Name: Hancock by esquire
Duration: 3 min 11 s
Description: A jazzy feel good bar-trading type beat. Soloistic and simple ElecPiano melody with a live drum break to give the feel of two jazz soloists trading improv over a stringless rhythm section.

A jazzy feel good bar-trading type beat. Soloistic and simple ElecPiano melody with a live drum break to give the feel of two jazz soloists trading improv over a stringless rhythm section.

Hancock

edit: thank you for all the support

prod. by @yungmai
mixed by @tevinwmusic

you are papyrus to a scribe,
your highness, I’d describe you
as the finest kind of wine that ages so well
it rewinds the time

you aren’t wine,
you are the fibers of the vine, divine, you are defined
in Webster’s as the climate of the Caribbean, 
me and you should burn together like we’re fire and kerosene,
you plundered through my chest and stole my heart, a pirate of the fairer being,
Midas sighed and let his sinuses unwind and golden ether culminated into you, 
the lioness to her pride, I heard you sculpted king poseidons diamond trident at his side,
the surest sign of suicide for me would be that you had died, 
the God of Death, Osiris, Isis and her ibis-headed mask
would guide you down a spiral staircase into Cyprus if you asked,
you are the ripest stalk of Cairo-grown papyrus to this scribe, 
I’ve got no stylus to describe you as the finest kind of wine
that ages so well it rewinds the time, no, you aren’t wine,
you are the Carolina pines, and I’m so sorry that you aren’t mine.

to the girl 3 seats over on the f train.

thanks for all the support lately :)
rapgenius (help fill this in): http://bit.ly/2gYB9dT

prod. @steeziakbeats
mixed by @ibr, hit him up for mixing
feat. @teeawgo

Raps got gori girls going golly gosh
Desi girls saying "va alishan kasi baat"
Chali-haat young bengali oligarch
Bollywood polyglot, khan kareena’s bodyguard

Sagging skin-- face look like salvador dali art
When I was six, mom used to shop at the dollar mart
Namak para, chicken tikka shan in the shopping cart

Then I moved to Main Street, 27 bussed it
Styrofoam biryani while I rode up to the masjid
Give me any font script, I bet I could bust it
Arabic to sanskrit, fajr to al-maghrib

Y’all can call me zina cause I’m nothing you should fuck with, baate with the aunties at the Pakistani functions
Chuckle with the uncles over khulfi and jelabi
Allah-bakshe if you play me, you might maybe catch these hands like henna mehndi
Call me akshay, hera pheri, can you blame me

But
I bleed brown
Y’all can never take that away no

Foreigners get the boot like brasilly presidenta
Further from the truth, making mentes in fazendas
Sempre alimenta, chicken nug, monica
Pops quit smoking now he puffing his harmonica

Never had a turma, ago was the only one
What the funk is starbucks, quero cafe da manha
Dalmata, seeing things b&w, musica
Be above, be a beetle, mama had a fusca

Incorrect grammar like mano who done shoot ya
Racionais wu tang 'spiracao, 2pac
If you step inside my casa, best to take ya shoes off
Don't wanna see nothing suja, it's true my

Parents learnt english speech watching the news
I had cookies, milk dipping, Tigo majin the buu
Rocking the bowlcut, dressing in overalls
Binging with bowls of cocoa puffs since i moved

But
I bleed south, yall could never take that away no

Post-election my white friends tell me to be brave
Dad says I should behave
Mom says get a clean shave

Hijabi aunties jilt mantillas like they in a heat wave
Cousin saying this shit’s like what jim crowe was to free slaves
Uncle disagree with that analogy that he gave
Says the fact that we don’t feel safe is proof that we just need faith

Cousin zoning out on youtube watching Louis C.K
Dad starts talking bout islamic faith and has a field day
Ammi change the subject by handing out chai and tea cakes
Saying “pi kay dhekley”, they answer “bilkull theek hai”

