Steven

A D the Great Carson

Slick Nick

samcro

"[1: A.D. Carson]
It’s the anti—everything that you believe you stand for.
Cancer that a man stores in his hands for
laying ‘em on parishioners wishing for some malignance.
I’m really just saying what I’m writing is sickening. 
What I’m writing is vision. 
What I’m writing is healing.
What I’m writing is flashes of lightning across the ceiling.
Flames from the floor, flickering, licking your feet to move you, 
fool you into believing that when you move, it’s the true you.
Voodoo dance from dude whose hands expand reality. 
Puppeteering, but from what you’re hearing, you do it naturally. 
And actually I’m to blame for it all—
I’m the reason, even your breathing—if you rise or you fall.
They said Hip-Hop’s dead. I said it must be a joke, 
‘cause if it’s really the truth that means I fuck with the ghost.
And I ain’t—above believing in what people don’t see, 
but I can’t—believe in it if don’t believe in me, 
so where are you? 

[2: Bad Dreams]
It’s that long night sleep tight now that you think you woke up 
Soaking in your psychosis I’m dosing you with the donuts  
You wading into them rivers just wishing for this deliverance  
You floating in them oceans and just hoping for your atonement
Cooking up something frozen
Cooling off the commotion
What I quote is drums invoking tongues of the chosen 
Black Rhapsodies Rap tapestries get woven 
Bodies contorted jerking the circle is never broken 
Like the slave embracing godliness, embrace the bodiless
Authorship beyond consciousness that’s where the party is 
Burn Down the plantation regardless
The ghosts told me never the fear the darkness 
that’s where the realest part is
They said the blues is dead I said it must be a joke 
Amiri Baraka handed me some smoke and I just took a toke 
And I ain’t above believing in what people don’t see 
I believe in ya’ll even when ya’ll don’t believe me 
So who are you? 


[3: A.D. Carson]
God bless the child that can hold it in. 
Believe…enemies bleed when I hold my pen. 
Let these words be the first to my unborn seeds
so they hear the voice of God clear—blast for me, 
blast for your you, and those who come after you.
Keep your peace, until they make you have to use it—
have to lose it—clear choice: after music 
comes the fall. So, really, what I’m doing’s for y’all. 
But you’ll never know the truth, never see it for self,
never believe ‘cause you can’t understand it, or else
have it chewed and spewed back at you, pick it up and endorse it,
then you’ll support it, get it to fit. If it don’t, then you’ll force it. 
They say my people are dead. I said it must be a joke, 
‘cause if that’s really the truth that means I’m talking to ghosts.
And I ain’t—above believing in what people don’t see, 
but I can’t—believe in it if don’t believe in me, 
so what are you?" 



Talking To Ghosts feat. Bad Dreams [Prod. by Preme]

NEW Music from AZ produced by BabyPaul/BpZy - Beat Fanatik

Mixed by David Sisko @ MinMax Studios, NYC

@QuietAZmoney on Twitter and Instagram

For Bookings Contact - Booking@Clockwork-Music.com

AZ "Red Magic" (prod. by BabyPaul/BpZy & Beat Fanatik)

“Ragtime Hightimes” CD + Vinyl: https://naturesoundsmusic.com/product-category/camplo/
“Ragtime Hightimes” on iTunes / Apple Music: https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/id985407523
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“Ragtime Hightimes” on Amazon: https://amazon.com/dp/B00XMB71OC/
“Ragtime Hightimes” on Google: https://play.google.com/store/music/album/Camp_Lo_Ragtime_Hightimes?id=Bazcsueyhu24so5i3dn5vsq3g2u
“Ragtime Hightimes” on Tidal: https://listen.tidal.com/album/45495737

Legendary Bronx-bred hip hop duo Camp Lo is back with "X Seminar", produced by longtime collaborator Ski Beatz.  The new Camp Lo album "Ragtime Hightimes" is now available worldwide.

