handcrafted

fair game

a cranky invention

beat by kiluhmanjaro ⬇️

https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/Bqnsu

stems

midnight release

signal

l'ennui

wouldn't have it

feel the comfort and a healthy sense of fear

UNCLE!

maybe let's sit for awhile...




Truce
I need that B like a boost
Walking with mansa
My kind too achieved 
To be any use to you today
 
Know the movement aimless
No, I never made music awake
Too indecisive
Too many cravings to fight
So few I could sate

No way to deny it
Free will for the griot
My being a fatal design
We stay undefeated
Our feet feel no weight over lines

Our feet feel no weight
Overstimulated
My presence a takeover
Yerba and Maker’s like prayer
Your word had my certainty waiver
My kind fighting curses

Biding with paintings and verses
Deny me of layers
Strip me of wire
I die fore I live in denial
Maybe we sit for awhile

Maybe we sit for a while
I take me a million
I can be still in the sand
Baby it’s filthy inside
Honing a sliver of chance
Know I can will it to life

Spar with a bic in my hand
Scarred in the image of christ
Might let you borrow the body
But we can bicker over price


TRUCE!

i wrote this song in 10 seconds while jumping out of a helicopter

mfn lyrics:

(Verse)
Bow-legged and overgrown crevices
Noting a bold X and just 
Doting on cozy severance
Cozened, then blow progression 
Have and lack the yen for buckets
Of smackable breasts, honey, crisp
Fuck, I’ma jump the gun again
Underweight, underwhelmed
Underpaid, it’s correlation
Boring, painful, maybe if these gains were microwavable
No bronze belt, I’m honored with goshes
And my arms arms smell
I spit and it resonates
You could say I raise the barbel
It’s not second, the natural half’s in practicing
Dazzle me with your pack
And perhaps I’ll address the applicants
Adderall and acid account for a thousand accidents
Shit talking prick took a laxative up the ass and said
Maybe if your dick were as big as your fucking ego
I’d be more inclined to flaunt the iron
Toss these cold totino's pizza rolls
And boast a D-cup
Preach to the happy mediums
I work out when my mattress 
Starts to sink into me, bro
Don’t you ever get tired
Of running your fucking mouth
As often as I gobble Tyson’s 
I’m sure I’ll live and die 
With all my current privileges
As long as I never visit
Younen or his equivalents
I exercise my right to abuse 
All of my expenditures
I sweat and curse
But only when I’m cramping 
On some naked girls
My gods find shelter at the local Waffle House
Rest assured, I never take communion 
Unless I bottom out
Submerged in syrup
I fervently gurgle stuffing
A burgeoning urge to work out
It burns and I blurt FUCK IT
Three pokes had seemed so scrawny 
But the leather blares anomaly
You shoulda flossed all your teeth
You shoulda meditated instead of praying
You’re emulating a paradoxical frog
Embarrassing, impatient
It’s not me, it’s the spice
It’s the porn 
You see me on the sofa
I’ll just see you on the fourth

(Hook)
Let’s work arms and
Let’s work core
Scales on bone, not sore
Bought a new scale through a wormhole
Lost for a second
Armchair? Tell me more
Let’s work out for a minute 
Till the sun meets stars
Out for a minute till the sun meets stars
Out for a minute till the sun meets stars
And we’ll see that sun 
Closer than we have before

I Work Out In July (Prod.OnAir)

really took me 7 months to make a 16 bar smh

mfn lyrics:

There’s no matter that could make my bones shatter
Only battle ready cats with focus that won’t add up
I track in the same path that makes the grown folk blow shrapnel
Accurate in any cross but that snow stacks 
Some tap away for more taps
Fine actor dragged by poor act
I relish in a stanza 
That’s grows as far as the tab stop
Hoping my cousin took away from Cartoon Network mascot
My nigga be coming home from school wondering what his ass was taught
My throat don’t sing
My phone don’t ring
It never has, but I would rather feel lonelier than be lonely
Don’t hold on 
Don’t hold me
Homie it’s okie dokie, I’m peachy
The seams breathe like Rooney’s thigh
You be fiending to think like me be 
Drinking tea for my sunrise
Audience bring me lemon juice
Audience stay upset when my heart and lip be impregnable
I’ve left a clue on every head 
The proof is under my hat
It’s time to go, but we’ll be right back

friends (prod.Joe Corfield)

3 niggas making 3 nigga music

mfn lyrics:

(Mack)
Blasting, hardly accurate
I could knock your legend with my average shit
And pass it off as just a random hit or even accident 
You’re slacking off adding fleeting z’s to my alphabet with biter bars
You might get lit up and smoked like cigars
You call it trying hard
I call it tryna fail
I'm tryna make a throwaway 
While hammering some final nails into coffins
You're whole career is a bargain
You’re still talking, I don’t have the ear for your jargon
Look, I got a flock of ducklings tryna follow me
I wrote these bars donning a karate gi
While stalking a lava lamp holding socrates
My audience is probably gawking like “Donny is such a novelty”
There’s not a single yellow highlight on my genius pages
I speak a language that only reaches me when I scream into faces “repeat the phrase bitch”
That’s what I call talking shit
I could salt a gnat with all the compliments

