LYRICS

yeah
shell 
look, yeah turn me up
i was never wordy for real
the first nigga heard me spit a verse was imaginary
cursed with hurting myself (yeah, yeah)
reverting to a circle that’s as tight as a virgin but damn
now i’m perverted, i’m learning to touch personnels 
now i need a check on me, like they concerned for my well-being (well)
i’m no longer shell-seeking (shell)
i walked through a hell, where niggas can’t tell demons
apart from elem teachers, coaches, bitches and, crazily, pale deacons
fuck law of average, i’m him
Cortez, i ain’t making amends
you can tell that i’m aiming for heads
you gotta deal with me like shaking my hand (ah, shit)
no wonder my major’s business
i paint descriptions that i pictured vividly
my friends saying “what the fuck has got into me”
fucks, i got rid of these
2004, the last time i been asleep
yeah
out of Milwaukee, but i promise, i got Dahmer’s spirit
still leave a nigga part-less with it, heart diminished
Western Conference how that sparks division
Parked on your block
blame these women for my heart conditions
“hard is shit” but these lyrics kinda like if you saw this sentence backwards (three)
most of my guys couldn’t read or math-solve (two)
they’d rather trap a pack at a gas stop (one)
then skirt a (coupe), like it’s NASCAR
“hop in a booth” 
nigga that’s breakfast to me (facts)
if y’all testing yourself in acceptance i bet you’ll be here
next semester at least (facts)
my morale never lessen ‘less i don’t give lessons but i never let myself lead
my people down bad roads, we on roads to riches
we ain’t wrecking, that’s weak
swerving Iles with a leg out the Jeep
working now, and i worked then
but i always found myself pressuring me
a verse a day, 9ine kept me at peace
how y’all stay on Snapchat so damn much and still 
lose in definite streaks? my zen protected in beats and digits 
they tell me the sky’s my limit (yeah)
that’s exactly where i am headed
why the fuck would i rap battle? niggas too plain
like 9/11
you fighting fire, that ain’t wise, it’s deadly 
picking apart my picks of the art that’s heavy on inspiration to create shit
same ways that the greats chose to take it
now that dog in me crawling with rabies
life was ruff, crack stuffed in a Mason with (real)
Henny spilt, cracked glass where the table sit (real)
overcame, cracking back like i slave and shit (real)
3/5’s, but that fraction, i made it mixed
for the faction i can’t lapse, so i’m pacing it
patiently penning pages til payments hit
“you got the sound” that sounded like crazy talk
now i gotta show ‘em that language is facts

SHELL (REMIX) with Kenny Mason

LYRICS

yeah
five whole characters shifts throughout two weeks only 
so how can you speak without seeming to know me?
promise you, i’m tryna breathe in these oceans
swimming with the sharks, i’ll read ‘em closely
what can i do so that time’s more on my side of things?
wanted me off your team but i won the trade 
and we focusing on a lot of rings
Jon sent me the What The Paul’s, not for what profit brings
Ian dropped the Steve Madden loafers right out for me
as if i don’t keep my bread up
niggas gotta mind they beez thinkin’ that they ahead of us
i don’t know who got me yet, like it’s secret Santa 
stop being jealous
metal detectors installed, i can’t even peak through it
leaden homework, tryna drown voices wit theme music
where is it stemming from that it’s chauffeurs and ease to this?
shit that we been on doesn’t come w febreze, do it?
tables turned and lessons learned for my next look
the only card that payed for both’s in the Velé checkbook
with zeros in the debt but
evy, i ain’t missing you poorly like Russell Westbrook
if i’m having to ‘fess up, yeah
packed crib, and it’s U-Hauling to—
speaking valid points seem to make people move away from me
crazily, it’s reached a point: no matter the place, it’s vacancy
empty heart basically, still i feel what you’re saying to me
the city’s prosaic to me, everyone’s pointing at me
perpetual oyster Rollie, seafood poisonin’ me
Nevaeh stay coiling my shrinkage 
please stop spoiling me, 
yeah, keep the piece stuck on my hippy 
but i’m no stoner, you want smoke? quit toying wit me 
i hate y’all
you need to stop all of the bitching and play ball
the all black 5.7 Hemi’s revving and laughing
while Cortez, once again, is back on a track, man
flows everlasting
i mean you could hope that i’m ever lacking
but it’s like tryna get Kobe’s reaction
letting us in the capitol for these flicks ain’t no damn affirmative action, i’m literally just that man
graduated june but you niggas stay wit the cappin’
and i can’t throw a hat in
this practice
yeah, shit isn’t fair
i’m splitting the mountains and bending the air
never been to Churchill Downs but i’m getting us there
asmr currents as i sit on the stair 
while tryna pen some shit that didn’t compare
to the previous verse
cause i can’t compete with you niggas from here
spitting your worst, like damn bitch, i’ll get it from here 
make the pussy weap, i’m in a different tier
and you know that sort of statement is very entertaining
the Cooper’s reservation’s for my dawgs and lady
but hey, you’re on a wait list, yeah

Churchill Downs Freestyle

conflicted

a track in the project which, essentially, recaps and reflects on how i've felt these past four years. finding love within myself, breaking out of a shell, and dealing with a small town mentality.

law of averages (produced by nolan barbre & landon dupont)

a track (not in the project) that captures a feeling of triumph. a celebratory "what now?". escape can be relieving, but you have to figure out where to go next & how to get there. to me, the light at the end of the tunnel is brighter than ever.

dividends (produced by leon lucey)

CATCH ‘22 (produced by zak mabry)

When Jordan Cortez heard 3 Hour Drive by Alicia Keys and Sampha for the first time, he was instantly inspired. Scraping up album material from weeks before (and finding new material through the now-finished beef between rap legends Kendrick Lamar and Drake, Jordan uses a sort of sporadic-thought theme that you would hear on a long road trip. He tackles spiritual, moral and cultural issues—from hypocrisy within the music industry, both secular and Christian, to his own personal failures and shortcomings. Produced by Alicia Keys, Sampha, Emile Haynie and SIGHOST, this is a coming-of-age record for the now 20 year old rapper from Milwaukee, and a prelude to his anticipated album law of my mind—a concept album that speaks on the reality of his Christian lifestyle and what it takes to carry his own cross every day.

Jordan Cortez

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