What About Us

cadence check? no half-steppin' on my grind/
lo & behold--what is this catchin' my eye?//
it’s my first love, baby and I'm sweatin' the sight/
plugged or not, yo’—tonight? I am wreckin' this line//

campin' the same bench, so I begin my slide/
fake yawn, stretchin' arms, cozy next to the mic//
yo', I stay castin' lines until I getta bite/
kick the wordplay uppa notch on the belt--extra tight//

yo', this is for all my 80's babies/
no hand outs, Generation-X, we chase dreams//
made read-only—can't nothin' save me/
write me off? this ain’t taxes--don't be hasty//

DO NOT DISTURB!  VIRTUOSO IN TRAINING!!/
I stay sucker-free and they call me crazy//
catch me slippin'? never--ah'ight maybe/
but even if you do, I'm outta order--can't play me//

on my paper route style, I deliver onna daily/
no flakes on my a-team--save them for pastries//
I'm colder than polar, don't need no A/C/
leavin' cats without a trace--authentic paintings//

‘ey, B! my main scheme on some ab-ab/
Simple but nice—so you can try and hate me//
Butchu’ll eatchur words—alphabet soup so tasty/
Man, I’ll touch these kids—nevermind the phrasing//

Hear, ye—hear, ye, here to hear a story/
I grab that mic and mark my territory//
I would’ve been a fan butchur lyrics bore me/
so your brand of music ain’t for me—I’m really sorry// 


Protect Ya Neck II (The Jump Off)

just messin' around...watched Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy this past weekend and Davy Jones' theme is begging for a proper remix.  This is the best I could find and wrote this verse today.  It grew so organically and it's been a while since I did a piece focusing on wordplay.

I hope y'all enjoy!


Lyrics:
I ain't a gamblin' man but when I do--I wage war/
I got more 5-star apps [5-star raps] than the google play store//
a thunder head looms above, I walk under it--it's my brain storm/
I’ma lead this human race like an official pace car//

Flow like the rain swarms! wanna face off with me—then brace for it?!/
‘cause when I face forward—it’s the only time I *FRONT* and it’s like a claymore//
Ain’t gotta go to mickey D’s to eat M-C’s but still gotta taste for it/
I put the pen to paper and yell “…by the power of Gray Skull.”//

I’m out in the field like famine & drought—just killin’ beets [beats]/
[Bars for life] and mine never run out--mortal kombat flawless victory//
out here like strippers—tryin’a get a-bill-a-tease [abilities] sans the skrilla, B!/
Bars within bars—I’m sharp, comin’ off the head like a guillotine//

With lines so fly the file flight plans when they travel/
Bringin’ more wordplay to the world than Hasbro & Scrabble//
Chess boards for battle, a queen’s gambit and frontline advancin’/
They told me to grow a li’l hair and I did so like Samson//


Davy Jones (B Lett Remix)

[Instrumental]
Flosstradamus - Total Recall

This was more to just showcase some punchlines (which are my favorite part of lyricism). I put my lyrics so you can see the annotations for the punchlines.

I hope y'all enjoy...and yes, this is a redux of the same lyrics from the Davy Jones rendition.

P3@cE! y'all

always down to collab with like-minded hip-hop heads

[Lyrics]
Some say I ain't a gamblin' man but when I do--I wage war/
I got more 5-star apps [5-star raps] than the google play store//
a thunder head looms above, I walk under it--it's my brain storm/
I’ma about to lead this human race like an official pace car//

Flow like the rain swarms! wanna face off with me—then brace for it?!/
‘cause when I face forward, it’s the only time I *FRONT*--and it’s like a claymore//
Ain’t gotta go to mickey D’s to eat M-C’s but still gotta taste for it/
I put the pen to paper and yell “…by the power of Gray Skull.”//

I’m out in the field like famine & drought—just killin’ beets [beats]/
[Bars for life] and mine never run out--MK (mortal kombat) flawless victory//
out here like strippers—tryin’a get a-bill-a-tease [abilities] sans the skrilla, B!/
Bars within bars—I’m sharp, comin’ off the head like a guillotine//

With lines so fly the file flight plans when they travel/
Bringin’ more wordplay to the world than Hasbro with Scrabble//
Chess boards for battle, queen’s gambit and frontlines advancin’/
They told me to grow a little hair and then I did like Samson//

Then I was like “pew…pew”, BLAM!!!!--SON!/
I’ma take the crown hostage and never release it for ransom//
Man child with a tantrum, wreakin’ havoc like a sandstorm/
Decepticon party ‘til Soundwave found tapes and they transformed//

I live by the mic and die by the mic—it’s a helluva code/
So you know I ain’t “effin’” around with this celibate flow//
Challenge accepted? You screwed yourself like sexin’ ya clone/
you got no bars like signal loss onna cellular phone//

so clear the royal calendar today ‘cause you gettin’ dethroned/
With my deluxe breath control when I get in my zone/
So you could go ahead and hold that!! ‘cause I’m lettin’ it go//
Yo’, Hip-Hop Homework, you nice!! Don’t even mention it, yo’//


Total Recall

[Instrumental]
Dave James - Wanna Be Famous

this one is kinda...meh.  Still kinda fun--lotsa energy but notta lotta timing to say what I wanna say about bein' famous.  Dope tune tho.