(Xao)
Hopping through dimensions fuck a portal                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            
Like heavy bass so distorted
 no nite bitch but i stay forted 
Fuck a problem  just ignore it
Just cut it off like a killa
Too good to be true like anime without the filler      
Stay triggered like automatics
So cold like abandoned attics
Shit hit like a dirty mallet
I come and knock down a palace
Filled with misery and malice 
Wait
So in the moment like deadly poison my mind so potent
Blow up like kamikaze
Heard u was scared of explosions
Stuck in the motion like waves in the ocean 
I cannot control it
I just face it and own it
I just hope i dont blow it
I hope i dont blow it
Venoms killing me quickly i just hope i dont show it
As soon as they see a weakness they finna seize the moment
Aint no such thing as forgiveness aint no room for atonement
Set it off like the fire nation 
Make moves like its animation
I know that they steady waitin they wanna see a slip up
Sorry to disappoint but like a flame i only lift up
Tryna test my flow like a beyblade u can get ripped up

(GODFLOW)
I ride alone 
Survive alone 
Im not gon die alone 
I got the microphone 
The lights is on 
And I’m a lycanthrope 
Turn the lights off 
I’m shining cuz I’m
Cleaner than some Lysol
I’m stuck to my flaws 
Just face the lightning 
when I write bars
I break the light bulb 
Then pray the demons 
Feast on my soul 

Sick of the sun 
I think the time 
has come to ash it out 
I dropped a couple tabs
And now I’m feeling 
like an acid hound 
Howl at the the moon 
I slice em up and 
then I pass em out 
I’m blacking out 
Losing track of ounces 
And my cash amounts 
I’m crashing down 
Heading to the pavement 
Just to crack the ground 
I hope that when I smash 
And shatter havoc comes 
To match the loud

Shittalking ft. XAO, GODFLOW

It’s that epigone letting off
Friends like a pentagon
Sessile, nonsensical, extra pod in his reddened socks
Bred to plaster NEVER on the lattice
Thrash with tennis ball on tennis ball on tennis ball
Catch is more like fetch a dog
Rap until it starts to reap a challenge
Until I part these barbed wire barracks 
I’ll bark at the cats who started this
Hashtag going, hashtag gone
Ash still peppers up the carpet
Drop a 20 for a lavish thrill
When Bic’s your panacea 
Dreaming in orange and white is normalized
You start to eat your scabs and bleed a cordial line once a day
What a drag, what a shame, what’s for lunch 
What nice weather we’re having in cuffs and chains
The mutiny geared, stupidly garbed farce hears the world in echoes
So maybe swap holy hyphens for hellos
I’m rambling on and on and on 
And honestly it feels more biopsy than biology
We’re harboring a cyclopean vase of grease 
You’re swallowing the vomit 
Hope the worm was worth the snarling audience 
Squawk if you hear me 
Bock if you hope to kill a few parakeets with a missile 
You pray that it won’t split in two

Parakeet

Parakeet (prod.sxmniak)

felt 30 ft tall writing this

lyrics:
Back from the aperture
Reimagine actual birth
Retract at the lack of a girth
You’re pellets in tracts, hors d'oeuvres, tragic, the worst 
If my greatest weakness grazed on maize and chia
Wouldn’t dirt be dandy
Back to lurk and scramble all vermin standing
Prefer my wurmples candied
Regurgitate the earthy worthlessness 
Exterminate first, ask questions when you’ve earned them, mate
You're in emerging state 
My terms could birth a crater
Stainless steel impersonator, kidney, shell, liver impaler
Save your breath, divert the anger
I’ve got a saber grin
So shield your eyes or take it in
These niggas serve as flavor mix
Orangutans make greater kin than you niggas
Who claim about 2 figures
Go tasty on fruit
I’m making music for the cereal-with-fork-in-it type
Reporting forty lines snorted 
And cleaned my storage before you’d even recorded it
I’m more or less affordable than daunting
Cop me if you so please
But don’t expect my slimy trail to grow your trees
No, sir
Can’t go a verse without a crowd of slow murmurs
This that ayahuasca tea atop the stove burner
This that die or wander fiending for water
The demons, the monsters
MD's a god, just see if they'll stop him
Record these beatings as often as I speak on huffing and safe sex
Replaying Friends got me waiting on the day I’ll fake death again
So long as these kiddos clicking play
Consider me as candidate for center frame
You’re snails on my dinner plate