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYHM3CJnpwI

Ragtime Hightimes

Camp Lo - Cold Retarded (prod. Ski Beatz)

The New Single our E.P (Vintage) produced by Jay Dee aka J Dilla

We On Feat Kam Corvet Produced by Jay Dee aka J Dilla

Remember  Dirty

"Introducing" is a track off the DEPHACATION album produced by Phoniks featuring Dephlow. This record is one hip-hop purists and sports lovers will stagger from after interpreting the metaphors and double entendres embedded in the lyrics from Dephlow. Phoniks (as usual) produces a banger on this one that is sure to have people replaying it over and over again just to break it down. 
 
Buy the album on iTunes! 
https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/dephacation-prod.-phoniks/id868637472
 
VINYL IS IN EXTREMELY LIMTED STOCK AND AVAILABLE NOW.

USA/CANADA CUSTOMERS CAN ORDER FROM HERE: dephacation.bandcamp.com/
EVERYONE ELSE: sergentrecords.bigcartel.com/product/sr…by-phoniks

Awon
facebook.com/awonofficial
twitter.com/awon1988
@awon

Dephlow
twitter.com/dephlow
@dephlow-the-drummer

Phoniks
facebook.com/phoniksbeats
twitter.com/hookedonphonikz
@phoniksbeats

https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/dephacation-prod.-phoniks/id868637472
Customer Reviews
This album is straight fire!  
     
by Infamous OG
Phoniks went and did it again with some of the dopest beats i've heard in a while! Awon and Dephlow prove that they got next in the game!

Stop What You’re Doing...  
     
by The Witty 1ne
…if you don’t have this album. Support this movement and experience a feeling you haven’t had in a while from hip-hop. 

This is EXACTLY what hip-hop could use to pump some life into itself. These cats seem to take their craft seriously and compliment each other like they’ve been doing this for a while. You’re gonna finally find some use for that rewind button with this one.

...More
Hip Hop has Returned!  
     
by L.G. Studios
CLASSIC.....enough said!!!

Awon & Dephlow - "Introducing" Dephacation Album (Prod. Phoniks)

The site of “the most exciting 25 seconds in college football”
was made possible by profits from the most shameful centuries in America’s history,
but come to the campus of Clemson University,
and you’d hardly be able to tell it from looking around. [i]

Solid Orange, you’ll see. [ii]

The grounds are perfectly manicured—alluring—
and monuments to the greatness that creates such institutions
stand as reminders from whence we came,
and since we gain so much from what we see,
we smile,
proud of the great tradition of which we have the benefit of saying we are now a part.

Solid Orange, we are.

And it’s easy to buy in—
it starts with “The Song that Shakes the Southland”
and a sea of solid orange—‘Tiger Rags’ that kind of grab you and say,

“You are now a member of this family!
You are now a Clemson Tiger.
Wear your orange proudly.”

but
it’s a pretty well known fact that tigers have stripes,
and almost as well known is the reason they do,
yet, Clemson University—home of the Tigers—
doesn’t do much acknowledging of
those dark marks it knows to be so integral a part
of its existence.

“Solid Orange,” we say…

at this university that was once a plantation,
slavery being “a positive good” according to Master Calhoun,
whose house sits, still,
on a plot atop a hill
overlooking the football field
—open seven days a week,
and I can even enter through the front door.

What I cannot do, however, is depend on the tour guide to give me the whole history
of the foundations of my university, because—
for some reason or another—
it’s uncomfortable for some people to talk about
slave owners, supremacists and segregationists on those terms,

or

it’s unknown to the individual responsible
for the dissemination of that information
about this place,
but

twenty score
and many more years ago
our forefathers brought forth on this continent
our forefathers and our foremothers
and exploited them for hundreds of years,
which led to our being
conceived in captivity
and “dedicated to the proposition”
that history is a matter
of telling the story that makes us look best.

“Solid Orange,” I think,

and that forces me to confront my active participation in
not only the crime, but the cover-up—
the whitewashing, with orange, of the dark parts of a
history meant to be instructional, lest we repeat it,

and
I repeatedly walk past the
Strom Thurmond Institute of Government and Public Affairs
and wonder, “Was it there that our ancestors were whipped?”
Because it happened.

Slavery was big business,
and
being black meant
you made profits to keep your master in the black,
and
if the master went into the red,
he’d see red and you’d be likely to wear
red stripes across your back—

fact.

