WORD?

Distances

Float

Lunch With Blockhead

Deep Puddle Dynamics - Heavy Ceiling

"CLAPP'D" CREDITS
Raps by Mike Mictlan
Produced by RedVelvet Beats for NAIMA
Co-Produced by Cecil Otter and Lazerbeak

Doomtree’s Mike Mictlan announces the release of HELLA FRREAL. Set for release on October 27th, the 10-track album features Mike’s rapid-fire lyrics over larger-than-life production from Cecil Otter, RedVelvet Beats, 2% Muck, 1990, Mike Frey, JuanL, and Lazerbeak, with guests Greg Grease, Ceschi, and Aby Wolf all along for the ride.
  
Mictlan has long been known as a spitter; he writes technical patterns and can deliver them at speed. He's also a natural performer--never plainer than when he takes center stage at First Avenue and ignites the entire room with a dance, a look, a gesture--he knows just how long a pause will springload an audience so it's primed to erupt at the next punchline. On HELLA FRREAL we hear the Mike we know, harder and sharper. We hear a new Mike too--we're let behind the curtain for a few earnest moments that were harder to find on his previous releases.  

HELLA FRREAL is currently available for pre-order from iTunes and the Doomtree webstore. Each pre-order will receive lead single “CLAPP’D” as an instant grat track.  Those who order from the Doomtree webstore will also receive a signed digi-pak CD, access to a private LiveStream chat with Mike, and a HELLA FRREAL sticker. The Doomtree webstore will also offer a deluxe pre-order that includes everything in the standard version, plus a screen-printed patch and a one-of-a-kind individualized t-shirt exclusive to this pre-order.  

Lyrics:
It’s all good
No it ain’t
Cuz I’m thinking exactly the polar opposite
That’s just something that we gotta say when we wanna cover up
Or turn a bad thing, positive
They shootin –
but nobody made em look
They gotta ghetto life fetish
Middle class circus
at a Lower class zoo
Quarter life conflict we all
Drug War Veterans
Not everybody from the hood is a killer or a dealer or a villain
Everybody in the hood wanna do something better
For they life and they children
Anybody ever tell you different
They prolly lying tryna sell you something
Ain’t nobody tryna hear that woofin
Not a motherfucker in this world’ll tell me nothing
& somebody gonna play that game
THEY SAY IT”S ONLY FOR THE BIGBOYZ + GIRLZ 
But every game is really played the same
You gotta play it if you wanna get a turn
Hundred grand in the hand
what chu look at the pistol end for?
Spin it, close your eyes
All you hear is a click
Click – Click Click
HEAR NO CLAP
FEEL NO HEAT
CLICK then….
Whatchu gonna do now?
Click lock shoot bang ya dead (man) GOT CLAPP”D!!
Give the MANN- a HANND he might get CLAPP’D!!

It was a cruel summer
now get ready for a cold winter
Hot burners from slow dinners
Fast Streets
Private Soldiers for dough lenders
Whiter the crack, the wider the white of the eyes in em
And the meth venom
The dope sent em down the river and thru the hoods to red door clinic
Its no different from inherited wealth but
We only inherit the struggle that goes with it
Post no bills Ghosts in a shell system
Scapegoats they worship the lone shepherd
Willingly manipulated -- low effort
But who gives a fuck when you're broke, frozen in gold
Somebody tell me why Abdulle got shot
Was it the feds? Was it a plot?
All I know is I’ma hold his spot
Don’t even trip young bruvv
Hatchmarks in the clot
Last seconds on the clock
Tell em to Shoot for the moon
but not to aim at the block
nuthin bout a glock ever show me
how to Work a plan
CLAIM MY SPACE
Call it State Of Mind-Kurdistan

Whatchu gonna do now?
Click lock shoot bang ya dead (man) GOT CLAPP”D!!
Give the MANN- a HANND he just got CLAPP’D!!

