The beat is destroyed if your listening to this on a cellphone. 
Play over a stereo. 

Fast paced and in your face.

Lyrics: Corny rappers holes in the dome. 
No originality of Edgar Allen Poe. 
Cadavers crawl from caskets inside catacombs once I walk in the room. 
Knowledge to disperse the price is what it's worth. 
From the gutters we emerge. 
Blessed since birth, but grew up with a curse. 
Life can be a balance beam, doing your best to remain on your feet. 
Don't lose that key, no direction if the driver ain't ready. 
Killing with a craft condemned by current rap. 
Rain checks to riddle and vent. 
Patronizing with a pen, past points of agitation, beast beneath skin. 
Prospect, my position pile checks. 
Man Made's Rep spread the context.
Lost in labyrinth, Losing sanity with every footstep.
Follow while stumbling, struggling to catch a breath. 
Awake from dark dreams that occurred to be, 
more alive when I rose from sleep in my sheets sweating, 
wondering whats make believe. 

Caught in complicity. 
Search your jeans for presidents and pennies. 
Whatever it may be, just thankful it's free. 
Injected with mercury, an infinite murder spree. 
Mortal men act godly, hierarchy. 
Top of the food-chain where I be, flesh from the weak dangle from my teeth. 
Six feet of spleen hang you like a noose from a tree. 
Is this creativity or disgusting? 
Get kids fist pumping yelling the end is coming.
Pocket full of lead everybody's running. 
Voices inside constantly grunting. 
KILL THEM. 
The trigger needs to be squeezed in. 
Looking for a victim, violent intentions. 
The people are the weapons in this insurrection. 
I vent they venerate, understand my mind-state. 
Now awaken real late with a smile on my face,
ripped by razor-blades, halo's replaced at the pearly gates. 

HOW BOUT' WE
Proceed to the perplexity of my literary. 
Literally a dictionary. 
Some say it's unnecessary, but they haven't seen what's in the dome piece. 
The demographic is low key, with only a few following. 
But fuck fame and popularity. 
Popping a collar and pop in gold teeth. 
NOW REPEAT AFTER ME. 
(I'm cool too, I cash bowls and have tattoo's, with a mean crew and plenty of bad bitches will be coming through) SERIOUSLY?
We can't compete, it's a like a lion against a sheep. 
A BumbleBee boxing Muhammad Ali. 
Now believe me. 
I understand the relief of smoking weed, 
but why constantly talk about the need, 
is your vocabulary all green or are you trying to please this generation of teens? 
Music shouldn't be conformity, 
it should be your sense of being free. 
So think separately from the mainstream then finally the washed up raps will leave. 
It's time to clean the ears of society, supply meaning and imagery.
Then hopefully we can all see the beauty. 
DID HE JUST SAY BEAUTY? 
Or the Mc's will just shoot me. 
Whatever the case may be, take something from what I leave. 




Catacombs Prod. Jutup

 Enjoy and leave love then take downloads.



This High

A day and No life

Blackness, Sleeps The Soul

Street Grime

One raw and rough song that will surely shake your mind.
Featuring Carlos Lara (Karl)
Describing the dark side of some people. 



Labyrinth featuring Karl with a K

In order, we each lyrically release an atom bomb. 

SynnerS (Above,Abstrakt,Pd,Ob$cene)

My name, Manny Garcia. 
(MANdotE or Abstrakt)
Rapper. 
Drummer. 
Photographer.
ARTIST SUPPORT ARTIST. 
www.facebook.com/abstraktmusicMAN.E


AbstraktMANdotE

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