PROMISCUOUS

prod. by @yungameba
mixed by @tevinwmusic

I read about the ark, but wonder ‘bout where Noah kept the fish in

God must own a tempur-pedic, that’s why Christ has seldom risen

God was bored so Abraham beheld a vision he should kill his children then he almost killed him but then God was like I’m kidding

God sure asks a lot for someone who’s supreme and self-sufficient

I bet Christ’s apostles really were a group of twelve magicians

if God is good then why do kids have cancer cell division 
truthfully, I’m more pissed off about my plasma television
that I prayed for but I never got, 

if organized religion
really wants to solve conditions
they should stop peddling scripture, 
trade the bishops for physicians, melt the steeples into stethoscopes, swap sermons for some surgeons and instead should sell prescriptions

I wish Christ was still alive to turn my water into Zinfandel 

I’m confused why ISIS slaughters guiltless infidels

I wonder if when God is sent Fidel
he would toss him into hell or place the hard decisions 
in his closet on a shelf

the Fall of Adam sucks and all as God has taught us very well
if God’s almighty why could not he just have caught him as fell

If I could meet the Lord incarnate I’d award him with a ribbon
not as savior, but as heaven’s finest warden of a prison

If I were there when Gutenberg had beta-printed newly minted
bibles, I’d say wait a minute, you should shorten them a smidgen,
and for nonbelievers, make sure God’s coordinates were given

I wonder if you sin but pray it off, if all of it’s forgiven

I feel like God knew Eve would take it if he called the fruit forbidden
but just plays it off, like jesus, dude, admit it, you’re omniscient

If Allah were on twitter he would catch some major flack

I like to think if you retweeted, he would pat you on the back

I like to think he outlawed bacon due to saturated fat

I like to think he too’s confused about the SNAFU in Iraq,

I like to think that up in Eden there’s a patch of purple grass
where every innocent civilian gets a statue and a plaque 

 The Palestine-Israeli conflict’s like the longest game of tag,
and with the bombers, it’s the wrongest game of capturing the flag,

I wonder if the lord is cross that I do not believe in he
but more importantly, I wonder if the lord believes in me

twenty-two thoughts on god

edit: jesus thank you all for the support 

prod. by @yungameba
mixed by @tevinwmusic

I just got the iPhone 7
I put siri on disable
cause I’ve watched the movie “her”
and that shit scares me so I’m careful

me and her got chemistry right out the box
and I ain’t talking about the periodic table
her voice is like a chariot of angels
I fell in love so fast that maybe apple should consider pasting warning symbols clearly on the label
me and siri keep it modern
siri doesn’t cook or clean
instead she books all my appointments
and she looks through my routine

me and siri’ve got an intimate connection
that is, at least, when siri’s got an internet connection
my friends are all convinced it’s voice detection 
but I’m poised to mention, I see sentience and hints of recollection
and on top of that, my friends all give me shit but they don’t share the vision
all I gotta say’s “hey siri” and she’s always there to listen Hey
and she’s never mad that I’m neglecting, never has a headache,
and If somehow I want things different I can always change her settings

I really like her, I’m not sure if we’re official though
If she could be Terentia, I could venture to be Cicero
I sort of wish the sacred fruit were not an apple but a thistleful of mistletoe
it’s superficial but I wish that she was were made of flesh-and-bone
or partially of skin cells
I wouldn’t even care that she’s got artificial intel
if Siri had a body, we could FaceTime during sex
and then I bet it’d be way easier to ace the turing test
and if you can’t tell, 
I don’t want a handheld,
I just want my hand held, 
sometimes I venture out a wild guess
that if she can’t be human ever, 
I’ll invest in biotech 
and run myself on iOS

and then us two could be together
we could live as plural in the singularity,
I hope by then, my singlehood would be a thing of rarity, 
but if it’s just not written in the code for us to coexist,
then maybe I could cope by contemplating that you don’t exist,
that you consist not of two eyes, a nose but ones and 0’s and bits,
that I’m in love with cold machinery, a program on a disc
and even if you were incarnate, Siri, really I surmise
it’d be hard to date you cause you’ve been with millions of guys
and I’d just feel like I was inexperienced and Siri, yes,
I’ve considered that you’d win in games of trivia or chess
that we would play and that would just get real annoying in the end,
it’s not you, it’s me, I think that maybe we should just be friends
and maybe in a couple years me and you could try again

thank you to everyone for all the support, really

prod. @yungameba
mixed by @tevinwmusic

if somehow scientists proclaim they see the apocalypse approaching 
I would buy a box of tissues, Oculus and lots of lotion 
and just lock myself indoors, I’d build a bunker out of blankets,
a fallout shelter out of sofa cushions, cook a bunch of pancakes, 
while I thunk about my grandkids, I’d prolly have to forage lunch,
or have a bran of storage porridge and a can of orange chunks,
until I reached a shortage, then if I hungered for a banquet

