bedroom soul 2

lost

Biscuits

Mono, 10'02'', 2016
Please, play it very loud

ToonsTunes (Four Pathetic Movements)

beattape is coming soon


holga film camera used for photo

i gotta leave in four hours

First single from my album, Grown Ass Kid.
℗ Secret Door
----------
Credits:
Produced by Cam O'bi 
Additional production & arrangement by Dee Lilly
Recorded by Nick Breton @ Truth Studios; Don "Hullio" Outten & Elton Cheung @ Classick Studios
Mixed by Elton Cheung, Dee Lilly, Cam O'bi
Mastered by Bernie Grundman
Artwork by David Silverstein
--------
Lyrics
[Chorus]
How come I can't do what fuck I want do
How come, how come
Tryna get this skraight no damn hot comb through
How come, how come
Weavin' through the naps, dreams been on hold
since my cradle hit the flo
tender head, my denim skrong
Yea, yea, yea, yeaaaaaah

[Verse 1: Cam O'bi]
Remember when I was a kiddo
growin' up in the middle
windows lining my smile, silver teeth underneath my pillow
a nigga had a nappy head like a Brillo pad
sister said I need to do somethin' about them beedy-beed naps
snackin' on Andy Capp's with a pickle and a quarter water
walked in the barbershop asked me what I wanted 
I told that man I wanted to look like Superman,
but when he had the long hair
you know, kinda like Michael Jackson?
The damn barber just started laughin'.
I cried as he gave me that bald fade.
Afro puffs hit the flo', symbolic of shedding my innocense
I guess I thought they were magicians or alchemists
or mathematicians 
with algebraic calculus algorithms designed to cure me of my nappiness
like a perm burned off my happiness
I sat silently acquiescent
pitfalls of adolescence 
spitballs and scrabble sessions and tattle-tales
playing around in the hallway like one of Santa's elves
"You wanna goto jail?" 
"Hell naw, mister security!", got sent to the principal for my potty mouth 
talkin' bout some "give me your number so we can call the house" 
but gimme got shot, so the ink staining my record now
you pull a comb thru my afro that shit'll crackle like a bowl full of Rice Krispies
rollin' my innocence in a cigarillo like

[Chorus]
How come I can't do what fuck I want do
How come, how come
Tryna get this skraight no damn hot comb through
How come, how come
Weavin' through the naps, dreams been on hold
since my cradle hit the flo
tender head, my denim skrong
How come, how come
How come I can't say what fuck I want say
How come, how come
Tender braids, but I can't make my eyes rain
How come, how come
Yanked straight from my naps, dead on my comb
When my cradle hit the flo' 
Tender head, my genes on swole
Yea, yea, yea, yeaaaaaaah

[Verse 2: Smino]
I don't wanna sing the
Star-spangled banner, 'less it's produced by David Banner
elbows on the lunch table, eatin on a gravy sammich 
lil' nigga no table manna's
crazy it attracted shawty's 
on the back of the bus gettin' neck had a knack fuh noggin'
lil' nick at nighttime
googlin' booty, beauty illusions polluted and deep-rooted in my mind
my block was a rubix
anywhere you turned, the shit was hot around the clock 
and they could not ice cube it
damn
mama I don't like this school shit, 
fuck a logarithm, I'll log into the music
damn
daddy I don't like this school shit
I beat the desk until my knuckles bleed
all my teachers think I'm challenged mentally
but my mental skrong, know who I wanna be,
instantly began a surgery
bada-bing, voila!, made wings wit the words Hallelujah, yah bitch, yah!
all my blessings came when I accepted I'm not y'all
I been put it down the line like laundry
they told find something more concrete
now a lil' nigga breakin' concrete
praises to God I ain't no convict
they'll never take away my confidence

[Chorus]
How come I can't do what fuck I want do
How come, how come
Tryna get this skraight no damn hot comb through
How come, how come
Weavin' through the naps, dreams been on hold
since my cradle hit the flo
tender head, my denim skrong
How come, how come
How come I can't say what fuck I want say
How come, how come
Tender braids, but I can't make my eyes rain
How come, how come
Yanked straight from my naps, dead on my comb
When my cradle hit the flo' 
Tender head, my genes on swole
Yea, yea, yea, yeaaaaaaah

Grown Ass Kid

TenderHeaded ft. Smino

OH ME OH MIGHTY

ORLAH

Alia Trabucco Zerán talks about her debut novel The Remainder.

Novel Writers is a great way to discover new writing talent and great books. Each month, Spike Island and Bristol Festival of Ideas invite exciting debut novelists to come to Bristol and introduce their book.

The Warm Up podcast is a cosy introduction to the event, where we ask the writer about the making of their book; the story before the story. Interviews are by Bristol-based writer and translator Julie Fuster.

The Warm Up

Novel Writers: The Warm Up with Alia Trabucco Zeran

HAPPY SONG

charli xcx - forever remix 4 candy

Sounds, with no pounds, or not but without a tuppence to give. This is the list. Go on, listen. Please, I insist.

Biscuits

Aalvk

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