Trust me, i make the best of friends
with people who don't know me because
they don't know I'm capable of public stoning
and throwing imbecilic jokes 
into the hazard of this tennis match; boning
harder than if you can't find him
then you'll never stop Kony.
Lonely, you'll realize there's no 
more ill-prepared baloney being served
at the incandescent deli of my domain but
the incense-smoked pastrami rotting
on the windowsill of your imbecilic brain.
Yeah, I'd rather have the product
be a little sloppy than to have to pay
for a lame machine, you know what I mean?
Oh saddle up, cowboy. Secure that safety
pin of sardonacy and help saute
these succulent sausage-linked laments.
Alack! The open-ended function of these
dungeness crustaceans climbing up
the dungeon walls that send
the guards reeling with pure, fermented ascension disdain.
Help me puree the remains of a rotting tetris chain
combined with the altered state of ashes when
they've soaked too long in a puddle of rain and
patches of naired hair, the
patchwork of your self-taught, self-made,
self-proclaimed antsy basket of shame,
you patsy fame succubus,
wading in the wake of that pathetic lake.
Raise them stake, prolific actor,
bachelor on a bed of broken condoms,
and let us know how you look when you're really afraid.
Really trembling from a flaky academic
promise, unkempt and fleeting faster than the
lines in your supposed 'cleanliness'.
When you can actually taste the harlem snake
in your mistaken shake.
How dense is that smoothie, looney-bin escapist?
Rapist of the latest action figure fan-fic
to penetrate Lego-brand castle cadence?
Please, humor me:
If the foolishness and lunacy emitted by that
headstrong furnace surface atop your bed-bong
is the center of your problems and your tactic for
reeling in those fishnet wielding barracuda basket
cases (minus the net, basket, and case, mind you)
where do you lay your head at night?
No, no, no, or better yet:
When you do rest your weary dome on whatever
object you've chosen to truly objectify,
how is it that without a pivot you can mimic
any cynic acting timid in a crowd of optimistic pie?
It's beyond me. It's the laundry.
It's the ever daunting haunting of a single
mile-long palm tree.
It's the offbeat, hit when the on has been expected.
It's her sorries, softly,
back and forth repeated but never redundant; kinda like a heartbeat.
Me? I'm a bat with no heart
unless you count the sonar.
I'm what you'd call a platform for puking old barb
and smooching. I'm the crowbar-holding
stupid lowlife looting Apple stores and hoping for
produce, not product. I'm disputing
reputable channels.
Stay tuned, grey goose, cause I don't believe a single word coming out the
mouth of that two-dimensional mammal.
Motherfucker, the show's been cancelled.
I say goddamnit, rabbit, this carrot's
riveting, dipping it in
hummus and licking it off
lather, rinse, repeat the sermon among us
snipping the top little by little
and whittling the raw enthralling drawing 
skinwise acute,
but after all, shoot, the carrot's only a root.
And that art? It's only a fading tattoo.