And if that
is an uncomfortable truth for the institution, so be it.
These are the stripes we bear,

so see them.

Slavery, sharecropping and convict labor
paved the streets and sidewalks of this “high seminary of learning,”
and earning a degree from here tethers me to the legacy of that
and John C. Calhoun, Strom Thurmond, Thomas Green Clemson and
“Pitchfork” Ben Tillman, who,
with his henchmen, killed black members of a militia,
never to be convicted, but elected to public office—Governor—
to have statues and buildings erected in his honor, eventually. [iii]

The one on this beautiful campus houses the Calhoun Honors College
and the School of Education.

So be it, if it’s uncomfortable to bear those stripes.

See them,

because it’s not uncomfortable to reap the benefits of the labor that went into
building the buildings or tending the land,
but very much so
knowing the buildings and the land are stained with
years upon years of
the blood, sweat and tears
of slaves and sharecroppers and so-called criminals
who were lent to the institution to do the work that needed doing.

“Solid Orange,” they say.

And I say
The Tiger cannot survive without its stripes.

We cannot ignore
the troubling history that brought us to this,
our glorious institution,
with its memorials and monuments to “honorable” men,
and call ourselves a family.

And we’re damned if we think we’re doing ourselves any favors
coloring the history one hue.

One you,
one me,
one he,
one she,
one them,
won’t be
one us
‘til we strive to
see those stripes

The Tiger cannot survive without them.

The site of “the most exciting 25 seconds in college football”
was made possible by profits from the most shameful centuries in America’s history.

Those are the stripes we bear,
and before you decide to wear
that orange tee, or that painted paw,
think,
for a moment, about those stripes,
think
of the backs of the slaves,
think
about the strips of land,
and the sharecroppers tied to it after so-called emancipation,
think
of the uniform of that 13 year old boy ,
a slave of the state,
forced to help build the first buildings at this place, [iv]
think
of the dark matters that matter more than you know—
the difference between willing ignorance and active participation,
complicit denial and abject perpetuation—

before you
think
“Solid Orange,”
think
of how ridiculous a Solid Orange Tiger would look.
Think
of seeing its stripes,
think
of being its stripes,

and think
of how terrible it is
to not be seen,
to not be acknowledged,

think
about never being doomed to repeat
an atrocious history,
and being better
because of knowing better
and doing better

because as things are now,
we are The Tigers,
built on a legacy of slavery, sharecropping and convict labor,
by slave owners, supremacists and segregationists,

but come to the campus of Clemson University,
and you’d hardly be able to tell it from looking around.

And it’s a shame.

We’d be a beautiful Tiger…

if only

we could
see our stripes.

-------------------- 

[i] Quote credited to ESPN and ABC broadcaster, Brent Musburger, in reference to the team’s pregame ritual of rubbing “Howard’s Rock” before running down The Hill onto Frank Howard Field.

[ii] From the ‘Solid Orange’ page on Clemson’s website: “Solid Orange goes far beyond orange T-shirts. It’s thinking and acting like a winner, knowing that everything we do reflects on every other Tiger. It’s just part of what makes Clemson uniquely Clemson.”

[iii] The Hamburg Massacre occurred July 4, 1876, and resulted in the deaths of seven men.

[iv] The boy’s name is Wade Foster. More information on his and other stories about the “Convict Labor” at Clemson is available in Dr. Rhondda Thomas’s essay, ““Slaves of the State”: Convict Labor and Clemson University Land and Legacy” in The South Carolina Review, Volume 46, Number 2, Spring 2014.

The picture used in the video is of 14-year-old George Stinney, Jr., who, in 1944 became the youngest person legally executed in the United States in the 20th century. He was executed by the state of South Carolina.

See The Stripes [A Poem by A.D. Carson] [Music by Preme]

"[1]
When I say I Used to Love H.E.R.—yesterday I touched her—
I would be the first to tell you there would be no other.
After we were lovers, we couldn’t be friends, still…
like we were Neo and we OD-ed on that “real” pill.

Chilled—feel like we fell off and we would never be
back in sync. And to think it was like telepathy:

she believed what I thought when I never said it,
and I could be what she needed and never ‘get’ it.

