Produced by Ziggid of Zoetic Minds.

//Ziggid//
//Hook//
Back when things weren't so complicated,
Originated, Hip Hop culture cultivated, 
Crafting our sound, how we operate it,
Intergraded Funkatron, Ziggid dominate it, 
Back when things weren't so complicated,
Originated, Hip Hop culture cultivated, 
Crafting our sound, how we operate it,
That's how we operate it, how we operate it! 
//Verse1//
Fuck it that's that, I won't even pack, 
Throw my shit in the car and hit road like a mac, 
There ain't nothing here for me but that forty year dash, 
I'ma make this mistake like its already past, 
Leave one Bae for another, that's where it's it happening at, 
San Jose with my brother, where we tackling tracks, 
I'll make a name for myself, if I have to gaffle your tag, 
In sickness and in health I'm just taking this rap,
Nowa days, you gotta have a signature drink, 
Signature gimmick, singular topic of speech, 
My signature gimmick is scraping up simple MCs, 
With authentic inventions you can intensely critique, 
If you're looking for suspense, I don't intend to mislead,
Get on my level on, get the bends, Retreat, I'm too deep,
There never was a fight, so just bend at the knee, 
Cuz in this game of thrones, you either dead or you me!
//Ziggid//
//Hook//
//Verse 2//
Funkatron asked me to spit a 16,
I made a hit instead, and told him to follow me,
I got a gang of artists that keep on calling me,
You wanna make a hit record? Well darlin’ see….
It’s not like what it used to be,
It’s just an MP, and a fucking dope MC,
You got a drum loop to chop, and in a moment you’ll see,
There’s no limit perceived, the gimmicks not real to me 
Your tacticless practices don’t appeal to me,
So perhaps it’s the real in me,
The ability to possess some humility,
And still be chill even if you’re not feeling me,
It’s Ziggid and Funkatron, so expect no less,
It’s brothers and bars, charged from a moments notice,
And when we write these rhymes to keep your minds elevated,
You can watch as we demonstrate it, and still dominate it.
//Hook//

Back When- ft. Ziggid

Produced by Ziggid of Zoetic Minds.

Gettin closer to this woman, but i neva get to see 'er,
Funkatron's fickle mistress, existence isn't nclear,
the knots rock my stomach, mostly outta fear,
after a quarter century, the last fourth of all my years,
neva meetin face to face, in real life, or in the clear,
I'm not runnin through this blind, some kind, of vague idea,
but not enough, when the bluff i keep walkin is shear,
It's always been my purpose, hopin you can say the same, 
one day before i die, im gonna give this bitch a name,
cuz im flirtin with the truth, but super sleuth don't get to fuck,
just leadin me in circles till i give this shit up,
I got the patience, waiting to snatch a scrap a' luck,
steady ready in the shadows, till she plumped up for the pluck,
snatch it, stash it in my sleeve, play 'em all for chumps,
hit and run, tape and sell, kiss and tell everyone,
what lies under lies and blood, and two inches of makeup.
//Hook//
I tried to walk the straight and narrow in the garden of hedon,
but fell off the path, harrassed and harmed by demons,
decided to fight and stay rather than find an escape,
tame or slay every beast of beat that stands in my way.
//x2//
//Verse 2//
check the goin rate of truth, more costly than vices,
funk slip on fog hat, he drift and he write this,
story of a man who planned, simply, to fight this,
even if take his life, no spite, priceless,
what stand in my way? Just man? alright then,
no man can spam god like prowess like i can,
enjoy your final hours, don't cower, just strike fists,
you stood before the titan, in itself, that's righteous,
Give ya the props you deserve, herbs flee at my likeness, 
My right fist, goin right through those tight lips,
pullin out your tongue so itll whisper that hype shit, 
the type shit, to unite those who been fightin, 
i smite pigs, blockin the path which is lighted,
wasnt always like this, fell to hell, detritus,
surrounded me, one night's slip, found me in tight grip, 
but mics grounded me, started to write, then i lift.
//Hook x2//
//Verse 3//
Funkatron attacks, finally puttin down wax,
droppin suckas face down, that's a hard up fact,
pile drivin playas cuz i hate the game,
and all you props by fucking proxy, cuz you all fuckin lames,
funks a soldier, on a mission to civilize, 
My weapon is the truth for the youth that you duped,
soon they'll wanna play for blood, and theyll wanna play with you,
so whatcha gonna do when i let them loose,
the troops, to abolish this ruse, abuse,
all of us have use, beyond products consumed,
refined and fine tuned, to climb, untie noose,
so what confines you? i bet we can break through,
the No'man will know truth and grow in pursuit, 
of peaceful planned coups, and strength to rock fools,
and stand mic raised in my hand, atop refuse.
//Hook x2//



Fickle Mistress

Produced by Ziggid of Zoetic Minds.