I’m there in the corner playing DK
Kong
Country
Collecting all the red balloons for funsies
Mom is making lassi, mango, asks me if I can go
Pray with all the family
While she counting out the tasbih
Fussy, I tell her not to rush me
Like mom, I’m on the mine cart level and I’m rusty
Trust me, mom pulls out the plug tho
I can’t really front tho, make my way downstairs and I read as’r with the uncles

Aunties asking me about my love life
Say they a know a girl in peshawar for me that looks like
A cross between aishwarya and like, the emma stone type
Saying I should wife her up on viber, maybe on skype
Lately I’ve searching for my dhulan with my phone swipes
Lately I’ve been thinking bout my own tribe, drone strikes

But
I bleed brown
Y’all can never take that away no

kulfi ft. THIAGO

prod @yungameba
mixed by @ibr
art by @ibr and me 
shouts to my crew @offthejump
thanks to @atlas for being a cool dude 
lyrics: http://genius.com/Samsa-feat-atlas-anthropocene-lyrics


I always knew that we’d be by each other’s side forever
now our time has come 
and I’d be satisfied if we died together
 
yeah, our climate’s fucked  
we might as well enjoy the weather
our time is up and I’d be satisfied 
if we died together

hit me up

anthropocene ft. atlas 🎉

prod @rainlord
mixed by @ibr

lyrics: http://pastebin.com/BktFpHc4

look, I won’t pretend I understand it babe, the afterlife and all
but as you died you promised me that you would try to write or call
and I’ve been waiting ever since, every sunday I hold seances with like-minded adults
and roll your corpse into the living room and try and find your pulse and then repine at the results, I’ve even got my windowsills lined up with ultraviolet bulbs, shrunken shrines of human skulls and other signs of the occult but now I’m at a fucking loss, cause honey, nothing seems to work…
 
like I’ve been astrally projecting my body beyond my dreams
through the fabric of space and time so you could me spot me at the seams
I ventured through the upside-down hoping you caught me in between
but maybe if you’ve got the tech, then you could haunt me on my screens
 
like you should infiltrate my news feed
I swear no one would notice
you could float beside some bogus buzzfeed quiz about the POTUS
be a pixelated phantom ghost
on clickbait propaganda posts
and dictate what you’re thinking through a catchy headline
like “one weird reason why it’s great to be ethereal”
or “twenty signs you’re dead now and your soul is immaterial”
 
or if it’s late at night then you could swoop in from the shadow realm
and talk to me through pop-up ads that show up over adult films
on anything you’re into, we could start with milf, or facial,
you could beam your interspatial spirit into interracial
if you’re feeling sorta formal, we could pizza date on Skype
and I could call the coroner over n’ we could share the corner slice and when it’s time to go to bed, then we could leave our cameras on
and if the netherworld has one-day shipping free on Amazon
 
then you could slumber as you ship yourself, I swear this shit delivers quick
or send me the address and I could meet you by the river styx
I’d twitter beef with Namtar by the Tigris and Euphrates
I could snap you while I’m snagging sacred threads of life from Hades
I would loot Duat and photocopy-pirate the papyus,
change the records and then have a Facebook flamewar with Osiris  
and either way, I can’t wait to talk or reunite,
I’ve been so lonely since you died, I’ve tried to walk towards the light
and if the Gods of Death oppose our harmless want to reconvene
then maybe we could sneak you by ‘em if you haunt me through a screen

the rest of the lyrics: pastebin.com/BktFpHc4

haunt me on twitter

haunt me

Much more to come soon 🙂

prod. by https://soundcloud.com/leapyearr
mixed by @ibr

Lyrics:

A thousand miles in my head but i aint seen you yet
Runnin through my mind
Wait for me, give ya feet a rest
I used to wanna be the best
And now i just wanna be with you
I'm on my way home girl we'll be together soon
I see your silhouette dancin on my balcony
Makin me feel golden, i would swear you practice alchemy
Knew i should've told ya I'd be there by the morning, but i wanna sneak up on ya and surprise ya with a sight to see
Like, "Hi it's me!"
Would you mind if we
Shared this dance..
I felt our hearts
Synch in beats
So i timed my steps
I'd like to think
That my feet
Wouldn't make a mess
But I'm not good at dancing
So I'm hopin that we can forget 
At least this part
We just needed a kick start
I've felt ya love before and i swear to you girl that it's art
You talkin bout the future only one i care for is ours
And we can be careful but baby i want more of these parts

