|
1. |
|
|
|
|
Going to hell in a hand basket with a casket of jewels
Fashion and fools? Surpass them with a passionate tool
Matter of fact these raps slap tracks and massacre troops
It’s like cats make tracks and never practice them through
Man, I do this for the head nods and that tap of your shoe
Give me the finish line and I’ll snap it in 2
What’s happening dude is nothing but miraculous groove
That I inhabit, sticking and moving from flax to the loom
Contaminate with gamma rays and make it rapid and smooth
And my biggest critic is the last to approve
And unless I rock shows, there isn’t cash in it duke
I dropped my pen on the floor and it splashed with a boom
The last of the few smashing up a passenger too
Too busy having fun to heed screeds babbling doom
Rose colored glass half full in a lavender room
Tossing a few asides to leave all the fragile consumed
And that’s true
Tactile tic tac toe
Rap and flip lactose
Tackling the tracks dope
Half will win and that’s so
Typical, and that’s the way it has to be
So pass the key…and that’s to me
You dig that? I’m a fan of the same.
Remember Raekwons tarantula chain?
I kick raps that ramble and maim, the man is a train
Wreck set to trample parades with mandibles crazed
From analyst ways to stampedes the stamp of approval is gained
Turning it to a brand abandon all of the claims
Living day to day while you’re balling away
You’ll get a stomach ache from eating all of cake
And all that takes is time and moderation like Satchel
Lest the world becomes reason for the Paxil
Closing in walls, all frozen grim maws clenched
Arguing far through it start doing top tens
Giving them a soft serve, nerves misplaced
Tournament interns burn the stakes
Turning away enough to make Saint Peter’s rack and pinion pivot
Imminent beginning to finish spin it all within a minute
Tactile tic tac toe
Rap and flip lactose
Tackling the tracks dope
Half will win and that’s so
Typical, And that’s the way it has to be
So pass the key…and that’s to me
I’m not a candidate for polling holding candlesticks verboten
Hoping glamour is a potent potion, amorous and chosen
Open hands and get a token, never know it just might work
Instead of looking of the product, man I’m check the price first
And rectify verse until the words fit properly
Recording takes with a verb flipped sloppily
One of the benefits of having a studio at home
Is that you can’t hear my mistakes when I roam
Each song’s generation has different tweaks
Varied approaches to visiting beats
if it’s wintertime, then I’m delivering heat
And if it’s dinner, I’m in a different street
So listen to each and make your own call on the song
It is dope, or fresh, or wack, or something soft for your mom
I’m Sankofa, happily hopping along to the drums
The dinosaur rapping with a fossil, his tongue
And that’s one.
Tactile tic tac toe
Rap and flip lactose
Tackling the tracks dope
Half will win and that’s so
Typical, And that’s the way it has to be
So pass the key…and that’s to me
|
|
2. |
|
|
|
|
I’ve been with kinfolk who Mad Max in tinted windows
So binge and mince those words, working in sin though
Limbs akimbo splayed down with another sprayed round
Graves lounge in grey ground, it’s just a day now
Blood spattered windshields exhibit how a grinch feels
Pimp slapped with wiper blades, type away the pimp reels
Swinging for the fences relentless forget an infield
Signature is vented stupendous invent a grim spiel
Kim Deal, breeding the demons indeed it’s been real
Collecting the digital juice, for proof got a gin meal
Grim zeal’s employed to destroy them with poison, shins heal
Hypodermic needles infected effective spin wheels
Spite’s a furnace earning minor vibing merchant skim seals
At his best a card shark can hope to raise a fin shield
Post traumatic addict caterwauling while his skin peels
Cannibal survival hides a bible biting skim meals
Sacred cow burger patrol
Making new beef the motif, murderous souls
Was it worth it, the gold? Doing dirt in the hole
New insertion insurgent circus, a circuit patrolled
Working the mold until it explodes
Ill is the mode, ventriloquist dumb dummy money filling commodes
Striking a militant pose before the iron on cools down
Fools lounge in pools stalking pretties with a drooled frown
And rules round these parts anonymous iconoclasts
Back stabbers using your blood to get your autograph
Anything to get a better rep stretch it on the map
Close shaves throw blades, cutters never thought of that
Sincerity practiced…Wizard of Oz
Is a façade, a vision arisen in glistening gauze
Lost listeners pause, waiting for approval
Going out on prosthetic limbs limping brutal
Gather round the campfire licking mega pixel flames
Smell the Seldom melting bedlam, with venom in its veins
A sentiment exclaimed with agendas all the same
Hunting and pecking order, more defendants to arraign
With a vengeance in the name of namelessness how insane this is
the laymen sit at plastic fortresses with a fatal wit
Remorseless with equipped quips armed to the decayed teeth
Talking points are just a winnowing way to debase speech
|
|
3. |
|
|
|
|
See I’m the kind of cat writing all types of raps
From old ladies in pink tights and funny biker hats
To providing the hype beat down saliva slaps
Sounds kind of mean, you’re going fry for that
Spare yourself dishes, put me in the fire first
And use the frying pan for your diaphragm ma’am
OOOH you’re going to burn for that there
I don’t care, turn up the thermostat, you scared?
