This CD is beautiful. Do you know why? It's because Shane Joines made some crazy artwork and then Chef Mike whipped it up in the graphic wizard kitchen and came up with the magicalness that is this CD. There are 50 CDs like this in the world, a handful have already gone to collaborators and folks on my mailing list who swooped it early, SO YOU'LL HAVE TO CLICK BELOW TO SEE HOW MANY ARE ACTUALLY AVAILABLE. I like being small, so you won't find me doing a repress. You want one? Get it! Got it? Good.
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Streaming + Download
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
110 percent is two hundred and twenty proof
Proof of life with the concept of what I’m blending through
Threw the game away, and saved it for a rainy day
I’m on deck, call me griptape maybe it’s the way to play
Trading quips with Macy Gray, Knicks fan that ixnayed
Pushed the envelope away that opened with a kriss blade
Provoke a quick hey, sitting at the doctor’s office
Biding time thankful for insurance when a lot are jobless
Promises are alibis, serpents in these callous times
Shout out to my man Tarek, family fled from Palestine
Phantom Memories whispering from Dungeons of Dooms
One and the same consummate the one to consume
A consummate professional whose drunken and swoons
Playing ball amidst the cosmos and I’m dunking the moon
The clan McCloud so there can only be one in this room
The trunks that are tombs, torched cars inside abandoned lots
Needle on the dental record, playing hits from man that’s lost
Famished lots draw straws but the drink is just mirage
Found the anger of the atheists who had cussed at gods
Adjust the box, fit within it, learn the corners well
Playing pin the tail on surveillance, no more lapels
The rage is simply something keeping the husk afloat
Lakes of gasoline an acid team, seeks to thrust the boat
The secrets trust in those who choose move when ground is lost
A bruiser’s blues with frozen veggies on his self-esteem
Who he was no longer who he is, a velvet spleen
Compelled to dream, but every fantasy has twisted ends
Spin the bottle, flip the cap to squads whose litmus trends
So ring that dinner bell until the clapper cracks the shell
No more liberty to find inside this lived in hell
Sick of infantile raps, nursery rhymes with ceramic floors
Debate the manticore, manic havoc the Manowar
Overflooded, making the morticians abandon morgues
Your flow is rubbish, flossing all of the things you can’t afford
tractor beam the phantom forge making a molten mess
Melting everything they’re holding sacred in a golden breath
Behold the wretch, the stock is locked, a barrel of smoked fish
Staying focused on my dreams, while it seems that most drift
A childish team riding shotgun on a ghost ship
So find the corn cob pipe of life and smoke this
Started following Juga-Naut upon hearing him break down life and rap relating to Kool G Rap on Crate808 and I've been a fan since. Wordplay, skill, the dope backdrops, what's not to love? Sankofa