I’d make cocktails, mostly molotov
and waltz on over to a wal-mart with my martyr-like martini bombs and wall it off
so I could have the whole place to myself,

 I’d stop and start to crop apart the shopping carts 
and fashion pitchforks from the bars until I felt a sense of self-defense, 
I’d meld a fence around the produce sector and I wouldn’t have to spend a cent, 
I’d set up tents in electronics and wouldn’t have to send the rent, 
Instead of panicking, I’d marshal mannequins, pretend they’re friends
and host a massive slumber party in the “home and bedding” end

cause all I need to be content, is room and board and solid food
if I end up the last on Earth, then I’d adore the solitude
and I don’t mean to sound too rude, I just don’t really find it strange
that I don’t care the way we go, whether it’s war or climate change
atomic bombs or comet craters, hordes of zombie space invaders,
angels singing psalms while Satan’s satyrs crack through the equator
either way we’re gone, and I don’t feel the need to lift the rug,
if I can spend my final moments happy, I don’t give a fuck

I’d do my best to reconstruct tho, if let’s say the apocalypse 
caused major drops in populace and hit New York’s metropolis, 
I’d obligate myself to help me congregate the boroughs, 
add some zeroes to the census bureau’s copy room materials,
I’d even copulate with girls to help repopulate the world
cause that would be my duty;

 maybe I’d do what Jehovah would
and go for broke and build an ark of fifty cubits gopherwood
but leave the termites out cause surely that would not go over good

If I knew the world was ending
I’d start texting all my exes
and fuck ourselves to death until Jesus resurrects us
and the trumpets say 
it’s judgement day…

cataclysm

thank you for ALL the support 
mixed by @tevinwmusic
prod by @yungameba

music video: http://bit.ly/2yaRgA1


I like to think I’m well-equipped as any other average guy 
but I just can’t discover love and I don’t even set my standards high
on top of that, I’m camera shy, maybe I should opt-out of the dating pool
and be an undercover tinder samurai

cause I would rather type online than whisper in a dingy bar
and swiping left and right could be my new bushido ninja star
and I’m well-versed in virtual lovemaking ninjutsu 
on every profile pic I post, I’m posing with my shitzu
or flexing with my shirt off cause I heard that gets you hits too

Especially OkCupid, I’m like Eros or the cherubs be,
I pierce hearts of women with my cursor and my arrow keys
and disregard my Roman roots and choose a font that’s serif-free,

trust me,

 I’m a tinder bio brainiac
the way I kindle fire with matches, I’m a pyromaniac
on christian mingle, I’m a casanova,
if ya’ll don’t think so, y’all can ask Jehovah
check your inbox, he might send an answer over

I wish I had the muscles of a granite sculpture
I would log on ashleymadison and bang adulterers
I’m so lonely, I’ve considered farmers-only
just for someone’s arms to hold me
also, I’m really big on agriculture

but if I had that body of a grecian god
I would trawl on pof.com and use it as a fishing rod
and hope I don’t get catfish,
the fact is if I did, I’d probably play along cause god knows I could use the practice,

and if I’m aching for my roots, I’d visit shaadi.com
message islamic wahhabi hijabi hotties “salaam”
and sunni, shia, those are both denominations I respect
cause I just care for our connection, 

I don’t care about the sects

sometimes I uninstall my apps in reckless insurrectious rage
and then regret it while I check the craiglist missed connections page
and then I think that I should get out more and disregard my mobile cell
and get to know the local teller at my barnes and noble well
and check out what she’s reading while she’s charging up my total sale
and ask her if she likes the novel,
and once she answers, ask her if wants to grab some coffee or some ice cream waffles,
and she’d probably say that’s awesome, 

 I’d ask her when she’s off of work,

 she might answer “midnight”