Mike Mictlan "CLAPP'D"

Mike Mictlan + Lazerbeak "Prizefight"

The new album ALL HANDS in stores 01.27.15 www.doomtree.net

MY OWN NATION
Produced by Paper Tiger and Lazerbeak Additional production by Cecil Otter Guitar by Jake Hanson
(Sims)
I mean it, I live it / find a niche and then run with it / walk on the wing don’t flinch at the wind / even when that plane is tailspinning / Believe that when I leave I’m going to leave grinning, gritty / city different, singing like a spinning prop—stop, back to the beginning / Those Airwalks were no paradox, pushed my Powell past the Band Box / told my momma being landlocked on this blacktop was just not me / I never cared what gravity planned, I had my own design on a renegade thought / I escaped and I found me a clan but didn’t get away clean, I took a couple shots / I’ve been beat down but I smile like it’s my world, my wild life / I’m in flight, I’m sound bites and that’s my science applied right / and I live like fuck it, those rules are fake and they don’t apply / I’m going to shine until death unplugs it / I’m going to hang my letters in the sky
(Mike)
It’s the guilt of gold teeth, king shit / Lord of the Fly, EXU / Brillo, boppers, helicopters / hella choppers, hello coppers / Robbers got the jump say how high / Suspended animation casting shadows over the sun blind / from the light coming in from the outside / Grip the ground with both feet, hold tight / kiss the pound or the fists will fight / Feast or famine, at least the beast is rabid / increase the peace or cease the madness / Each is own but you eat the bone / the meat alone could bleed a stone / catch a 2 Piece or a Junior Spesh in my element way out my zone / Pro rate the program, slap pros / pop em off propane huff boy Space Cadillac / Auralac gutter punk class voyeur, Chef Boyar do tha deed for ya / Oye loco, bring the Coco Chanel covered in Soco / Cattle brand you a logo
(Hook)
And I fly a flag of my creation / I got my own nation / I’m in my own nation / I’m in my own / And we go for broke, no hesitation / What we want we take it / While they out there waiting / We on our own
(Dessa)
Bang for the buck—venison / Clean shot and a little luck, fed again / Don’t take much / off grid, off crutch / Let the wolves eat what the kids won’t touch / And I sweep my tracks behind me / take only what we earn / Better hope they can’t find me / learn real quick real witch won’t burn
(Stef)
I been gone / I been out there out here grinnin / been fuckin with the lights on / I been killing that I’m not livin that bullshit shit for years, bruh / We don’t even live here, bruh / I be leavin with the wind / I believe in getting in where the fuck you want / whether you fit or you build, bruh / Motherfuck wait / Giddyup or give it up or whatever / just gotta fill up the plate / more than keep up the pace / gotta kill up the race
(Hook)

DOOMTREE "My Own Nation"

Instagram : www.instagram.com/baldejniyy
TikTok:www.tiktok.com/@baldejniy
Spotify:open.spotify.com/artist/7gqk6WUPaFJdeYmTONdXYl
AppleMusic:music.apple.com/ru/artist/baldejniy/1812267166
YoutubeMusic www.youtube.com/channel/UCjSW_Ozy2Vkze5WI1K__Qqw

Intro:
Это не лирика — это контейнер с реальностью, прям в твою дверь.
Конец года, сука, а мы всё ещё рвём микрофоны,
словно пытаемся пробить крышу этого города.

Verse 1:
Я влетаю в бит, как мусора в хату без стука.
Грязь на кроссах, холод в голове, пустота в кармане —
как полки в “маркете” после комендантского.

Мой флоу — смесь дешёвого спирта и бензина,
дымный коктейль районных легенд.
Пока вы выкладываете сторис,
я считаю, сколько дней до аванса
и сколько звонков ещё проигнорирую от военкомата.

Пятиэтажки смотрят пустыми глазницами,
балконы забиты хламом, как головы тех,
кто ещё верит в что раньше было лучше.

Запах плесени, семок, пережжённой проводки —
район, где каждый второму должен,
и каждый делает вид, что всё нормально.

Выходишь во двор — сразу:
“привет, братан, позычешь пятак?”
Да я сам должен всем, но продолжаю идти вперёд,
потому что пауза тут равна поражению.

Chorus:
Это не big city — это Кременчуг, самый тёмный бронкс на карте.
Здесь не выживают — здесь спорят с судьбой на повышенных тонах.
Это не small town — это полигон после взрыва.
Каждый второй тут — фитиль,
каждый первый — уже горит.

Verse 2:
Мой стиль — когда жизнь давит,
а ты всё равно поднимаешься и смотришь ей в глаза.
Двадцать пять, а устал так, будто сорок за плечами.
Но я не продаюсь — слишком дорого стою
для ваших “патриотических” лейблов.

