Everything Is Cold II

Everything Is Cold

Thoasands Of Years Ago

Takyon Remix (ft. Golden Eye N64 Samples)

Fight Club II

Fight Club

Hey!

Cab

let me take it back a while with your bad soul
you poke up on me with your back, jump on days old
never had it but ain't nothing' but a hole
could' hit it but it dang so dull

no budget for a heavy boogy diver
no way no one had something lined up
one handed down- even, done so
gotta hand it to the good day

on track and blasted now
time has lasted me another year
and i'm geared up for another shake down of hot takes
and i'm fist cakes and diddley-dee for the love you saw fit to throw back at me
batter up 'cuz' and let me fill your cup to the brim with gimmicks and solid steam
similar to the dream i just broke out of
'cause i'm out of town on the things we used to smoke out of

kill and army with a tangible stare
that i'm prepared on yet
supped and flared on, bet
'till it smoke like a tire
on my throne of lions
that i know you've been dying
to unveil, like i'm comin' up
behold; 'tis the flying dutchman
and i'm phantom-handed for cohabited understanding
tone; it gets quick
too much; like big whip
locked on, like Vader's brain
Vendetta like Bruce Wayne

Tromas

My mind and the money
it's all the same
while i'm counting this money
smoking this propane
i'm tryin' to deal with the time
rollin' in my membrane

but i got a old soul
walkin' with a old crane
so what's more important?;
the lime and the light?
or working hard and study hard for the rest of my life?
empirical poetry!;
but you ain't never heard of me
i'm courted in the dry ice
and without the diamonds, i still shine bright
my melanin shining against the wind
and please don't debate
you know i'm bout to win
6 months in the jail
some guidance that worked and what you get?;
a young black man well calling it quits
but like the wind, i be shifting
boi ya boi
i rarely lost my pivot
nah, boy yeah. but your girl really want the digits, damn
while i'm feeling all the riches
call me easy P 'cause i'm hitting all the switches
but i got the folks; i got your girl goin' berserk
now i'm floating above the sidewalk
got the crowd jumping just like criss cross
put my hand out and catch the beat like randy moss
now it's on, it's on, it's on
what are you on? let's get it on

Flying Dutchmen (Phantom Handed) ED Cab & Tromas

lyrics

punk rock chicks on the corner
one foot in chaos, the other found this morning in disorder
scarred frontal lobe rages as the flood gates open
33 lashes thrume which a merciless captain has spoken
out last till it's broken
helping class, but it's token
and you're plastic like glow stick
and i'm master of the world and its shadow
dark passenger, don't matter
once i end the mystery of the world
and its blown out

just as it end
i begin
with a grin
cause i'm in on it
bend with it
locked, so i swim with it
no finish for it
a kiss for it
i'm the mist master
magic spell caster
kiao ken to the end
which i live in here with a friend
shell know me better in a day
and yet i'm counting, with no way to know or not know
thought so
catch me with a pocket full of it
had no clutch or cause for it
had sent you letters better scribed by my own heart for it
not just another bitter nether-father fetching water for the sunrise
'tis this pyrite plate enterprise
costly, with no fashion lost on me
foster thee to ends; felt like colors seen
plate break moon beam
slice path trajectory
theft of the unseen
talismen, unfold 'neath

Thrume

Lyrics

Cab

time to black out
no work in to ball out on some reasonless mess
dawning immanent questions, nearer
and don't fear it i say
all suspicions now confirmed
as i swirl in
like a serpent 
for the kill shot
and blood spilt, caught;
nothing here left to waste

'tis the eve of my revolution
execution scheduled for faders on vacation
shadow tongued nation slips under the ring finger
rake its own face, 'till it flop out on the curb
on notions poison to the soul
best take that away noise, ya heard?

dead man ride with no restraint

no time like the present to now dissect
download pain to the brain
mind set out
dimension down
pull it down
to the clown
that escapes with grace

hit on the dot
punk out
don't fuck up
now so wide
backed down to the gate
hopped on it, hot shit
tell no tale
that a dead man ride with no restraint

(oh shit!)

Phanson

i know this song - real quick. like, 'ugh'.
A mini-ornery hit, my mind.
you feel the way that i feel? no you don't
bitch 'cause i know exactly what the hell i'm beyond

the ambience around me, I feel
Don't look; 'up-down' me, my name is phil
philosophize? i'm fixin' to go in instead, to kill
this be what, all that 'off strand'; it's real.

What The Dead Don't Ride With

Containment (IED)

Needle's in the Tiger's Eye (Intro cut) (ED)

Theme Of Jeff, The God Of Biscuits

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