I see, it’s paying those utility bills
A city destroyed, yet another village he builds
Ability kills, I need to be a millipede
Cause I’ve got more shoes than that lady from the Philippines
I’m lounging around with a rime in my mind
And a microphone perched right in front of my eyes
And there’s no work today and fresh beat arrived
So what better reason to makes tracks?
Throw a bleeding heart visa card deep inside your Cuisenart
See the making of a massive debt that’s the easy part
See this is me playing with words
Creating abrasions and burns
Debated from the bay to the burbs
Like Sinead with a swerve, I’m finagling verbs
Make your own genre, I’m enabling blurs
As the label kings serve curses protecting pyramid schemes
Assert purchases as you please
I’m lounging around with a rime in my mind
And a microphone perched right in front of my eyes
And there’s no work today and fresh beat arrived
So what better reason to makes tracks?
I mean, trust yourself
Simplicity is complicated
Lust it sells
Must develop stronger spines, is it all the soda pop
Sold out of Pony Boy’s loaded shop
cause these are the mics that I’m prone to rock
And most of my bragging is a load of crock
I’m a motorbike riding over tons of words
And now the prototype flow is like a Thunderbird
No Patron and ice owning my abundant work
Is a flow to make them sponge the earth, and that’s worth
Sort of more than a Duck, peace to Kevin, with his recent effort
Maybe he’s in heaven trailblazer ahoy poised and teaching lessons
I seek perfection with a pair of bandaged hands
Cause nobody ever made it without falling maaan
Listen, ammunition is a plan in action lights camera
Standing fast to mic manna, scan the sights and fly faster
Past the astronauts blasting Sebastian Bach,
Enact rap with with flat black kalashnikovs, got them backing off
I’m lounging around with a rime in my mind
And a microphone perched right in front of my eyes
And there’s no work today and fresh beat arrived
So what better reason to makes tracks?
Peeling away leaving vinyl sticker backs, ripping tracks
Sipping that Tang like I’m living vivid skinemax,
spin the wax back wicked with the raps, that’s different
Giving half-assed kids the jitters when I slap rhythm
That did it, minimum is vast crashing a tracks driven
stacking attacks with some laughter attached
Cause if it’s not fun then I cannot stun
The mic is my sun make breaks and tight drums
Mayday to light ones
|
|
4. |
|
|
|
|
Behold the ways of an alchemist
Turning a leaden phrase to maize with his algebra
Razor blade enabled traits amalgamate the script
Everything precise & thus the price to pay is this
I make it sick, proxy Munchausen lung dousing
Heart beat’s the sound of 1000 drums pounding
Some found it be a sort of useful outcome
The truth hurts, announcements sounded out have now stung
ultra marathoner teams could never out run
Playing Silkk The Shocker with a Plow pun, how fun
From Dow Jones, devout drones carouse with fresh flocks
Success’ road bestows depressives with a rest stop
I write on the line opposite to where they left off
Not to be contrarian, but wary in my next thought
Watch various scenarios aerial views
new moms and dads through to the burial blues, the track soothes
Maybe it better be live with Adrien75
Aid and abetting the vibe made it tremendous to thrive
My sentiments settle in setting off acetelyne torches, let it be stated
Man I’m in this fun
If you ‘re looking for a quote that might provoke war
Yeah, I won’t buy a pack but I will smoke yours
Violating agreements, my mind is aided with demons
Switch and baiting betamax maxims after rap proceedings
Good evening, I’m Stephen, your designated sore thumb
I put this stuff out for free to make it more fun
Cause pressing records is expensive and I lack the budget
So I bootleg myself leaving pirate types flustered
Each rime adjusted and calibrated to make them salivate
Balancing the maladjusted maladies and sour tastes
Now, at least an hour later a fresh track is manifested
And each time the track is played the worth of San is hefted
Examine the message, was a familiar stand taken?