Мой контракт — надпись кровью на стене подъезда,
а не бумага с логотипом.
Ты качаешь попу в тиктоке,
я качаю район,
и он отвечает басами, как боксёр в клинче.

У меня нет спонсора—
только знакомые по два-два-восемь,
шлют приветы из мест,
где лампочки тусклее, чем луна за окном.

Их биты — это стуки в голове ночами.
Мой голос — нож для тех, кто хоронил андер.
Я его поднял, когда родился,
и снова — когда понял, что назад дороги нет.

Verse 3:
Мне не нужны стадионы —
мне нужны подъезды, где пацаны включат мой трек
и будут орать куплеты громче салюта.

Мне не нужны миллионы —
мне нужно, чтобы мама перестала считать каждую монету.
Мне не нужны таблоиды —
мне нужно, чтобы те, кто нас списывал,
сами легли в яму и закрыли крышку.

Это Кременчуг.
Здесь мечты тонут в лужах вместе с окурками.
Летом плюс тридцать и воняет мусоркой,
зимой минус десять и воняет всё тем же.

Но я включаю бит и читаю —
потому что если остановлюсь,
значит проиграл окончательно.

Outro:
Глок в ящике стола.
Дождь стучит по подоконнику.
Город не спит.
И я — тоже.
Тох..Похуй.

23x10

Corona

🔥 BACK FROM DEATH.🔥

CECIL (Hook) 
We got cracks in our armor / Got cracks in the ceiling / and this axe that we’re wielding will react when we’re feeling that / Crack / Attack / Attack and we’re on you like a Mack truck Your Honor / We are that fucking filthy 

SIMS 
It’s 2000 and self destruct and everybody’s yelling that shit is all fucked / Yuck / I never liked the construct of that square wheel / Like “money ain’t real” / …wait…but that ain’t real / ...Oh, now I get it / We could take it all and split it / Give it to the village / Doomtree villains / out for the killing…no kidding / Good man but I went a bit bitter when they took a little bit of the dinner off my plate / High stakes / Okay / I’ll play / but it ain’t your game / and it ain’t your rules cuz it ain’t your world / and I brought my crew / We some dirty lip fuck your rules living ugly goons / It’s no kings / No way / You’re so vain / you probably think it’s about you / Well it is and it ain’t / and it ain’t, but it is / I go so fucking nasty no restraint / Well I get props and I play it off / I see em hot but I fade em all / Hello world it’s L.O.P. / B.T.Z. / Keep your ring / Move out my way, let me do my thing / let me do my thing / Imma do my thing 

MIKE 
Friction lock rivet / Goonish as all fuck / Prudent to all stunts / Proving the laws of logarithm / Like the wag of a dog’s tail / Bark back / Woof! / Light the rag on your cocktail / Spark that / Champ on that slang chop / Chump on that chomp rap / Prolly a stomp sack / Man gimme my prop back / Hold your tooth to my non dap / I ain’t no Diddy boy / That Beni know we go scrimp dance / Dougie don’t stop that! / Señor Frreal Z 3 R zero / None other, who’s kooler / Hoola-hooping thru bank 0’s / Hewlett packing, loogie yacking on Don Hero’s / Bomb appearance / Nights in Paris / raw dogging cross limos / Toss demos / Snot rockets blow up the sub-labels / Long tables / Calling shots on a crowd potato / The slang mongrel with fanged tonsils / We slay goblins / Gayngly gayng violent / Wrangling fake monsters (Hook) 

STEF 
What’s up? / No kings / No love for your made-up things / In the paint but it ain’t no game on the wall with a little complaint / Leave that stain / Weave through cities dodging rain no thing but an open door / It’s yours / No lie but you gotta get dirty man fix your pride / We some preach em real, reach em, steal em from low ideals type dudes / with a stepped up set of skills and an ick style so kill that wills update daily / No frills or pilled up babies / No posture phony just rock solid unfuckwitable dropped knowledge / No love for the bull horns give em / Thorns get em in / Swarm, let em make friends with a storm / Buddy up get close to the war / Insides out, no love for the boring / Naw, bored / and I bet the hearts off and beating under hardwood flooring / Poor man’s Poe (Hook)

Doomtree "No Way"

Doomtree

Related tracks