snails@6

the girl from Webster

lyrics:
I’ve been on some crazy shit 
Thankfully no one gave me no training 
I’d aim at these fakers from a to z
Playing with fire, I’d dance with the devil
But Satan a bitch, he just ain’t down to play with me
I’ve been shaping these bars like it’s butter
You wouldn’t believe what I wonder
And you’re gonna need to recover
From punches and pinches
I’m breathing in sputters and hisses
Like Heather O’Rourke
I might get sent sent to the morgue
On the level of Thor
You’ve tried to mention before
How I’ve been hella ignored
I be the menacing force
Sleeping and crouching like I was in Nam
Throwing flames with petroleum stored in the skull
I be grabbing the horn by the bull
With the red in my eyes
My cup empty or full
I could never decide
I just drink the shit
Genius takes time, yall’s immediate crying 
I’m sweating and bleeding 
This isn’t for me 
Ain't no reason 
I do what I do so just take it or leave it, bitch  
I be rippin a beat into pieces
It’s Macky D 
Hack and and I thwack for thneeds
You could imagine me 
Packing a pound of weed
I’m getting fried like the day after Thurs 
It’s the happy meal happening
I deliver the duns
Hit yo girl with my middle and index and thumb
I’m on a roll
Like I came with the rims and the hub
Like shit, I’m love
I took the mic on a date
We had a real nice conversation
Did not even have to coerce
Who said I’m not allowed to smash on the first
Or the second or third 
And so on and so on
I’m not here to heal 
Ain’t no doctor or god
But I’m close to the latter
I get imitated, like oh shit, I’m flattered
I stay at home for the rapture
Niggas start runnin like stragglers
Tables might turn on the tortoise
Goldilocks shit in the porridge
Hansel gets bit by the old witch
The crow getting shot by the poet
I’m over it

Heather O'Rourke

(Verse)
I'm planting four hotels where you claim your spot
I laid out an EP I openly mock
I be packing this meat like I’m stuffing my pasta
And naturally it gets covered in sauce
I’m distributing guns to Iraq just for fun
Won’t get clocked cause it’s sung in a song
You hear scraping cans, better run nigga
Walk if you wanna get rocked by niggas who holding samsungs in their pockets
You smoking exotic
I’m smoking my smarties
My plugs only cover ear holes when you’re talking
Go back to your boys
I’m back to boyardee
Donald’s a thief
Cocking my BB and rob you free
All my pistols are nautical themed
I’m just forcing a smile like I’m flossing my teeth
Hit the dong and then go for a walk in the street
Some fans are just bad liars
Y’all were gassing up a trash fire
But my lab writing is a tad brighter
Take my pills as cyanide in apple cider
Writing tired so half a mind don’t seem as bad
Require you to bow polite
Slice my abdomen to stack em high
Bloom with my algae 
Lazy Oak the capital
Palace of tacky rhymes
I take my glove off and slap you silly
Fucking with me's a death wish for gnats and flies
Speaking english mixed with pesticide
Come taste the ravioli on this breath of mine
My twitter feed is cataloging petty crimes
When y'all pay your fines
Go and get a life like your head was levitating
Scarfing italian, I never make it
I garnish that shit with some SPAM cuts
I can make you my grandson
Leave you speechless and dip like Sinead O'Connor
When I rap I'm pacing like I'm TED talking
Not impressed with comments like “go check my songs” for the most part
Gotta throw tomatoes at your profiles
Oughta scrape em off for my own sauce
I probably weigh more with my clothes off
You need something to choke on
I got beef for you, cans of bourguignon 
I got coins to pocket, you in total darkness
All you rap niggas roaches multiplying in rows and columns 
When your shit comes up I lower my volume
Y'all shrivel alone
I'ma grow with my niggas 
Go home if you're not one

Chef Boyardee Ravioli (prod.Xao)

I wrote this on my back



That kick left a bad bruise
Man packing hits
Batter lips, whip some ass too 
Man smack a face
Yeah that pill left a bad taste

We aggravated, throwing rap to cadence
Imagine fame like that shit could drown me
Play this shit while crafting shit to burn gases in 
I'm proud to be a sadist 
I've been madly creating
Got boundless space in this batshit escape room
Practice by eating rappers like brain food
I rub my hands so to stay warm
It's daily demand to play cool
I'm taking command
2018 was making of man
I'm making up for his wasted time 
And still wasted off his grams
I write with golden hands
Ain't met one sober fan
Sipping out this mocha can
No energy to sacrifice 
To cracking your head open and

That kick left a bad bruise
Man packing hits
Batter lips, whip some ass too 
Man smack a face
Yeah that pill left a bad taste

Yeah that self importance faded like Slater
No foreign whip to take us to our Canaan 
That taste was shit 
But it's all I could taste 
So who could blame me
Been my most dangerous 
Don't hang me yet
Won't let what kills me tell you if I was ok or needed priests
What thirteen letter names do I have a craving for this week 
Most importantly 
That pill left a bad taste

Bad Taste

Confetti

by the step

u have found demare'a dumping grounds 

twit & insta- @demareatunes
email - demareamusic@gmail.com3

demare'a

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