I'm A Bat With No Heart

summer jamz '14 with brain c. on quitars and harmonies
headphones recommended

hi, pleased to meet ya, you can call me magic cesar
best damn rapper this side of the pizzeria
so dope they think i'm eighth dwarf
mothafucka, snow white and i fucked on the back porch
you lack torque, i'm a prehistoric anomaly
for the hard of speech, i think my heart is on the brink
martyr preach, i've got no anesthetic
ripping this one out is gonna hurt, drink to forget it
i've got natural sedatives embedded in my bloodline
without a shroud of hesitance i'm absorbing your sunshine
a thousand years of darkness responding to the hardship
flooding the market and targeting shit at god's lips
wash it down with a mortgage
i'll be paying out my ass until they're asking give me more bitch
responsible for the shortage or boredom
i've got the shores imploring me to cease the haul to score none
i'm defecating on syntax,
i'm tripping individuals weighing me down like slimfast
i'm here to launch the celibate legacy full throttle
full bottle of high octane year of the burnt taco
now back to the factory, more packaging
someday ima have to tear off a couple phalanges
and put them in a box and fucking mail them to vermont
so i don't have to lift a finger, still get the message across
i'm tired of working like the rest of them, obsessed with guns,
and pressing the higher-ups to cup a little more in my cup
just to get a little drunk when the weekend comes to relieve me
of the work i never paid money to study yet i'm qualified
it's small inside this magic eight ball apartment
every couple months a desperate actor comes knocking
i'm all "what you want, bitch?"
they're like "just a little job man!"
like yeah, we've got a bunch of kids that need help making straw hats
you crawdad, you're all mad, you're getting ready to call back
you need that monolithic superstition just to fall flat
you ain't all that, you make the women kamikaze
i get the women swimming in holy water religiously
and skinny dipping even more frigid than a double scoop (shouts to phil)
half naked out the door screaming i didn't mean to trouble you
meaning i'm overachieving and gaining speed
i get the people moving like it's fucking raining weed
my hung bits are bong rips when she swallow the long tip
i belong in a constant state of lifted existence, wrong script
i'm on the offense, the whole world ain't a stage, it's a camera lens
serving up fresh lyrical plates circa early 2000's
and insecurity blankets for the cold and too adamant
mad and shit when they catch me side-stepping away
but i can cackle at the hassle they battle chemical shakes
sometimes i get to feeling really distinguished
but then i open up my mouth and out comes broken english
but still i'm overachieving and gaining speed
i get the people moving like it's fucking raining weed

Raining Diesel feat. Brian Carpenter

HUGE SHOUTS TO HEWITT FOR LETTING ME JUMP ON THE MIC.

This is a super new verse and a really old verse.
This is not my beat.

i said give me half an hour, she said give me 45
postponing being mortified by looking in her eyes
just a rollercoaster ride, i'm at the peak
but i ain't get to screaming cuz i don't wanna look weak
been working on my physique
 it ain't no self-preservation
only i've been feeling lucky cuz puppy love is amazing
sailing the american i'm on my way home with a dead phone
pockets full of nothing but a haircomb
there there little wrestler
you wanna pick a fight with me, i swear i'll get the best of you
unless i let you win, unless you're on my team
either way you'll get the best of me and then we'll both get ice cream
the lightning. unapologetic display
yesterday's worse version kinda got better today
she's probably chewing gum, drinking coffee from behind the desk
meanwhile i'm on a quest to make sense of the rest
i'm still having trouble kinda fathoming the sex
but for whatever reason i'm content kissing her neck
summering to the shuffling sounds of the passengers
laughing at the baffling static of my enraptured passion
with a heart full of matches
i'll strike a bonfire, find a fucker who can match it
taking action comes naturally for an actress and taking chances be second nature to this activist
i ain't planning this, i've never been the type to
but still that special cadence influencing what i might do
goddamnit girl, i like you
we could kick it aLL day and you'd still wanna spend the night too
i'm the type of dude that gets caught up in the love lines
because they're more important, only quarters for a bus ride
and i don't know what happened last night,
but i'm willing to bet that it will not be the last time
you pale in comparison and i know its embarrassing
that i'm only 19 and i'm still assuming the parent in
this relationship, and its apparent that
i auditioned for the parent trap and now i'm wearing rap
yes i'm swearing on the level of a pirate
living on the wave of this beat hard to describe it
and when i write it i can feel the water flow through me
no droopy tree in sight but a little lunacy
livid and living on a diet of fruit and ramen
gold on my mind, laying waste to tutenkamen
turning nutella into citronella
fella you're doing it wrong
bela lugosi in the flesh, hella where i belong
and now i'm going strong and now you're linking weakly
and weekly i'm speaking out my ass you call it preaching
you cant relate to this greatness because you're latent
and i'm patiently scheming up a way to say it
and i'm hitting the pavement with my gold sounds
baby if you cut your hair i'm gonna be so proud
because you sold out
open the closed mouth
you wouldn't believe me if i told you i was old now
yeah little by little, step by step
i'll grow apart from you and near a cigarette
i can dilate  my left eye
and photosynthesize strategies the right devised
and to write divine in the crevice of my life
that would be the understatement of the century denied
ain't nothing more beautiful than the death of a sad you
and if i had to i'd resort to ax use

useless.