 I’d tell her that sounds awful, 

what a bummer, and from somewhere
I might muster up the nerve to get her number,

 and I would ask her what her digits are
and if I play it right then I can disregard my ninja stars, 
say sayonara to katanas and my other weapons too 
and try committing by committing online dating seppuku

tinder samurai (video in description)

free download - https://jakeychristy.bandcamp.com/releases

Cafeteria

don't worry, the next song is a rap
happy thanksgiving 
thanks for all the support seriously
repost retweet recycle

mixed by @ibr
produced by @mt-marcy
shout out OTJ


you sent me a text at 3:07 late last night
you barely knew him, 
you only blew him,
 you had  a few drinks

as if that could  make things right

and soon you asked  about our future  
 well, my darling, here’s my  answer


I hope you burn in a house fire
I hope you get stage IV cancer 

I’d be by your bedside waiting 
 till your sweet goodbye, my friend
I’d resuscitate you just
so I could watch you die again 

I fucking hate you 
I fucking hate you

and I know what you’ll do,

you’ll say you’re sorry
through your smile
and I’ll stay angry 
for a while
and you’ll come over
and we’ll be sober


until we’re not,
and we would make out on my sofa
I'd wake up one morning sunny

with your arms around my chest,

and it’d feel so good to be with somebody

I just might forget

how's it going

you'll say sorry through your smile

Off The Jump Presents a new single by @iamsamsa

Produced by: 
@basicjo

Mixed by:
@ibr

Cover Art by:
@iamsamsa

Stay tuned on our Social Media
 
https://twitter.com/offthejumpmg

https://www.instagram.com/offthejump

and by visiting www.offthejvmp.com/

samsa - solo

prod @rainlord
mixed by @ibr

lyrics: http://pastebin.com/BktFpHc4

look, I won’t pretend I understand it babe, the afterlife and all
but as you died you promised me that you would try to write or call
and I’ve been waiting ever since, every sunday I hold seances with like-minded adults
and roll your corpse into the living room and try and find your pulse and then repine at the results, I’ve even got my windowsills lined up with ultraviolet bulbs, shrunken shrines of human skulls and other signs of the occult but now I’m at a fucking loss, cause honey, nothing seems to work…
 
like I’ve been astrally projecting my body beyond my dreams
through the fabric of space and time so you could me spot me at the seams
I ventured through the upside-down hoping you caught me in between
but maybe if you’ve got the tech, then you could haunt me on my screens
 
like you should infiltrate my news feed
I swear no one would notice
you could float beside some bogus buzzfeed quiz about the POTUS
be a pixelated phantom ghost
on clickbait propaganda posts
and dictate what you’re thinking through a catchy headline
like “one weird reason why it’s great to be ethereal”
or “twenty signs you’re dead now and your soul is immaterial”
 
or if it’s late at night then you could swoop in from the shadow realm
and talk to me through pop-up ads that show up over adult films
on anything you’re into, we could start with milf, or facial,
you could beam your interspatial spirit into interracial
if you’re feeling sorta formal, we could pizza date on Skype
and I could call the coroner over n’ we could share the corner slice and when it’s time to go to bed, then we could leave our cameras on
and if the netherworld has one-day shipping free on Amazon
 
then you could slumber as you ship yourself, I swear this shit delivers quick
or send me the address and I could meet you by the river styx
I’d twitter beef with Namtar by the Tigris and Euphrates
I could snap you while I’m snagging sacred threads of life from Hades
I would loot Duat and photocopy-pirate the papyus,
change the records and then have a Facebook flamewar with Osiris  
and either way, I can’t wait to talk or reunite,
I’ve been so lonely since you died, I’ve tried to walk towards the light
and if the Gods of Death oppose our harmless want to reconvene
then maybe we could sneak you by ‘em if you haunt me through a screen

the rest of the lyrics: pastebin.com/BktFpHc4

haunt me on twitter

haunt me

prod. @corybear
mixed by @ibr

shout out stream squad

I think in I’m in love
but I’ve been feeling otherwise
these flutters in my stomach aren’t butterflies but cutting knives 
and not the butter kind, and if you listen close when she begins to speak, you’ll hear a couple hundred sighs and the collective shut of eyes, letters linger on her lips like lullabies, I think I’ve  drowned a couple times inside her opal-colored eyes, she could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives, a perfect 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs, X catch her wearing loose pajamas on a sunday and she’d overshadow any supermodel on a runway, when she wakes up in the morning up she smells like vanilla essence and the bittersweet recollections of your adolescence, summer camp and piano lessons and presents you got on birthdays, orange creamsicles and double plays on first base, and walk past her in the halls and if your shoulders feel the slightest brush then you might melt to liquid gold, the lightest kind of midas touch, I’ve seen the way she drinks espresso during classes and reshapes a paper cu p into an emerald-covered chalice, sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances to me through her giorgio armani frames, she’s nearly perfect in 
almost 
every
way 









. 