Why me? She could have whoever she wanted, 
Never taunted, heaven was flaunted and I was on it.
So what changed to make ever-y-thing different?
Every sting signifi/can’t see no redemption?

Well, that’s a tale for the lovers with blind eyes
who speak of loyalty. Here is where mine lies: 
we’re bound to change as much as the mind tries…
[Oh, oh, time flies]

[Hook]
All we want is to have us some. 
And spend our lives just for ours to come.

If it flies when you’re having fun
what does it do when you’re having none?

It’s like wings on the clock and it never stops…
[Oh, oh, time flies] 
So think, and those thoughts’ll just make it start…
[Oh, oh, time] 
again.

[2]
When I say I used to hate him—yesterday I played him—
I would be the last to tell you anything. I made him
to a villain, devoid of all feelings, wanting to kill him. 
Ink spilled…imagine a pistol pointing at mirrors.
Trigger pulled, and the glass that would shatter wouldn’t be matter, 
I couldn’t be madder, ‘cause nothing would splatter. Nothing would happen. 
Just standing there, aiming, squeezing and thinking, holding and hoping,
breathing, waiting to leave, exposing myself to knowing that this wasn’t life. 
Wasn’t right to be so caught up in it. 
Was brought up in it, but don’t have to leave my thought up in it.
Taught who him is, I learned that he was just not an image.
He was us. That implicitly meant that I was in it.

Now, that’s a tale for the lovers with blind eyes
who speak of loyalty. Here is where mine lies: 
we’re bound to change as much as the mind tries…
[Oh, oh, time flies]


[Hook]
All we want is to have us some. 
And spend our lives just for ours to come.

If it flies when you’re having fun
what does it do when you’re having none?

It’s like wings on the clock and it never stops…
[Oh, oh, time flies] 
So think, and those thoughts’ll just make it start…
[Oh, oh, time] 
again."


Time Tales Tell [Produced by Truth]

“[1: A.D. Carson]
Make no mistake, it’s about G’s.
Understand, I don’t give a F, it’s about Ease. 
About Deez...flows I perfected—moment I Seized—
guy that I Be. And y’all ain’t really fucking with me.
It’s A. 
Opportune moment for me to hone it.
Belly full of hunger, ain’t no question do he want it. 
Every second dude is on it, man, he questions every second dude who’s on and
he’s coming up with less than few responses. 
I’m a let you do the nonsense. 
I’m a lecture you to let you to the conscience. 
I’m elected. A selected few I bond with. 
A respected dude who’s honest, 
I’m eclectic, too. I guess it’s due to Momma’s
hectic rules and sketching through them comics
and them metric school responses
that left us to our lessons full of garbage…
that never taught us Huey P or Garvey
and were February sorry…made we wonder are we even hardly
better off than when we started being chartered. 

I’m aiming for the godly—and not asking permission. 

Dues already paid but, no matter, it’s intuition I’m listening to and giving to you
when I’m doing this here. I’m sincere, 
and speak from experience—plenty sins here. 

[Hook]
That’s Truth on the beat, and I speak his name
even when I spit in the streets, you hear what I’m saying, 
but do what you will with it
I’m usually ill with it
and if I’m sick, it won’t even matter, you’ll still get it. 

Plenty time in, and I’m still with it. 
Still feel I’m fresh as a mint, and I still live it. 
Still deciphering ciphers with real lyrics. 
Still feel I rep where I’m from—and that’s Ill nigga.

[2: Truth]
Truth on the beat, so the beat’s gritty. 
Congregation says ‘Amen’ like Meek Milly.
Each and every street, city, 
state, country, who stay hungry, 
motto is ‘make money.’

Genetically, the pedigree is take money. 
Since the Cortés, Columbus ‘nem, they was jumping 
in and out of boats, cutting throats, taking slaves. 
Getting Mondays off for serial killers who paved the way
for the Berkshires and Sam Walton, Warren Buffet. 
Selling shares—ain’t sharing shit when going public. 
Say Lebron rich, Hov wealthy, stitching envy. 
Comparison to the real rich—they pitching pennies. 
[Uh] 
Sipping Henny got me honest. 
Wanna sip it.
Shit’s watered down.
Have it straight, and shit, you vomit. 
So, I pop snares, pluck basses, hitting chronic,
Like, 
“Don’t look at me…somebody gotta tell ‘em.’”