[Lyrics]
we're all some actors--just some faces in shows/
a buncha busy body types on the biggest stage in the world//
pluggin' into each other's lives and playin' our roles/
thinkin' it's mere coincidence but soon the nations will know//

the wiser we get--the more that makes sense and the stranger it goes/
sit back and watch the master plan from our creator unfold//
nobody wanna hurt but it's from the pains that we grow/
this salvation thing ain't a game and we gotta stake innit, yo'//

so don't sweat the technique 'cause we gotta ace in the hole/
and when He descends from His place on the throne, He's takin’ us home//
it's an endurance game, son, we all gotta race to the goal/
so keep a pace that'll go four quarters and still fill the change inna roll//

‘cause sooner or later somebody gotta pay for the toll/
So I hope you been payin’ attention for the sake of your soul//
And it’s my sincerest wish to see you saved so I pray and I hope/
Two choices and one decision, make the right one or don’t//


Wanna Be Famous

Felix The Dubkat Open Mic Project

instrumental produced by Gustavvson & Sandberg:  "Battle Cry 1"

Lyrics (begin around 0:51):
I practice my craft, kids, for at least a few minutes a day/
and these golden bars were furnace blasted in the good ol’ U-S-of-A!//
I’m robotic with my GOD gift, with lyrics made out of star sh*t/
and why they hard hit like comets and it's more than humans can say//

a locomotive pilot on the track--you'd do well to move out my way/
I blaze tracks while entitled emcees are sidelined, stewin' for praise//
I'm that answer to who's the illest when that comes up in Q-n-A/
I'm hip-hop's rainman--definitely, definitely stupid great//

I ain't a rat, so screw the race--and every time I lose my way/
I tuck my chin and charge the walls, 'cause somehow I'm gettin' through this maze//
y'all snakes in the grass cut from the same cloth from which judas was made/
I despise y'all gossip queens too dismayed to say it to their face/

and what I dare say will make your neck hair raise/
take flight through air space and trigger sirens for bombing air raids//
I'll bless the mic; I'm nice like that--you know I'm kinda very gracious/
while every spit is very dangerous, like pins pulled from hand grenades, kid//

Battle Cry 1

Original instrumental from Grayskul's Deadlivers album, song--"Behold."

It's got a super nasty sample from DMX's "Stop Being Greedy," which originally sampled some old thug nasty joint called "My Hero," from a collabo album by Michael Masser & Diana Ross, according to discogs.com.  Genius sample, man!!

Lyrics:

true battle wrapper--hammer forged armor/
never hadda swim with sharks 'cause I could walk on water//
I'm just gettin' started--that was barely a warmup/
you might bring the hits but I’ll always take it farther//

that's why I swing haymakers that hit way harder/
I walk the way, the real tao of the warrior//
while you throw in towels like you professionally launder/
in the booth when I'm bombin' and it's gettin' hotter//

my lines hit the mic and steam rises--just watch it/
the heat that I'm spittin' turns the studio into a sauna//
I let rounds go and they ain't comin' back--no karma/
female biology, no passport--study a broad--yup//

use a crossbow to get my points across like an archer/
Salmonella, son, yo’--my whole style’s tartar//
So while my lyrics is gettin’ rawer and rawer/
You can’t even get on the air waves with a charter//

killin' lines but bars keep comin' like a zombie rise again/
a giant myth of the deep and flow--the leviathon//
when I [rock] the mic it's like David and Goliath, kid/
people tryin’a get next get stiff armed like the heisman//

straight devour the competition like emcees is vitamins/
When I’m done, give the mic an autopsy ‘cause this is violent//
Cats don’t want none of this, I’m like Daniel in the lion’s den/
A rock hard soldier like them terracotta china men//

I see the continue [cunt in you], like when you die at the arcade/
I got the dopest lines, yo’—I been supplyin’ scarface//
Come at me and your life and your body gonna part ways/
fruits standin’ up to me get fruitstand treatment inna car chase//

Before I spitta verse, I cover my face in warpaint/
I’m comin’ in the mothership, you better call star base//
We could do it your way or we could do it the hard way/
And we’ll call your next of kin to getta ID on these charred remains//


P3@cE!

Behold

note* this is a normalized version, so the vocals won't sound as distorted--I forgot to normalize before the previous upload.