It’s urban warfare, Breathe in the warm air,    
Thermite in the summer, cuz we found nothing more here,           
Expanded out and up, Strip malls and houses, What?!           
Hit the brakes and it breaks, No peace MP's and trucks,                 
It won't be televised, Accused of terror ties,                       
Life sentences dispensed, Intent to terrorize,                           
Or disapear at night, False flags and black sites,                    
Black bars and bags silence, Those who have fight,                         
The mounting debt machine, Choking my breathe and being,      
The rest that's left just left, I guess In death I dream,                    
Success or stress or flex, That's what entrapment means,       
Get dressed get checks keep step, It's human trafficing.
//Hook//
If you're asking how'd this happen, let me help you understand,
When they asked you waive your rights, you threw up your fucking hands,
With the media to back 'em, from your news to your favorite bands,
They're sellin us our opinions, these kids don't stand a chance, 
If you're asking how'd this happened, let me help you understand,
When they asked you to wave your rights, you threw up your fucking hands,
If you actually wanna fight, I promise you'll get the chance,
You just gotta ball that same fist, when their shit hits the fan!
//Verse 2//
I'm sick of folks saying each storys two sided,
There's only one truth, you've Just been blinded,
If we could accept it, I probably wouldn't mind it,
If we could fucking admit it, I'd probably find where my mind was,
In age where the CIA is selling drugs!
In age where the nsa is watchin us!
In an age where the fda are bigger thugs!
Than African war lords thnt's sponsored by us!
I'm treading close to depths infested with chemicals,
Cuz intrepid hope don't best the tests of the skeptical,
Check the tropes they spit bars just to imprison souls,
I'll stay afloat and rep the sentence forever prose!
//Hook//
//Verse 3//
Raw pennage, it comes with a life sentence,
For this outpatient, out pacin a space that's rented,
A devote patron Who out spaced the space intended,
A patron saint of war games, begin the repentance,
Funkatron don't sing a happy song, he sees the seas arising,
Sees the greed sees the lies but yet it's still surprises,
To see as planet axed, and see the profit plan behind it,
They seized control, we seized,  and now they've seen us blinded,
Wayco, town Jones, your homes, cuz you stayed in silence,
Freedom or death, know the depth of my violence!

Life Sentence

Produced by Ziggid of Zoetic Minds.

//Skepsys//
I like long walks on the beach,
With fly honey's that never talk to the creeps, put my song on repeat,
If it's laced with a fat hook and a nice 16,
One time for the microphone fiends who still at it,
Cuz stillmatic was my Illmatic,
The introduction of millenials to real classics,
Ill rappin with a veteran's sense, 
Unemployed and militant now who better equipped, 
To rock the microphone with soul put your mind in a trance,
And I like to make you laugh with your behind in my lap, 
Real talkin, I get to first base while you're balkin, 
Makin your sales pitch, I could steal second walkin,
Look, I know you tryin to get dug out,
But slide head first like Pete Rose of the club house, 
That's the protocol, if you with it come and show the god, 
If not get chopped off like a stolen car, barz!
//Hook//
//Verse 2//
It's the dark Mike, playing Dark Knight tonight,
Utility belt full of weed, knives, lighters, and pipes,
I should probably slow down, when you're right you're right,
I'll still take a fucking left, like the rest of my life, 
Face my rorshack test while I'm prowling for fights,
Ignore the signal lights, this is spite, for shit like, 
Canceled Teen Titans, bad movies, and sack price,
go beast boy, on M. Knight, air bending his wind pipe,
Back to fillin mine, with'a grass of a strange type,
Vigilante justice to the glow of a bic ligh,
Witness in distress, or duress, but he'll flip twice,
Showin pix of my dick, "who the Fuck is this guy!?",
Then I'm off to bomb walls, with some Pyschotic insight,
In depth critique that reads, "freedom for life",
Alcohol and vandalism till I'm seeing the light,
Ya, Funkatron got fit shaced the previous night. 
//Hook//

Happy- ft. Skepsys

Oh, K!

Make Loot Ft Zeotic Minds

Just love me some good rap...

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Funkatron No'man

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