[Hook]
That’s Truth on the beat, and I speak his name
even when I spit in the streets, you hear what I’m saying, 
but do what you will with it
I’m usually ill with it
and if I’m sick, it won’t even matter, you’ll still get it. 

Plenty time in, and I’m still with it. 
Still feel I’m fresh as a mint, and I still live it. 
Still deciphering ciphers with real lyrics. 
Still feel I rep where I’m from—and that’s Ill nigga.”



Truth On The Beat [Produced By Truth] [Featuring Truth]

Les Luger & Tj Byrd N Tatted Lee - GrownShit

"[1]
If I could put it in an open letter
and tattoo that on my skin so I won’t forget it, 
I’d probably say something cliché, like “Hope is better.”
Knowing’s never an excuse for not trying to go and get some more. 

And they say we got a lot of nerve
to ask for justice, as if it’s something not deserved. 
When he went to prison it was ‘cause he had a lot to serve. 
Living’s like a game of chicken, and the mission’s not to swerve. 

So you get it how you gotta. Living for today and not tomorrow 
ain’t as hard when you starving. 
I thank my lucky stars to be able to say, 
it’s kind of like a fixed ball game, and you gotta play.

So you won’t catch me judging how he tried to find a way.
To make it from the first to the third ain’t ever safe. 
But winning’s like an inning. The rules of running the base 
is three outs, AKA, KKK [and you’re struck].

[Hook]
Still looking forward to a greater day, 
but I can’t say enough phrases to take the pain away. 
And we still straining through changes and living with dangers. 
As plain as I can say it, I wonder if we will make it. 
I ain’t looking to shake what I’m facing. I’m trying to break it. 
And if there was an easier road, I wouldn’t take it. 

If I was you, I wouldn’t take it. 
But I’m just me, and I won’t take it. 

[2]
If I could tell you how I really feel, 
I’d tell you it’s a real cold world with an infinite chill. 

No need to say what you already know. 
And if you sleeping then the po-po is like NoDōz. 

No indictments, no rights when they violate you; 
repeated disrespect when you asking them why they hate you. 
Land of Brotherhood—if my Brother’s under a hood
and terrorizing me, then my family ain’t all that good. 

And if the hood’s a badge, and my brother’s shooting me down, 
and other family members see others looting the town, 
and blame it on the victim, then we gotta change the system 
for our daughters and our fathers and our mothers and our sisters. 

If I could tell you how I really feel: 
America, here and right now, feels like the Killing Fields,
because we’re fighting for rights, and nobody’s civil still. 
Sometimes it’s hard…believing this is really real. 

[Hook]
Still looking forward to a greater day, 
but I can’t say enough phrases to take the pain away. 
And we still straining through changes and living with dangers. 
As plain as I can say it, I wonder if we will make it. 
I ain’t looking to shake what I’m facing. I’m trying to break it. 
And if there was an easier road, I wouldn’t take it. 

If I was you, I wouldn’t take it. 
But I’m just me, and I won’t take it. 

Still looking forward to a greater day, 
but I can’t say enough phrases to take the pain away. 
And we still straining through changes and living with dangers. 
As plain as I can say it, I wonder if we will make it. 
I ain’t looking to shake what I’m facing. I’m trying to break it. 
And if there was an easier road, I wouldn’t take it. 

If I was you, I wouldn’t take it. 
But I’m just me, and I won’t take it." 


If I Could [Tell You] [Produced by Truth]

"Malcolm said that the media held the power, so he worked on his diction to make the massa fear and cower" ~ Freddy P

There are too many of us who don't see it don't hear it, don't feel it and therefor don't believe it exists" ~A.D. Carson 

Good Ol' Days (Prod. By Dee Aye) Ft. A.D. Carson

Tupac- How Do You Want It (Dynamique Remix)

Free DL: https://www.hive.co/l/qhw

<a href='https://theartistunion.com/tracks/4b12b6'>Download for free on The Artist Union</a>

Free Download

Power Trip (J. Cole Cover)

After a notable string of well received releases from Rhythm Section International, Label boss Bradley Zero recruits his South London comrade on RS007, Henry Wu, for an ode to SE15 with the new EP, 'Good Morning Pecknaam'.

