@ButchDawson on the beat. @Llamadon. Baltimore.

written and recorded in a couple hours through the laptop mic. 
one take. no mix no master.
it was a wednesday. august 24 16'.

the homie @ButchDawson dropped some banger tracks a couple weeks ago that got me open and I just had to write some shit down cuz i was inspired.
thanks to butch for his blessings so that I could post this up and share. way unofficial but blessed none the less.

support that dude. and cop that tape and all his other offerings. 
all the llamas.
https://jujuanallen.bandcamp.com/


death defying facts
placed softly in the backpack
just walking down the street might catch a bullet in ya teeth
like the mask
take the mask off
i’m ghost — scare myself
when i face the mirror
i don’t know myself
ain’t chose myself

paid the back tax 
chill with hammer in a 90s Acura
lookin for the coop
tryna make the casting call
old enough to crack the claw
smash a jaw saying i ain’t askin y’all

gogo gadget watch the tail feather
most friends are fair weather
toast — walk away forever

never say never
while the violins play
the violence stays
in my mind for days
while i lay back
comfort of my bed frame
no maybach
let’s face facts
ain’t no take backs
ya’ll say never this
i say never that
deliver me from evil on the dawson track
brace for impact

boss hog gnaw the chain
like a junkyard dog, they used to say
when i was out slanging filets
and foaming out the mouth
couldn’t keep my head out the clouds
product was an article that i couldn’t put it down
now my product is a sound
that you couldn’t cut out 

scary to a generation lied to since preschool
speak to fiends, it’s cool

throw a peace at you
and fleece fools
i’m T2

hem the jewel
out the box like holy socks
not the one to push the ox
but the one to pick the locks

i’m spic n' span like lemon jam
your neighborhood spiderman
hover over hungry lands

in quicksand
you can’t stand
these thick wrists you can’t lance
fuck these dimwit pop bands
and dimwits that pop bands
step up and can’t hang
i’m Barzan

Demos

Barzan Freestyle (Prod. Butch Dawson)

[Original Track] = Bonfa Situation by All These Fingers @allthesefingers

Been following All These Fingers for some time. An extremely prolific artist whose music always speaks to me. 
Grab up the album this track appears on(Secret Places) and other albums and tapes here: https://allthesefingers.bandcamp.com/
And follow and support All These Fingers here: @allthesefingers

------
written and recorded in a blissful hour and a half yesterday afternoon
9'5'16
no mix no master. one take through the laptop mic.
------

in my myopia
dystopia
dyspep-sick
loping like beats from ancient sleep
like sheep that’s mending picket fences 
i grieve the pickets mention
no dream lost, just what never was
what’s never found, earth bound to turn
round here the leaves never touch ground
but hover centimeters above
believing love
is finding branches for this dove
but what of grief
that goes unheralded
scrounged garrulous matter 
married perilous authors
looked for female poets to uncover
to understand the roses’ thorns
the thorns’ roots
the roots form
the born truth in first fruit
spring beaming gentle
tea spooning
blowing reed kisses 
mooning — seas glinting
laughed with blunt in hand
and six feet deep through the sony speaks
worst bone to pick is the one to teach
cursed home at 6 but what’s inside of me
is always returning
wonder whats that smell of burning

heart attack from beyond the fronds
palms bury the song in psalms
last treasures of these arms I saw
new waves for a new day
and new rays in old plays
same scene same setting
same timing
i’m finding

the chair is only there for those not dining
the stare is far away cuz i never learned unwinding
the stress of life is just another outline of my lining
that sound is the tremble of my heart resigning
my lungs giving way to my fate
i’m still saving face
at a table
where we’re no longer saying grace

but hold hands still
in a temple of fingers in front of our faces
or together at will
the real-life of the autumn’s chill

My Myopia - Hemlock Ernst Freestyle (prod. All These Fingers)

[Original Track] = River Echo by ('i's') @n95-chris

Blessings to ('i's') for hitting me with some tracks a couple weeks back. Got home from the road Monday and sat down to write.

