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FREE DOWNLOAD! 
Written/recorded by Sage Francis in 2004. Beat by Reanimator. Record Label: http://StrangeFamousRecords.com
FB: http://facebook.com/SageFrancis
Twitter: http://twitter.com/SageFrancis
LYRICS:
By the time the flags rotted off of their antennas,
they were questioning who the real threat is.
Big Brotherly love is the 21st century's plague.
No matter how bloody the glove, question evidence displayed. 

Don't forget what two plus two equals. 
Don't let them upgrade your math no matter what they have as proof of evil. 
Remember when they went after the Jewish people? 
You don't recognize that same black mask as see through? 

Attack of the eagles. If they don't fall dead 
before they reach me, I'll be damned if I don't shoot one in its bald head. 
Fuck what we're force fed. All I ever wanted 
was a warm bed and a house that wasn't haunted. 

I'd rather die for a cause than to die just because 
we exhausted natural resources, forced into wars, 
restoring wasteful ways, keeping other countries poor. 
"Monkey see, Monkey do." I wonder what those fucking monkeys saw. 

Keep rethinking the still-frames in your mind.
I guarantee they will change with time.
Your outline is pixelated with poor resolution while
downtime is simply wasted. You were born execution style.

Head first in a trial. I'll second the motion
'Til the jury's bored to death and puts your neck in a notion.
The situation's volatile. A naked problem child
is trying to find the right clown costume to make his father smile

So he bombs while he tries to tell jokes.
This ain't a false alarm, can't you smell the smoke?
You're in the line of fire where they buy and sell votes.
Our sense of liberty doesn't ring true, stupid. that's why the bell broke.

Trench Coat Mafioso's propel rocks
at recruitment officers and rebel against cops
Until they hurdle infinite circles in small cell blocks. 
Turtle upon turtle 'til they're all shell shocked.

This so-called president got elected in a court room.
With the war efforts of pops he inherited a fortune.
We "talk, talk, talk..." so the veterans of war assume
the revolution stopped. This ain't a protest tune.

"Hey, Bobby...the Masters are back. 
They're up to no good just like the old days.
They played dead when you stood over their grave, Bobby. 
They played dead when you stood over their grave.
"Hey, Bobby...them bastards are back. 
It's our turn to stand over their grave.
I'm a do it right this time...
I'm a wait until their fuckin' skin decays."

You can't roam a lost land as the last existing dinosaur.
There's no escaping ass kickings in these times of war,
replacing apples with hospitals where doctors are hostile,
Killing two pterodactyls with one fossil.

I got you. If they don't fall dead
Before they reach me, I'll be damned if I don't shoot one in its bald head.
Fuck what we're force fed. All I ever wanted,
Was a warm bed...and house that wasn't haunted.

Thumb through novels to have your fingerprints match,
The description of thinking criminals committing innocent acts
of compassion for tired civilians crawling with pistols.
We fired million dollar warning missals.

Force the issues in the back of your head where eyes roll.
Brain wash yourself out of that mind control.
Or act a fool like you're told.
But we won't see no type of justice 'til that bitch removes the blindfold.

This ain't a "Love it or leave it." It's a "Change it or lose it."
I won't sing the anthem of a nation who never faces the music.
Chasing an ever-elusive caveman,
in space ships that make trips to the futures that are name-brand.

Faking progress...but we ain't advanced
Enough to change the posture of our ape stance?
They've got the key to the city but they prefer the break-in entry.
Duck and weave, I'm shedding light in their shadow box to make it empty.

"Hey, Bobby...the Masters are back. 
They're up to no good just like the old days.
They played dead when you stood over their grave, Bobby. 
They played dead when you stood over their grave.
"Hey, Bobby...them bastards are back. 
It's our turn to stand over their grave.
I'm a do it right this time...
I'm a wait until their skin decays."

Attack of the eagles. If they don't fall dead
Before they reach me, I'll be damned if I don't shoot one in its bald head.
Fuck what we're force fed. All I ever wanted
was a warm bed... 

There's nothing scarier than the human stories I tell ghosts.
Chilling accounts with my tongue frozen to bed posts.
The catharses of carcasses whenever threats are close,
Shows a heartlessness that doesn't register on stethoscopes.

Sell your hopes for a homeland security chart,
Until your sense of self is broke and no man's pure in the heart.
Preventive detention for the folks who never left home.
Tensions have grown into a 24/7 red zone.

Scare tactics have got you under control.
The fear factors of a color code. The uppers know
They can't hold you down without having anchors attached.
"It's all the same." Nah, balls and chains on ankles don't match.

So drag your torso back to the off road.
We may have lost the fashion battle, but we ain't lost the wardrobe.
Go window shopping for your next free meal,
'Cause when we start the revolution all you'll probably do is steal.