O L D S T O N E S (DOOM / RZA - Books of War)

All vinyl set N°1

Track ID:
Rediant Nymph - iO (Mulen)
Off Message - Steve O'Sullivan
Smoke 'N' Mirrors - Nathan Alexander
Ecko - Joe Koshin
Hooked on You - DJOKO
Level Up - Dual Monitor
Rebound - Jerome
Untitled 1 - 420 (Galcher Lustwerk)
Still a Dancer (Dub) - Kemdi

😈dish😈

Minimal Techno_Hardgroove_Deep House_Mix #001 - 6.22.24.pdf

for brad and the future

the language is incredible, marijuana accessible
i've been building a pedastol, damaging all the decibels
i'm a new person, i've been purchasing purses
and mercilessly murdering anything i deem worthless
its all for certain, its sealed and been delivered
i've always been a bitter, inconsiderate thriller
at least i ain't a quitter though, i'll never be a twitter hoe
you wanna find that devil flow, so check around my schedule
and check the mileage on your run down chevy, son
the vernacular attached to ya is pissing off everyone
good, this fucker thinks he's winning it
thing about me is i get militant with elegance
this is latino excellence, exodus from the prejudice
shedding that pale skin and find the darker melanin
i coax the folks out of their open-close routines and give em light
this goes to those who chose to run machines instead of living right
sacrificial is a fistful of dreams
somethings gotta give, we gotta give something that means something
else it means nothing, between function and need
the element of greed is present
in essence we're all seeds
who flourish and make trees
if nourished correctly
bradley nowell bless your soul we're finally legalizing weed
pass a bong, pass a blunt
play a song, plant a tree
with the seed we're passing down we're passing down more than a legacy

Great Hit

FURL and Magic Cesar

not yet have I struck a nerve where i should
but i still get pissed in the midst of my words
burns a little more when the shards get torn
never been a harder way to reverse getting born
bored is the way if life if you got shit
and lit is the way to live if the boot fits
let me throw down the calculus for the perfect hit
this weekend is gonna get mixed like a spliff
they call me keef cuz i'm tiny and i'm tasty
they call him cash beef cuz he's red and he pays me
blame me, pussy, i'm a punching bag lately
haters be chasing me, shamelessly, pray for me
i'm still aimlessly looking for the answers
but i only capture redundant disasters
but i never factor in what i'm after
until i'm ten drinks in soaking in my bladder
are you any gladder? who really cares?
not i said the eye to the eyebrow hairs
cut the crap, bitch, he don't belong to no one
no passion, fashion for the lowest scum
when i've become really ain't block that
fact that i'm just as hot or hotter than a breakbot track
class act shit, will you ever learn?
action: you don't know the meaning of the word

Hang Brain AKA Capetzio

well here's a song with a silly story.. i was sort of commissioned (if commissioned is even the right word) to write this song by a director dude who was into the idea of shooting a video. not of a song i already had, but of a "cool" new one with a concept... the concept was that a girl broke my heart and so i had to contemplate whether or not i wanted to kill her yada yada.. so basically, this wasn't my idea. needless to say, the video never happened and so then i was stuck with a full song that i never wanted to write. i'm sick right now, and all my friends went to a party and i stayed home.. so i decided to record it.. and for the record, yes, all i can hear when i make songs are the lousy garageband samples.. lyricless, shit samples :