So we could roll the dice
And we could take our chances
And we could go where life takes us
We don't need to plan it
Baby, i see, me and you together
And i think that we could go forever
×2

Chances..

prod. @corybear
mixed by @ibr

shout out stream squad

I think in I’m in love
but I’ve been feeling otherwise
these flutters in my stomach aren’t butterflies but cutting knives 
and not the butter kind, and if you listen close when she begins to speak, you’ll hear a couple hundred sighs and the collective shut of eyes, letters linger on her lips like lullabies, I think I’ve  drowned a couple times inside her opal-colored eyes, she could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives, a perfect 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs, X catch her wearing loose pajamas on a sunday and she’d overshadow any supermodel on a runway, when she wakes up in the morning up she smells like vanilla essence and the bittersweet recollections of your adolescence, summer camp and piano lessons and presents you got on birthdays, orange creamsicles and double plays on first base, and walk past her in the halls and if your shoulders feel the slightest brush then you might melt to liquid gold, the lightest kind of midas touch, I’ve seen the way she drinks espresso during classes and reshapes a paper cu p into an emerald-covered chalice, sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances to me through her giorgio armani frames, she’s nearly perfect in 
almost 
every
way 









. 



.


.
but she’s got shit taste in movies, ask her for her favorite titles and she always likes to say she’s down to go see anything by shyamalan or michael bay, and also, she’s a psycho in the kitchen, 
it’s a travesty, what kind of fucking monster cooks their pasta in the microwave? 
and she does this thing where she corrects your grammar if it’s wrong and clicks her tongue and winks and shoots a playful finger gun as if she’s won some sorta contest, empress victor-of-a-conquest, mrs. armchair shrink, let me fix you with a comment, princess kick you when you’re down, worshipper to a godhead, it seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn’t chime in quick with unsolicited advice, an unapologetic tyrant of passive aggressive rivalry, ask her a question and catch and handful of sass and irony, and trust me, she is just the worst at board games, debates about the rules like legislators at a court case, tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel, once I even caught her cheating while she kept the score in scrabble, she’s a fucking wreck at checkers, plays monopoly sloppily, always bringing up disputes in games of trivial pursuit, sucks at battleship and risk, she fights better hand-to-hand, 
and don’t even get me started ‘bout how trash she is at candy land

but I’m no adonis either,
fashion sense abysmal, I’ve got two nirvana t-shirts 
that I wear to formal outings and I’ve never owned a cardigan,
catch me buyin’ cargo pants at target from the bargain bin
drink milk straight out the carton, use my hands to scoop out margarine
breakfast table etiquette makes up our morning arguments
and I’m not a glass half full kinda guy,
shipwrecked, flags half-mast hull kinda guy
I never was an optimist, not too good at compromise,
the problem is my ego’s far too fragile to apologize
but she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pegs too
it’s always nice to have somebody close who double-checks you
and honestly, we wouldn’t be ourselves if we were different 
yeah, she’s clumsy and I’m stupid, those are things that we can live with
being perfect’s unrealistic, either way I like our flaws
the way I crack my knuckles often, the obnoxious way she yawns
the way I stutter when I flirt cause I’m not very good with courtship
the way she’s gotta pee the first ten minutes of a road trip
how when she cuts her pancakes it’s in slices, not in squares
the way my daily coffee intake is a crisis, I'm aware
the way I talk in crowded theatre and the way she parks in parallel
the way she goes through pints of ben and jerrys salted caramel
the way...

slide in my DM's

butterflies

Thanks to @collidingwmars for the art
Hope you enjoy!

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Produced by @wzrd-island and @biskwiq

Mixed by @biskwiq and @ibr

Cover art by @biskwiq

Hancock

esquire

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