.


.
but she’s got shit taste in movies, ask her for her favorite titles and she always likes to say she’s down to go see anything by shyamalan or michael bay, and also, she’s a psycho in the kitchen, 
it’s a travesty, what kind of fucking monster cooks their pasta in the microwave? 
and she does this thing where she corrects your grammar if it’s wrong and clicks her tongue and winks and shoots a playful finger gun as if she’s won some sorta contest, empress victor-of-a-conquest, mrs. armchair shrink, let me fix you with a comment, princess kick you when you’re down, worshipper to a godhead, it seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn’t chime in quick with unsolicited advice, an unapologetic tyrant of passive aggressive rivalry, ask her a question and catch and handful of sass and irony, and trust me, she is just the worst at board games, debates about the rules like legislators at a court case, tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel, once I even caught her cheating while she kept the score in scrabble, she’s a fucking wreck at checkers, plays monopoly sloppily, always bringing up disputes in games of trivial pursuit, sucks at battleship and risk, she fights better hand-to-hand, 
and don’t even get me started ‘bout how trash she is at candy land

but I’m no adonis either,
fashion sense abysmal, I’ve got two nirvana t-shirts 
that I wear to formal outings and I’ve never owned a cardigan,
catch me buyin’ cargo pants at target from the bargain bin
drink milk straight out the carton, use my hands to scoop out margarine
breakfast table etiquette makes up our morning arguments
and I’m not a glass half full kinda guy,
shipwrecked, flags half-mast hull kinda guy
I never was an optimist, not too good at compromise,
the problem is my ego’s far too fragile to apologize
but she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pegs too
it’s always nice to have somebody close who double-checks you
and honestly, we wouldn’t be ourselves if we were different 
yeah, she’s clumsy and I’m stupid, those are things that we can live with
being perfect’s unrealistic, either way I like our flaws
the way I crack my knuckles often, the obnoxious way she yawns
the way I stutter when I flirt cause I’m not very good with courtship
the way she’s gotta pee the first ten minutes of a road trip
how when she cuts her pancakes it’s in slices, not in squares
the way my daily coffee intake is a crisis, I'm aware
the way I talk in crowded theatre and the way she parks in parallel
the way she goes through pints of ben and jerrys salted caramel
the way...

slide in my DM's

butterflies

Off The Jump Presents a new single by @iamsamsa

Produced by: 
@yungmai

Mixed by:
@ibr

Cover Art by:
@passive155

Stay tuned on our Social Media

twitter.com/offthejumpmg

www.instagram.com/offthejump

and by visiting www.offthejvmp.com/

samsa - driftwood

Off The Jump Presents a new single by @iamsamsa

Produced by: 
https://soundcloud.com/lostronin

Mixed by:
@ibr

Cover Art by:
@passive155

Stay tuned on our Social Media

twitter.com/offthejumpmg

www.instagram.com/offthejump

and by visiting www.offthejvmp.com/

Annotate this song on rapgenius: https://genius.com/Samsa-cuttlefish-annotated

Lyrics: 

i wish i had your colors
i wish i had your colors
and your second sheet of skin


I was the camera shutter
you were the camera flash
you dressed in camouflage
  I- I wore pajama pants