Written 9/12/16 - Recorded 9/13/16
No mix no master. Through the laptop mic.

This one is for the cats. Human and feline. The Pablos, the Poches, the Nicks and the Jims. Rip.

-----------

in the land, in the land
cats close at hand
move on to better lands
heaven is that state of mind

as the wind dripped through chrysalis
my avarice buried the threats
mysteries carried my mind swept
away with the tides tinged
mention my blindness
only to find friends
hoping for sympathy
at times when
i don’t believe in myself
when i relieve from my shelf
shells picked up now patronized
monuments to times when i was searching to find
merging my center uncertain
with saviors i’ve been virgin
with nature i’ve been assertive 
cuz i don’t want my spiritual fucked with
the way that the body’s gifts get plucked quick
and cherry’s pop on these cherry tops
on blacktops we played ball like the world had stopped
McCoy was the real when the key was at home
around the world in a Tyner song

while you was out coppin a feel
I was down on the reel to reel

when you was out huntin a deal 
i was down on the reel to reel

i was down on the reel to reel
how you feel

so i tried to put it on the paper better
tried to make it redder put the passion in the letters
i just wanted it to last forever
you lose a friend every time that you can’t break a tether
and we ain’t free at last
or free and lost
and freedom’s cost is  freedoms path
and life isn’t free but it was given to me
so now i’m given to you the bit that’s thickening me
hard hearted now it’s just like a prison to me
and why the cage bird sings
because it can
just that thought…it’s like a religion to me
but what is god if they taken bodies, before they meant to be
feel like i been here a century
the past 8 months felt like 8 years
sitting thinkin bout it 
recounting old loves and new fears
and 2016’s just disappeared 
then again, it’s almost new years

In the Land of Cats - Hemlock Ernst free verse (prod. ('i's'))

[Original Track] - Oooooooooo by Butch Dawson @ButchDawson off the KIM tape. Blessings to Butch for once again letting us share this out. you can grab the original instrumental track and other Butch Dawson tapes up here: https://jujuanallen.bandcamp.com/album/kim

Thanks to Fat Tony @fattonyrap for coming through on this too all the way from Mexico. He's been down there doin a residency but still came through with the mean verse. Much love to Tony on that.

And this ridiculous artwork is by my homie from way back, Kyle Mabson. You may know him from Charge It To the Game fame @ChargeGame or from being the guy who ran your sound at The Smell in LA at some point.

No reeaalll mix. Definitely no master. Just bars.
Blessings to the almighty Llamadon

Mazatlan Flex Freestyle - Hemlock Ernst & Fat Tony(prod. Butch Dawson)

Wrote this in the fall of 14' and recorded vocals for a demo to shop around in the bedroom June 15'. Tried to find another home for it since the beat wasn't mine but never did. 
Been sitting on it all this time and figure it may never see the light of day, so why not just put it out.
I've never put up somebody else's beats without permission, which has always held me back. Got tons of songs written over other people's beats I don't know. Orphan rhymes. 
So if you mad at me FlyLo you can find me easy.