Instrumental/Track producer:  Kick The Habit - Insane


Lyrics:
used to be a skinny pimp, but now I'm just wiry/
hooked up with this beat 'cause I find it inspiring//
put in  work on the mic like there's a sign that say "now hiring"/
twice the MC in one man, like the inverse of siamese//

I'm wack like what--the epitome of irony/
it takes two, a presidential code, and a key to fire me//
with talent for days, yo'--as far as the eye can see/
droppin' straight fire like when gen'pop' is rioting//

my bars expand your mind--the opposite of psychiatry/ [head shrink]
connin' [khan] word play harder than the Mongolian dynasty//
what's in store for you? holla at menace II society/
a righteous MC with dope lyrics is all I'm tryin'a be//

a real boy scout type with an ill MC merit badge/
a style like cucumbers on vine to embarrass cats//
peer at my own reflection and see a lyrical demon starin' back/
I ain't talkin' french braids when I speak on cross-hairs, my man//

Insane

side note:  this is second submission of same track but I cleaned up the recording with a new take and that's the version here

instrumental:  VTZ - The Infection


lyrics:
let's collab, you know, man you on the soundboard and me on the notepad/
call the studio an altar 'cause we about to sacrifice beats like roast lamb/
my mic is megalithic, I scoff at y’all tryin'a hold that/
you need hands across the world, lulz--forget about usin' both hands/

steppin' on you soft emcees, then pickin' y'all out my feet like toe jam/
forget a Meibach, I'm comin' into hip-hop inna wooden horse like the tro-jans/
forget bling, I'm bringin' black back--tactical cam, don't need chrome mags/
murder verses so fast they go from embryo to ghost land in "0.0" flat/

on the mic with that igloo livin', that's right--I don't need no fans/
livin' that chair life, 'cause I stand on my own legs and bow down no man/
and I hold my bars close to my heart, it's like we tryin'a slow dance/
you beat me? I'm in and (prayer)'s out--that's how you know you got no chants [chance]/

I'm takin' you out, dog--yo', it's gonna be a beautiful romance/
and my bars don't hold back neither, yo’, they like the board o' parole, damm!//
I'm already on some version 2 while you can't even get the program/
Guinness tryin'a sign me 'cause they know I'll make any record dope, man//

I swing my mic like Conan, I ain't choose the mic--I was chosen/
I bring the fattest bars [barr] in the whole world, might as well call 'em roseanne//
I don't run tracks either, I do cross-country inna land called "no man's"/
you know me--I don't chew my food, I eat microphones by the whole, fam//

The Infection

instrumental: Black Vikings by Immortal Technique

Note:  been a minute since I last uploaded something, I got a buncha li'l pieces I been puttin' together but I haven't come across any instrumentals I feel like rippin'.  Hence why I be runnin' it back with some older instros but that are savage anyway.  Oh, and this whole rhyme scheme has a massive Canibus influence, reminiscent to his 2000 B.C. days.  I always wanted to do a straight braggadocio from top-to-bottom piece with an emphasis on internal rhymes, so I finally did it.  He's my favorite emcee but super tuff to emulate.

Well, stay tuned, y'all!  P3@cE!


Lyrics:

I spit 'til my lips split, I'll spit 'til the rips quit/
I'll spit 'til the gift that it is no longer is it//
I spit straight illness 'til lockjaws is the symptom/
I spit like the cause is a savage mind with bars that's vicious//

I spit this like I'm the best to ever grippit/
But on the low-key like the Nordic god of mischief//
I spit 'til all my equipment’s beyond lyrical fitness/
I spit squalls that meteorologists could look up and witness//

and think to themselves “damm, this emcee’s good for business!”/
I spit 'til I change high-pressure weather systems//
I’ll spit ‘til the trade winds start dippin’ and shiftin’/
I’ll spit ‘til magnetic poles begin to shear and start driftin’//

but stop givin’ resistance at the command of my diction/
I’ll spit fire 'til my tongue bakes and starts to taste delicious//
I’ll spit ‘til I’m the master--no longer sith apprentice/
I’ll spit with such force I’ll change cipher circles to ellipses//

I spit clips at rates like 500 words-per-minute/
and when the air clears my verses seem more like they’re scriptures//
I spit tremors that shake saints in their boots like it's horrific/ 
but then angels descend and point at me like “This kid!”//

I spit with intellect and quick wit in perfect mixtures/
my punchlines ain’t for dim simps but they really ain’t cryptic//
I spit like the English language is my mistress/
I spit ‘til I’m satisfied and drop the mic like “this terrific!!!”//

My bars ambush your senses/ comin’ outta nowhere to hitcha/
connected together like nunchuks in hands of ninjas//
treatin’ your cognitive faculties like some victims/
so be it--I came to be a ruler--I ain’t talkin’ inches//

I’m talkin’ dethroning kings and 86’in’ all their princes/
my lines never front but they stay in the trenches//
analyze my lyrics inna lab for forensics/
and witness that whatever I spit leaves petroglyphics//

my lines use titanium like a etch-a-sketch for inscriptions/
beyond human comprehension and the study of linguistics//
matter o’ factly, you better off usin’ some ballistics/
yo’, cross me, son—FAMOUS LAST WORDS “IT IS FINISHED!”/

Can I Getta Spitness?

not affiliated with Stronghold--but Breez shared this piece with me back in 2002 on deployment to saudi arabia--so I try to rep' it whenever possible.  Prolly one of the sickest logos in hip-hop history.  Up there with the Naughty By Nature or Wu logo if you ask me.

I'ma music lover--PERIOD!  But my first love is hip-hop!  And I think hip-hop has the highest standard of lyricism, been writin' for years, just started spittin' early 2016, still learning the art of writing to the beat.  So much to say in so little time.

Word Problem

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