"Hey, Bobby...the Masters are back. 
They're up to no good just like the old days.
They played dead when you stood over their grave, Bobby. 
They played dead when you stood over their grave.
"Hey, Bobby...them bastards are back. 
It's our turn to stand over their grave.
I'm a do it right this time…
I'm a wait until their fucking skin decays."
http://SageFrancis.net

SAGE MERCH

"Hey Bobby" - Sage Francis (with lyrics)

Window seat and dead of night, awake, I saw a frightening form.
Horrific notion. Pacific Ocean. I flew above a lightning storm.
Spectacular the view, my fellow passengers were deaf and blind.
Fast asleep and dreaming of the ones they love and left behind.
Next to me, a woman who was far away and in repose.
I wondered if she dreamed of me and of the secrets of her clothes.
I flew above a lightning storm...
Shooting star alert! The heart asserts itself and I'm so hard it hurts.
Down below, the lightning flashed and then again, but more intense.
Red and blue and green and silver sky so silent and immense.
Beside myself and wishing I could jump without a parachute.
Knowing that you're somewhere else. Wishing I was there with you.

Falling down, it feels so good.
I know I'm going to die someday.
Shining right now at my brightest.
I just want to fly away.

I flew above a lightning storm and tried to pull myself apart.
The woman sitting next to me took notice of my flaming heart.
So much blood and agony. She felt the heat and asked me why.
I said, 'I know I'm going to die. I don't want love to pass me by'.
Chains of lightning thrilled the nighttime and my mouth was filled with gold.
I met my hero even though you shouldn't do it, so I'm told.
Her perfect legs, I longed to touch them. If only life could be so easy.
I cried and cried and didn't care because I knew no one could see me.

Falling down, it feels so good.
I know I'm going to die someday.
Shining right now at my brightest.
I just want to fly away.

Metanoia. Lightning strike. Empyrean, my soaring palace.
Through the window, beauty greater than aurora borealis.
Poppies growing from my shoulders. Targeted and safe from harm.
Her legs will carry me to heaven. I run a blade along my arm.
Swans were swimming through the fire that kissed the blue impossible.
So hard it hurt, the fuselage flew smoothly through my obstacle.
I flew above a lightning storm, silver, blue and green.
Untouchable, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Falling down, it feels so good.
I know I'm going to die someday.
Shining right now at my brightest.
I just want to fly away.
---
Written & produced by Joëlle Lê (Greetings From Tuskan)
Lyrics & vocals: Rich Terfry (Buck 65)
Additional vocals: Joëlle Lê
---



Ethereal Love

Disorder Prod. by Ripe

A dope ass track for you to kick it to while you ride your public transportation. Produced by Ripe

Route 2 North Prod. by Ripe

All or Nothing prod. by Ripe

This is the original version of "Slow Man" by Sage Francis which was completely reworked and re-recorded over different music for the LI(F)E album: www.tinyurl.com/sageLIFE This version has more of an aggressive feel as well as AN ADDITIONAL VERSE! The legendary Buck 65 produced the beat. Currently available for download at http://strangefamousrecords.bandcamp.com/track/slow-man-stance

www.FACEBOOK.com/SageFrancis 
www.Twitter.com/SageFrancis 
www.STRANGEFAMOUS.com

Sage Francis SLOW MAN STANCE (prod by Buck 65)

A track off of the sprouting seed EP produced by Righteous foot. Felt like posting it up separately cause it was no doubt one of my favorite tracks to write for and rhyme to for the EP, Big ups to Righteous Foot

Invitation to earth prod. by Righteous Foot

I Write For(spoken Word)

Purchase on iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/gb/album/distraction-pieces/id461509289

Via: http://hiphopisntdead.net/

Scroobius Pip // "Broken Promise"

How did it bleed? It bled like fire.

Je retiens l'écume de ton sommeil.

When the winds are changing, begins the raging.
Sins are strange and within the range.
When we're being electrocuted, dreaming and echoes disputed,
Who can sleep at a time like this?

When we're being chased by devils, erased by levels,
Revels in the chaos, embraced by rebels,
Lives are being darkened, knives are being sharpened.
Who can sleep at a time like this?
The sun is exploding, gun is unloading.
A girl with a sense of fun and foreboding.
Tie my wrists and find my kiss.
Who can sleep at a time like this?

Reviens- moi à ton réveil.

When the weights are lifting, the plates are shifting,
Places are traded and fates are drifting.
When Audrey is Hepbrun, an obvious left turn,
Who can sleep at a time like this?
Citizen and number. Minimum and younger.
A word in private. A synonym for hunger.
Tie my wrists and find my kiss.
Who can sleep at a time like this?

Actions mechanical. The fashions are flammable.
Cameras are flashing. Passions are animal.
Deeply sacred. Uniquely vacant.
Sleepy hatred. Completely naked.
Fade to black and highlight red.
The accepted voidage of a finite bed.
Tie my wrists and find my kiss.
Who can sleep at a time like this?
----
Written & produced by Joëlle Lê (Greetings From Tuskan)
Lyrics & vocals: Rich Terfry (Buck 65)
Additional vocals: Joëlle Lê
-


Full Moon

Mainly rhyming , i also make beats and scratch, doing what i love and will be recording the progress a.k.a Atma. Link to my beats page below. I make music for your head, i don't care about your ego. Email me @  Math4hiphop@gmail.com for any inquiries or anything you'd like to say

Instagram: Math_Atma

Disorder Prod. by Ripe

Math(Atma)