unmixed unmastered
---------

kill for the pleasure, but only with the word
measured by the hand, unspoken herb
nurse the wound of your enemy
be the bigger man
but don't touch the heart
or name your pets in haste
death has a face, a date, a taste
mildew stained bookcase
old shoes on the staircase
stomps on the ribcage
body parachutes
crawls under landmarks
darts from burned bridges
fuck intellectuals
me raw human
grammar doesn't  link 
where body lies ruined
scent of cumin on the carousel
saints grieve artifact
drips in a cowry shell
paints with a buddha sack 
666 not a twisted crucifix
just symbols side chained
grimace purple piss stain
car on the side road
marooned poon lamphere zoom
my man shakespeare's gloom
he don't know baltimore
simpleton--thinks all he needs is a dollar more
needs his mommy though
wave choppy flow
in a world of pink slips and policy drones
it's the heartless ones that always seem to make it out in the end
the good die young, unsung, surrounded by friends
where it’s good and plenty, and 3’s a crowd
misery hates company now
in a darkened shroud
pencil  taste got me talking to a grizzled face
up in the mirror like,  adjusting to the stage
it seems healthy when it’s written bluntly on the page
and seems shifty when it’s spoken through a jealous rage
in signature lines the temperature blinds  
the innocent eyes, that christen the vibe 
devise my therapy, arabesque, sung naive melody 
in days of the sun, we danced and played merrily
living in caves, under moons we planted cherry trees
settled beneath grass huts and straw tapestries, opened
circles in our chests, woven from the loom
spoke too soon now our family leaves the room
where uncle Mac jokes with Mary Beth’s ghost
Aurora still a dust bowl swamp on the coast
in the deep damp charm of my loss
where the cotton folds lily white roses embossed
linen bluebells set wet in the moss

tell’m i love them and leave them alone
no need to wake a sleeping giant y’know

tell’m i love them and leave them alone
no need to wake a sleeping giant

Bluebells Set Wet In The Moss (Original - Capt. Murphy "Between Friends")

i haven't written or recorded any raps in a long while.
was going through some old unreleased songs (there's a lot) and thought i'd put this out there.
written and recorded in my bedroom March 2015.
the beat is from the amazing mc/producer SPECS ONE/SPECSWIZARD from Seattle, from a tape he put out around the same time. he doesn't know me but i know him. he got me real inspired.
tried to fit this in various projects, re-recorded over 4-5 different beats, but i always come back to this version. 
keep it original.

----------

no pot to piss in
lunch box religion
paper sack - condensate 
til we make weight
relate faith basically 
fuck a cheese plate
ampersand compound my nouns for the sound simply
sounds risky
don’t be afraid sister—breathe easy
sleep neicy, levitating on that outer realm
when leaping to the well, we feel the hearts a bell
and it’s cold as hell
don’t strike me ‘less you hear a ringing’
in hospitals they’re singing
heavy on that swing low
i’ve seen the chariots they bring joel from africa
turning civil in the middle of swollen village
candles place the navel
no sight for any angel
and his heads a temple
i miss him in his gristle
don’t go to sleep father
don’t lose us to the vigil
brush it off like your workbench
and push your pencil
you’re gonna make him pray
he never had a saviour
ghost of the self is erased by thoughts of anger
placed in a body, now who’s braver
me or you?
oh it’s me or you, true
it doesn’t it matter we choose
the same path and we lose the same path

modern man waits on the world to make a place for him
i’d make a case for him, but i ain’t gonna wait for em
i push through the bullshit, life ain’t heaven sent
but light lends present sense to fight god, i repent

don’t make a place for em
leave my father to this earth
he who hath given me birth
he who hath taught me my worth
not through a body of work
but through a body of words
cancer sits in the chest of a land that is blessed in distress
like hands that undress, thoughts of love
covered in gold leaf
we sit atop a pile of bayleaves boldly 
searching for the spice of life on braised knees
in these caged dreams
cauterize the cracked lips of martyrs grails
pale trail a cold stale cable a bold frail stable of coattails hangers and gold rails
this track is a lost pattern, my path is soft chasm
some leaflets embossed scatter, to winds that just pause
where do we blow to?
no—we ain’t kids this ain’t ’02
when we’d roll with the punches just to smoke these dutches
now we old heads with scrunched faces
distaste on the tongue, actin for low wages
heard a cackle from someplace that’s in the distance
check the mirage, i see my breath in the air’s crispness
when night falls it shatters our illusions and doubt
you think you’re coming into
really they’re leading you out

modern man waits on the world to make a place for him
i’d make a case for him, but i ain’t gonna wait for em
i push through the bullshit, life ain’t heaven sent
but light lends present sense to fight god, i repent

Hemlock Ernst

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