I’ve been trying to decide exactly how to confide
In the greatest human being I knew up until she died
I’ve been meaning to scheme up the greatest alibi
The floorboards are soaking up blood if only in my mind
No I ain’t trying to get you to come back to me
Bitch I’m fed up with this unjustified alacrity
So I’m angry actually
And just a little scared of what they’ll do if I act naturally
Factually I deserve more than what I ordered
And what the waitress brought I couldn’t pay with a quarter
No sir I ain’t the sober owner of this set of kitchen blades
Fish filet ain’t what I’d be dicing with them anyway
Tripping like Axel Dose on a triple rose
Maybe you like lying but honesty is my comatose
And I’m trying to see your side of this
But while I try to kill him you try to tell me what biased is
You don’t find the same satisfaction with your hands tied
And I don’t feel nothing when you hand jive
Can’t find you under the landslide of lies
Scumbag manager you specialize in what I ostracize
Gutter punk, sputtering Sailor Jerry’s in shop class
I hope you lose a digit fiddling with a broken shot glass,
not pass 25 you fucking misused snot rag,
And die from the missed jizz and mischief you never bought back
And I copped that block of hate fermenting on the windowsill
Hoping you’d look back at this viciously cynical imbecile
But I never dwell on my past events
In fact I’ve got a new girl, she’s got a cute name: revenge

don't be surprised, you know i'm crass
hatchetwound bleeding at the bottom of the glass
despite ritualistic measures to engrave it on the surfaces
we tear to shreds the wedding dress and utilize the turnicate

Calm down son, anger never helped no one
Plus you got half a mind to give back what you’ve stolen
Swollen heart thumping still, little fire on the grill
And you’ll cook it to perfection till she gets her fill
Kill the bitter feelings filling up your cup of loose change
So driving your ass home won’t turn into a goose chase
She’s a toothache, burnt toast, the bitter end
Of a glitter pen chewed up and spilling ink again
Roast the definition of the love that once existed
Piss in it, leave no traces and leave it glistening
Listen to yourself fool, you ain’t no fucking Nicholson
You’re acting like a glorified baker with no cinnamon
Rhythmic jealousy ain’t worth a felony
You can’t drink in the slammer and your brain is still developing 
The enemy, fucking setting fire to memories
To see the smoke thicken and snicker when all the embers meet
Makes no sense to me, crime rate is already high
What’s another body to count when they’re counting by the dime
Been reaching for a cleaner cup, always dirty some
While I try to sweep the crumbs off the table with my thumb
Goddamn it forgiveness ain’t second nature
Quill to the paper, cut the daffodils and then bag the vapors
Later, fuck bargaining, envious Cesar is here
Somebody better be hiding the axe is somebody gonna be passing the beer
Cheers, abundant like we won the war
Breach of trust overflow, drowning like we sunk the boat
Better than a fucking hail storm in June bitch
I wanna shoot this blunt wrap into your toothless tomb hinge
But I’m a better person mouth closed
And you’re a dead bulb out of light and out-shone
I’m a prisoner to the beauty of your nucleus
So keep me in a sweet cell, dank like a cookie is
Please, sweet manager, open up your heart
Or we could lock up this little love or cut it into little parts
Greif thick enough to cut
Butter cuts smooth but her butt better be tougher

Hatchetwound

Original beat "Docent" by Tommy Fox. Check out his music here:
https://soundcloud.com/thenoskyproject
http://tommyfox.bandcamp.com/album/epitha

it's been quite the short minute since 
i felt a sense of livid timidty
buttocks scorching from the fragility of
the tense effect i seem to produce
when i step into the room
condensing conformity cause
i dunno, would you even tell me if my fly was down
if you're like metallica then, then i must be like primus now
curiously in the cuts
fucker made it in without even buying me lunch
despite the furiously indestructible trust we mustered up
i'm still living vicariously loved
and i'm all like, "i'm really feeling kind of honored
this is the shit i listened to when i was younger"
and now i'm on it
though i never really asked for your permission
please permit me to emit this burrito of admittance that i'm spitting
though the cadence persisting radiance is
nothing more than the bore that you present yourself as
plus you're selfish
daily i wonder why you exist
and hit a brick to my skull when i read your posts on craigslist:
short, young, black male with a knack for getting you pregnant
i'm witty, into comics, and an actor with an endless friend list
so get to know me if you're lonely
before i get MTV big or let TBS own me
while i'm getting stony to forget about the past
he's probably kicking ass and tapping into insomniacs
decently kicking up recent dust that just settled
devil little littering illiterate rebel
embezzling freckles, leveling trebles
penciling in general reveling and nestling deep, keeping that pebble traveling

i'm building a pulley
i'm  building all the shelves
life's being a bully
life's bent 2012