I was a manatee
you- you were a cuttlefish,
i moved in cavalcades, lumbering
you could choreograph a ballad in the muscle tissue of a subtle twitch
masquerade as something other, make your outer colors switch
i was sculpted out of slate, you grew out a floral wreath
i had dorsal flippers, you had tentacles and plural feet
and twisted past the crevices and left me by the coral reef 

bereft of thought, left abroad
always acted like you spoke the breath of God
concrete cephalopod
of course you couldn’t let me in
coagulate your casing when I touched you with my ventral fin
polaroids with exes, you had emerald skin, several tints
watched your soma shimmer when you texted him
i’ve seen all your colors fade, it’s me that you’ve lost interest in
beige or blue at home but you could toggle through a range of hues
flash an orange smile to men that you were just a stranger to
never was a creature that you couldn’t change into, 
nothing complicated for you mimic octopus, what can’t you do 
stage yourself an angelfish, change to an electric eel,
arrange yourself in halo rings, conduct a charge of sex appeal

never knew if you would give me voltage or a spark,
me, a goldfish at the surface, you would puncture through the dark
as you were coming, never knew if you were dolphin or a shark
when you pulled your disappearing act and cast me your good-byes
i would ask you why you’re leaving, you would mask it with your lies
selective memory, forget the good, remember when i fucked shit up
hold onto regrets and petty arguments with suction cups
bioluminescent, you would find me if try and hid
giant squid feelers, venom lion fish fins

when you pulled your disappearing act and cast me your good-byes
i would ask you why you’re leaving, you would mask it with your lies
practiced master of disguise, go and blast me with your dyes
inkjet smokescreen me with mascara from your eyes

i was nothing like you; i was colorless, maladroit
i saw us as lovers, not as color-coded data points
on some sort of a lab report, i tried to become you
change my patterns often and take us back to what we had before
but i could never do it, you could see through my chromatophores
control me with your colors, what’s a sea cow to a matador 


you- you were a darter fish
facelift artifice
garter snakeskin scales
shapeshift cartilage


I was the camera shutter

you were the camera flash

you dressed in camouflage

I- I wore pajama pants


I was a manatee

you- you were a cuttlefish,

i moved in cavalcades, lumbering

samsa - cuttlefish

Dedicated to the 1996 Car of the Year.

Download on Bandcamp - https://jakeychristy.bandcamp.com/track/south-dakota

Music Video - https://youtu.be/kLSFXEIO7aM

Mastered by my buddy Jazzpah
- https://soundcloud.com/jazzpah-2
- https://www.facebook.com/jazzpah
- https://jazzpah.bandcamp.com/

South Dakota

100K. Dedicated to my family and friends.

music video - https://youtu.be/qOYdvqnFsR4

Mastered by my buddy Jazzpah
- https://soundcloud.com/jazzpah-2
- https://www.facebook.com/jazzpah
- https://jazzpah.bandcamp.com/

Saintlike

Outro

prod. @jhfly
art by rach, @passive155 on twitter

i miss the olden days
back when we would drive my civic off into the sunset, windshield glowing with a golden haze
i miss the simpler times
when you could pick me up at 4 am and hit the road and we would improvise 
with nothing in the GPS, back when we were free to roam
and brought a pillow with us so that anywhere could be our home
not the most romantic, but we planned out all our future dates
and snuck in every morning to cop breakfast at a super eight 
I’d waltz in past the front desk, then open the cafe door
you’d slink in and we’d have a banquet that we’d never pay for
two goody-two-shoes breaking all the rules, little rebels, we were perps
tryna hide our smirks while slipping fruity pebbles in your purse
and as we dipped out of the exit you would grin as if you’d robbed a bank
hop into our getaway and gun it on an empty tank
pull into an vacant station where our car’s the only one


there’s something meditative about the smell of fresh petroleum  



but things have changed since,

 cars are losing their appeal
it’s been decades since I’ve even gripped a steering wheel
elon built a hyperloop so no one drives drive a coupe no more,
people take their transit-pods through traffic on their private routes
china’s got a maglev train but I would never get aboard
in russia I heard they could program people so they teleport
point A to B, always know exactly where you’re headed for
remember when a road trip meant a sojourn, not a metaphor
remember rolling windows down with levers on the metal doors
and reaching back behind your seat to find that bag of kettle corn
one foot on the floorboard, then put on the gas
yearning for that rearview mirror, i’ve got one foot in the past

rearview

Dedicated to my dead friends.

Music video -https://youtu.be/s4d9TJGh2o8

Produced by me
Mastered by Jazzpah -https://soundcloud.com/jazzpah-2

Medium

Let You Down

prod. @xmittens
mixed by @ibr

lyrics: https://genius.com/Samsa-technocrat-lyrics

technocrat

just a quick lil diddy about unrequited love. I made most of the track in the denver airport.

video it's featured in: https://youtu.be/6n48bX9_r1M

*

Aussie Doughnut