills. Anything to make marketing and banking a thrill Makes his junk bond bigger and seem more impressive Snout down in the trough, insert the pork for reference Compassion's for the weak, see the predator arrive Keep the klieg lights at bay, he looks better in the night Nothing’s more attractive than a sow's offspring Forbidden fruit from the loins of a loud lost king We can count on those stubs to deliver us from evil, right? Kardashian apprenticeship reality we deify Powerful enough to destroy the toys the parties built Princess and a pee soaked mattress from a Barbie spill Thick headed with thin skin the combo God’s favorite white headed son is Tonto Who needs a platform, slap a slogan on a hat Repeat the slogan to the loser people choking on the facts Daddy got himself some Presidential kid gloves Plus some gadget arms to help him when he zips up 10 Vienna sausages sending out tweets Vibram five finger speech for the toddler peeps, Got a sweet inheritance, let's see what he does Now Obama plays his daddy and hands him the bucks A sandbox with real live soldiers to get killed Launch codes on standby, seeking the next thrill A live audience lapping up on the news feed Everybody likes a bit of blood in their milk, it's true glee Being the boss is great, delegate power to his son in law Keep in the family values, now you see he runs it all Drain the swamp, sell the Brawndo to the thirstiest Electrolytes are what plants crave to ease their nervousness Cabinet members stay busy helping sell the urban myth Watch for all the killers hiding with turbans and burkhas kid Got a plan to Build a wall, kill them all, and get rich It'll trickle down to you with a spritz of his spit Can you taste the trace of champagne within the man's spray? He'll sell you something made in China, bet you can't wait. He's the Chester Cheeto golden calf, watch for how holds a map Mad magazine back cover folded, scroll it back Alfred E. Neuman the next guy for his cabinet Testify to the wrath of a lie so elaborate Calls his latest wife Rango see the modeling shots? This moment brought to you by the enhancements she got Trophy wife number 3 cause his daughter was spoken for Let’s visit Taiwan, try to go provoke a war Won the title, but the belt is inconvenient And can’t understand comedy of comedians Clearly, got an axe to grind with Mister Perfect here Purse the lips, spray the hair, dye the skin and persevere Adulterer appearing with church leaders for pics Morality reigns supreme, indeed it’s seeming legit Nevermind scope, we’ve got 140 characters And a red hat to remind us why we decided to try this Knock knock. Who's there? Trump. Trump who? Knock knock. Who's there? Trump. Trump who? Knock knock. Who's there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn't say Trump?
Ready Set, here comes the Domineer Ready to bomb your ears, embalm syllable stomp them going on for years Appearing out of the cannon smoke, Pulitzer prize, no bullets to fly Yet you understand that the man is dope Hands explode trying to hold my pen and loose leaf Better walk away, you’re Bruce Lee with two teeth No chance to chew beef, pursue peace Through these Fort Wayne avenues and streets I gather true speed Breathing heavy like the burden of bringing it back is mine No sermonizing I’m too busy doing to pose for shine Either lead by example or shut your trap man Leaving the wicked eclipsed, drop your baubles in an afghan kicking the slickest of gifts, lickety split, this is it Lindenwood’s got some great spots for you visit and bit My city equipped with obsidian nights to run through Just the same way I do with every wall I’ve come to Digging ditches, since coffins had gotten bothersome A head bopping son of supernova with lava lungs Make you buy a Walkman, foam padded headphones Walking through the dead of night, hoping to get home This is the sound of all your dreams dying man That pitiful wheezing noise coming straight out of your diaphragm The frying pan into the fire of a flamethrower Chase it down with a napalm shot, the game’s over No blade toting my lethal weapon’s my mind Flashing back to Ice-T before the Game had Survived Rutger Hauer Gary Busey level rap craziness Impact 80 of these cats in your wack radius Activate the jet pack, blast off to the next stop You’re best off leaving the planet, planning a test launch A deft taunt tarantula tangent to navigate I’ll raise the bar so high the blood in your veins will evaporate And then I’ll fold you up and ship you with the Wack Stanleys Except for the ones I set free because they have families My siren’s call a simple hi hat with a cymbal crash Cat of nine tails, 90 lashes slashing skin in half Terrorist rapper? More like Meredith Baxter Trade the Birney for Barney we’ve got your purple to party You’re the Diane Keaton of Palestinian scarves Posing like you’re hard and living within oblivion’s arc I’m not buying it, man, your album or the image The more time you spend away from the porch, the more that you’re diminished A gravel gargling Gargamel trying to sound tough guy Bring the clipper to your chins, time to let the fuzz fly A true pugilist would never be a sucker puncher Shout to all the kids you scare with your puckered thunder hiding under covers protects you from his bullet raps no Kevlar colostomy because he’s full of that go ahead chant along to his nonsense straight Code Red game fuel rap song blends slouching at the stoop, see his pose, see the clothes Working at the gas station between his European shows
Lazily 04:33