Something to resonate with your soul and hold the plan sacred
Emancipating the antiquated ways of his youth
And recognizing those with props when praise, it is due
And that’s true
Maybe it better be live with Adrien75
Aid and abetting the vibe made it tremendous to thrive
My sentiments settle in setting off acetylene torches, let it be stated
Man I’m in this fun
And where he chooses to go is just a matter of fate
That and scattering the ashes of elaborate hate
Claiming a war won but every battle is lost
Names are old hubcaps, go on and rattle them off
Man, I’m brushing back the hungry batter who is crowding the plate
Souvenir appear to hear the loudest devoured to wraith
Dig deep enough, might find a blouse in the crate
This is 0-9, farewell 2008
Never drowning in the lake forsaking love for bitterness
If I want drama, man I’ll sit in a cinema
Been in a bit of groove of late but my computer is glitchy
So making new to me songs is suitably risky
But I can’t resist whenever a fresh beat rolls in
Call it a measured gamble ala handling devotion
The man is into boasting and then coasting on some random thoughts
Somewhere between Ebenezer and a Santa Claus
Maybe it better be live with Adrien75
Aid and abetting the vibe made it tremendous to thrive
My sentiments settle in setting off acetylene torches, let it be stated
Man I’m in this fun
|
|
5. |
|
|
|
|
Cats riding bikes to bars to be safe from DUIs
Seth calls it riding dirty, wordy and it’s seeming wise
No need to find fines for open containers
Open road and sidewalk cruising, folks that are neighbors
Soaked entertainers, it’s Eric Tarr in rare form
Dancing a jig, cutting the rug to bits, a fair warning
It’s half of E4 and probably Kopson from the Margin
4 hair styles for the price of one, a true bargain
Black hoodies uniform riding and it’s true to form
Presidential rolled cigars dampened in a humidor
You’ve been warned don’t say I didn’t tell you shoo the door
Leaving other riders sucking wind like a hookah slore
Moving forth at the speed of pedals pushed by low tops
Riding past the flashing lights from blue and whites, no cops
You know what? Seth popping wheelies makes the light gleam
Bat signal from his reclaimed ride, a slight beam
Projecting to the clouds, brutal now, it might seem
The beard is flawless, paragon of hygiene
Got the flavor of a reenactment for the civil war
WD40 sprays helps handlebars swivel more
You’ve got a plate of hate, the label takes a nickel core
Only way to ride smoother-rocking a seat with velour
And don’t think it hasn’t been considered, 4 seasons
And this is Indiana, Fort Wayne, all the more reason
To keep it practical, no lawyer fees and gas price crisis
No driver’s license, the bike niceness suffices
The titans of tightness, ride in the night swift, no night sticks
No license is required, pliers and some vice grips
Get a flat, it’s heading back home smarting for art fair
by far they’re better off than busters busting car’s spares
Going green by happenstance, river dancing rapper shams
So when you hear the rumble, no it’s not an avalanche
Potent mixed drinks slosh in Gatorade bottles
And when they made it home, man you know they make it with wobbles
aiming it awful, imitators may have just groveled, but take an ensemble
And what you get is far from fatal, you may make it a novel
Got a steak and a taco easy riders kings of the roadwork
Eric on his remade bike with slow turns
monster truckers and hummer pilots won’t learn
But that’s their loss when it’s time to filler up, right
Plus Mike with an R in the front of his name is cruising by
So keep your eyes peeled for riders, lest you lose an eye
No platform heel fish tanks to rank ‘em superfly
Take the stupid, sell them way low and nuke ‘em high
Oh yeah
|
A special shout out goes to Robin and Linda for scoring some sweet cover art source material on their last visit out east. Production on this doozy was handled by some familiar culprits (Ebro with "digitalis" and Geno on "what better reason") as well as some Music with Friends whippersnappers (adrien75 on both "tic tac toe" and "let it be stated" as well as Manic Depressive with "riding on"). The year was drawing to a close and I saw fit to compile some songs I'd enjoyed and thought folk might appreciate. As Rezin noted, it's been too long since I last released a MWF volume.
released December 15, 2009
