Watsky- Never Let It Die [All You Can Do]

Song written by Astronautalis & Picnic Tyme
Piano: Chad Stockslager
Guitar & Bass: John Congleton
Strings: Daniel Hart
Backing Vocals: Rookie Sensation Mike Wiebe
Additional Drums by: McKenzie Smith
Additional Synths by: Sean Kirkppatrik

Produced By John Congleton

The River, The Woods

superman

SIPPINGTEAINYOHOOD [UPDATED]

SIKE
Produced by: Adam Pickrell
Sequenced & Arranged by: John Congleton
Additional Drum Programming: Bird Peterson 
Horns: Reggie Pace

 I've been on some burn it down, leave this town, never look back shit 
Passing out on your couch, sneaking out the back tip
 Ripping credit cards out your mailbox snatch it
 Charge it to the game playboy, it's practice
  They been on some got this, squat this, reroute the power grid
 Cops can't stop this, over our dead body bitch
 Eat this, drop this, turn it up louder kid 
Put it down in our path? Million ways around that shit  
We backstage sterilizing tattoos with beer 
You cats stay paralyzed by bad news and fear 
You underage and they ain't fucking let you in here 
Fake ID G, and buy us all beer  
I’m sick of kids who sit and bitch about how they can't get into shit 
Ya "woe is me" steez, just getting bit ridiculous
 Fucking A, you're underage, that means they just slap your wrist
 If not, you're young and fit, “Yeah Bitch! Out run the pigs!”  
Ha! And give em all trophies
And some orange slices 
Yeah, y'all already know me 
One of the only that's really grindin’
  Lazy motherfuckers wanna call it luck 
Be real motherfuckers know there ain't no such
 Thing cause i mean there ain't no free lunch
 You better fix your own plate or serve one to us
  Go on pray to your God, or complain on facebook 
Stay waiting for your Dad, to come save the day dork
 Voted for Obama, and expecting changes It’s just one big party all giving the same gifts  "SIKE!"  Like a P.O.S T-shirt! 
YIKES!  It’s only gonna get worse! 
RIGHT?  This beat Is kinda bzerk 
Turn it up louder till my fucking teeth hurt!
  Yeah girl, I own some gold teeth
I’m southern, I was taught to hold heat
Ain’t no gangster, I’ll tell that true
Rick Ross just a cop with some bad tattoos

Florida baby, yeah my neck stay real red
While you make believe pushing that white shit
You dress up gangsters can play pretend
I stay slangin that white girl round my bed

Young Steve McQueen spit that dick game
You tweet real bossy for a bitch with a tin chain
I don’t need no Maybach just to sharpen my pimp girl
Pull girls on my bike they ride my handlebars home, man!

Ooh!  Put my word on that chief
Rihanna gonna haller, the way I murdered that beat
A condom like an umbrella, King Kong in the bed sheets
Just haller at a fella when you’re done with that dead beat!

CHORUS

 See, I can write your dumb raps 
Pay me, and go buy some hubcaps
 Fake G’s talkin bout gun claps
 Ain't gonna happen, like A-Rod's come back
  Talent is cheap, money's all made up
 Gallons of beam, and the speakers based up
Fuck it!  I got nothing left to say son 
Y'all get Cryphy!  Thank you Based God! 

CHORUS 

"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."
-Albert Camus


Side One Dummy Records: Worldwide
Cargo Records: Europe

Sike!

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

Scroobius Pip f/ P.O.S. & Sage Francis // "Let Em Come"

LUCKY PENNY

Lyrics and vocals by Dessa
Music by Dessa
Additional production by Lazerbeak and Andy Thompson

Chime

Jumprope

Dessa "Jumprope"

new DESSA 
album CHIME
in stores 2.23.18
pre-order: http://smarturl.it/DessaChime

Lyrics and vocals by Dessa
Music by Andy Thompson
Additional production by Lazerbeak

LYRICS

I’ve been Wendy
living with the Lost Boys
youth spent as a deckhand on the convoy
moved every night to prove we were something
got confused if it was from or to that we were running. 
I've seen Gibraltar
I’ve seen the Taj Mahal
Soweto, Hagia Sophia 
Chefchaouen paints their walls blue
I’ve played to full rooms
I’ve played the fool too 
burning through the bottoms of a pair of new boots
Cut my hair
tape my tits down 
A woman on her own must be from out of town
funny, you don’t know the concessions that you’re making until you catalog em
and by then they’re many and you’re battle-hardened. 
Heat makes liquid of the asphalt 
keepsakes and parking tickets on the dashboard 
I'm here to file my report as the vixen of the wolf pack; 
tell Patient Zero, he can have his rib back. 

Chorus
You can count my ribs
Wanna know what class I’m in—
Count my,
You can count my ribs. 

You can’t be too broke to break
as a woman
Always something left to take 
so you shouldn't  
try to stay too late or talk to strangers
look too long, go too far out of range cause
angels can’t watch everybody all the time
stay close, hems low, safe inside;
that formula works if you can live it 
but it works by putting half the world off limits. 

Chorus

We don’t say, Go out and be brave
nah, we say Be careful, stay safe 
in any given instance, that don't hurt
but it sinks in like stilettos in soft earth,
like the big win is a day without an incident 
I beg to differ with it
I think a woman’s worth
I think that she deserves 
a better line of work 
than motherfucking vigilance.
Don’t give me vigilance
by definition 
you can’t make a difference 
if the big ambition 
is simply standing sentry to your innocence  
that’s not a way to live 
that can’t be what a woman is
that gives her nothing to aspire to.
What that is—
what that is
is just a life of running fire drills. 

We’re runnin fire drills.

Scroobius Pip f/ P.O.S. & Sage Francis // "Let Em Come"

Hip Hop Isn't Dead