When I’m on a roll, it feels I’m spilling with skill to spare I’ll record a track to put inside of your kid’s build a bear Don’t worry, most of my material is fairly appropropriate Though you may find some reference to Soviet Mobius opiates So be it, recorded a song with my man Kashal-Tee and Seron They ask what planet I’m from, they may say he’s from Geelong Holy Cross hospital, 1974 to be precise Transformed Susan and Richard to mom and dad from a husband and wife I used to call my dad Mommy Sue and he didn’t like it much Way before I heard rap or even had a mic to clutch They say times are tough, I watch multiplication tables Just the way my mind works lazily making it graceful I moved to California to work on rap stuff with a couple dudes Spontaneous and JON?DOE, Double Helix was the group DNA-lysis was the album they poured thousands of dollars into And for nostalgia’s sake I’m going to give you the word Ginsu I don’t need a freaking weapon To sneak up on when you least expect it like the effects of a legal decongestant You preach a message of greed, but you can have it Pick my sons up when work is done and maneuver through the traffic I hone a tactical rap until it chin checks an insect at forty clicks Don’t know exactly what it means, sure sounds glorious Needing more goriness? Peruse my earlier angrier works Haranguing the earth with murderous slang in a hearse, serpent interpreter, a body jerks Yep, that’s about it with a considerably harsher vocal tone Nowadays, I scour Costco, trying to sample Toblerones I’m from a time where Matchbox cars were made in Macau I’m like the 13th angel, man I simply came to get down I see what was and know what is and where I stand is in my shoes And if you’re not feeling it, fine, it wasn’t for you I'm not much for guzzling brew, the Doctor is my go to I could roast most folks with a quote, but I’m trying to find my Roku Remote dude, Walter must have taken it and hidden it If only Arthur would have put out of reach, consider this Soon enough his little brother will move his high chair to climb there Sporting a 6 toothed grin to blind you with the glare Practice makes perfect, but Allen Iverson was superdope An easy tidbit for my hanging with Mister Cooper hooper folk Two can play the game, but only one can win it, ask Stallone If you wanted a mobile call, 20 pounds was half a phone My road rage is intense, Joel Frieders seeing a pot hole And I’m the type to dig cheese like that bad guy from the Boxtrolls I’ll eat that wheel of brie that you’ve got on your shelf’ So uh…just let introduce myself My name is…varied depending on where we first met Rap, work, college, high school, and yep I’ve got a different one for each, but it’s still pretty much the same guy Though I tend to sweat more than usual when under the stage lights It’s like calling Ron Dayne LeBron James, the wrong game As for pie, I’ll take what you’ve got. You think pecan’s lame? I declare it’s Bombay, son of the heat that showered Pompeii, but okay That just means there's more for me, storming enormous eats
Thanks to all the people who have overseen my undertakings The ones who listened to me even when my tongue was aching My enthusiasm is an adrenaline Hypodermic and it’s not always a medicine I get excited to the point of being meddlesome I’ve got an ill design, can you help with me the rendering? Got some songs planned but I never made beats If you have some spares, would you please slide them to me? I've got a plan for another awesome music video But no camera, can you help me make the image grow? Can't forget the people who made up all of the shows Whether booking or call and response, man you made it so It's true what they say, cause you can never go home But I wasn't homesick when I started to roam. Have you considered the plans of a man babbling? Never stops talking, but you can’t quite fathom them Me in a nutshell, overly excited Cause when I find a rhyme, you know I’m going to write it It’s all righteous and right with the world when the muse is here And if I’m lucky, I leave an album for a souvenir So Ink from Rust is the name of this one Shout to all who made it possible, and now it is done Sober Pete, EDS, Rolando Green, Jay Ehrmann, Mark Lahey, old5andDimeSignCompany, ADI, Matthew Plett, Bambi, Joel Faurote, Greg Locke, John Hartman, Jeremiah Miser, Luc Carter, ognihs, Manic Depressive, el Keter, Purify, Agent Orange, Adrien75, Tack Fu, FANGFACE, Almighty, Ear Max, Geno, DJ Erase, Judge, Artur Hawking, Cris Cardiak, John Stone, Moss, J Dankworth, the Moth, DJ Emm Are, Flyphonic, Dr. Rhinewhistler, DJ Large, Enoch Root, Orphan, Joe Harvey, actuel, Brenn Beck, Left Lane Cruiser, D. Gary, I Wombat, Scott Matelic, Ebro, Samix, JON?DOE, Kashal-Tee, AthenA, Spon, Noah23, CunninLynguists, Infinite Cycle, RhymeWise37, Seron, ADRU THE MISPHIT, Nick Sweepah, icon the Mic King, Ryan Officer, Styxxoplix, Agape, Jake and Jes Farris, Glide, Bo from Bravas, Jerrod Tobias, Jason Rowland, The Brass Rail, Hometown Hooligans, Dave Pagan, FWFAC, Jojo, Kate Wolfson, Nate Utesch, Kan-tis, King, Breon Warwick, TJ, Little Brother Radio, One Lucky Guitar, Middle Waves Without all of you it’s just me Without all of you it’s just me Without all of you it’s just me Thank you. Society of NIMH!


This project was fueled by Middle Waves


released March 18, 2017

Produced by John Stone, mixed and arranged by Ross Johnstone and Cody Morales at Soundproof Multimedia.

John Stone appears courtesy of Shadow Creek Entertainment (all Rights reserved).

Thoughts of Kash appear c/o Kashal-Tee in conjunction with Bice Corve Entertainment.

Artwork by Greg W. Locke.


all rights reserved



Sankofa Fort Wayne

My rhymes kick in like a turbobooster.

Fort Wayne.

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