Life's Bent (prod. by Tommy Fox)

Recorded by Sheldon Freeman and Cesar Perez Rosas on a drunken night in the basement of a cabin in Lake Tahoe.

im'a try not to laugh if you try to change me
there ain't no motivation like the love you've been evading
you hate me blatantly, don't you deny this
this city is a place for heroes and you're a sidekick
lately i've been trying to give more than a fuck
but it ain't enough, i suppose i'm still a lonely punk
nothing's ever changed, girls are all the same, they don't know my name
the letters on my fridge are always rearranged
respect yourself: step one of the process
step 2: let go of all your profits
cut yourself open in the window of your office
and find yourself crippled, single, and fucking jobless
i promise one day i'ma try to build a better life
but not today cause i'm ok with bitter times
litter my emotions, meal points, and grief rags
while i imagine you bawling over my beanbag
you think my rap's clean, i know you mean that
and you're on a hike because you got over me fast
living on a nonstop bike ride, night time never gets used right dancing in the limelight
and in hindsight, fuck you i"ll do better
you never understood me and you don't even remember
listen, i never believed in fishing
i'm a goddamn cod sitting frigid in your kitchen
i'm glistening, drowning, dire need of assistance
im'a need to die to get you out of my system

success, i barely escaped death
ain't nothing in my chest but THC and rotten breath
i attest to the half-alive novelist
2:45 spilling ink, stream of conciousness
for the painter lonely without her paper
for the mathematician constantly the remainder
i don't hate, i just blame her
calling all artists, misery is a flavor
operation severing connection ineffective
fuck your shoes, your job, and who you're texting
maybe one day i'll earn enough money
to buy some clean socks and then maybe you'll love me
i've got a dirty mind so my thoughts are getting funky
these lines are for you, maybe you'll become a junkie
trust me, i'm not gonna be alright
i wanna ride my bike into some goddamn car-lights
don't you dare call this rotten piece of lunch meat a heart
tonight i'm drinking, i ain't talking about no singles bar
i don't consider feelings more than a joke either
and you were dead to me before you became a cheater
i've got an egg beater twisting shit into my head again
fucking promiscuous bitch, head on a foreign bed
lying on the comforter, talking about what comes to her
maybe i'm a hint of shame plastered to his undershirt
think about me while you walk around naked
cause you're taken for the night and you
know all about skanking, huh?
but bitch i'm taking up all the space you left inside my aching cup
you left a cut deep and i still taste the blood

Taste Tha Blood (feat. Sheldon)

great gatsby, i hope she'll be a fool
that girl's got a mouth so candy coated cruel
and i'm an addict to the curly, oceanic,
forbidden, ultimate force of the magnet
so i'll be a phantom, dead and operatic
open on the operating table in the attic
it's fucking tragic, i can't even stomach it
third weekend in a row puking while she rummages
i can taste your sadness, fucking average
backing up into the back of a black casket
asking all the maggots if they could be the hatchet
helping me escape but crying's idiosyncratic
manic depressive, bad at impressions
i've got a competition at the table, back for seconds
i'm not repenting, i can want you all i want
and i ain't gonna quit until i got you in my arms
fuck that, i still ain't gonna quit
"happiness is a choice" said the filthy hypocrite
got a lot on the old noggin
we can conversate on a level beyond talking
i can be your man, i can lay you on the sand
i can be the sun beating on your back: tan
tan, tangible out of luck
talking to a statue that i'm so ready to fuck
i ain't trying to burn a bridge with defective matches
i'm scratching at the surface of the ice that you're attacking
don't let me black out again, i want the memory
i want the mexican in me to murder all the enemies
and now they all be selling me what i know i deserve
they don't know i'm mad broke and breathing only for curves

Curves

Been writing poorly since high skool. College drags on.

DISHWASHER

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