A South East Londoner born and bred, Henry’s debut on Rhythm Section has been a long time coming and it seems that it was worth the wait as Henry presents 6 tracks of impeccably pleasing melodies. With previous releases on the likes of 22a and Alexander Nut’s Hotep... A back catalogue which has elevated him to becoming arguably one of the most hotly-tipped producers in the UK right now. The broken compositions and deep jazzy keys have earned him plaudits from scene veterans as well as peers, all keen to see what Henry will do next.

Buy 'Good Morning Peckham' : http://bit.ly/1Msi5zw

Listen on Youtube: http://bit.ly/1OKqopB
More info: http://bit.ly/1KtjnrP


Buy Now

Henry Wu - Good Morning Pecknaam (GPWW Premiere)

Buy on iTunes

Drama (Ft. Drake)

24 OF THE BEST ARTISTS IN CENTRAL, IL ALL ON 1 ALBUM HOSTED BY 217's WORKHORSE, UNCANNY, AND MIXED BY THE #1 DJ IN THE MIDWEST, DNY!!!!!!!

04 - A.D. Carson - Familiar

When they ask for it, never tell ‘em no. Let it go, 
put a pen to the pad—it’s an effervescent flow.
Definitely know—I’m a product of the era I was brought up in—
competition slaughtering for fun.
Might’ve mentioned guns as a shorty for attention.
Not to say they wasn’t in my area, but listen, 
my competition, they never wanted me dead, 
they wanted decapitation, they saw that I was ahead, 
heard that I told tales, knew that I did it well
Sisyphusean descriptions—I live in my own Hell.

It’s populated by heat that I hand make—flip a coin—
no matter how it lands, where you’re going—
is through they alleyways, back blocks, tenements, 
where if he don’t call a girl a bitch, he’s a gentleman. 
Misogyny expected—Sodom and Gomorrah.
Scary movie mind state—the problem ain’t the horror. 

In the movies, we die in the first scene, 
so we’re all really Drew Barrymore in the first Scream,
only it’s set in Harlem, maybe it’s in Detroit, 
the audience prays you don’t turn around—it ain’t The Voice. 
You fall as you’re running to get away— 
felonious metaphor, you do a year and a day.
Or die trying, 
lie silent, 
crack infested—surrounded by thirst, it’s Rock Island.
From 217 to 309, niggas open they rhyme books up and bleed on lines,
hope for some recognition—to cheat on dimes, 
ladies like Changing Faces, and we don’t mind.

Bars over the head like snatch lifts, 
dope boy antithesis—rhyme with a back flip.
Flip back one chapter,  finish the exposition—
Juice, on the roof, I’m standing right next to Bishop;
Raheem’s dead and Steel got shot—
We all know how the story ends—still I watch. 
Excited to see the violence—destined to See It Through.
Kinda funny, back in school, I pledged: I’m a Q.

Grew up in the era of ass whooppins
switches, belts, knuckles for mad lookin’, 
bus transfers, bummy and bad lookin’, 
lunchtime ciphers, dice get cash tooken. 

C-Style—A-dot, kind of the same guy—
Aries and Virgo—we should have been Gemini.
'Cause since shorties it was just him and I
talking more shit than a little bit, 
ignorant.
Wasn’t all good, but I choose how to remember it.
Mention it 'cause he sent me the track for me to spit to it.
97 Canibus, jaw dropped listening;
nobody spit like he did, and it’s been a minute since 
I had inspiration—so I listened closely.
Wondered what I’d say in conversation with the old me. 

“Stop drinking, pig is a filthy animal, 
if an elephant’s in the room, then you should be Hannibal, 
scribble down in your notebook all you can manage to
wait ten years, then publish it as the manual.”



The MANual

Dedication Ft. UnCanny Prod. By JunioR Beatz

Banger off of Genuine Draft shout out to AO !!!