Produced by keen https://soundcloud.com/thekeenone and ostubash https://soundcloud.com/ostubash


The Fishtown Butcher Demo

Produced by Matt Cattie
Full EP downloadable Oct. 3rd, 2016. 
Buy it now from: https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/blackwolf-redacted-ep-rap-hiphop/

MC Blackwolf - Bricklayer

Produced by MC Blackwolf

There’s a beast that I’ve grown we used to be equals. 
 I ended indebted to the knownest of evils. 
 This is my feeble attempt a pleas that I’ve sent 
 To escape from my demon this beast that I’ve kept. 
 The demon fed this heathen spell to weave at a whim, 
 At a cost for each hymn a fact not lost on the id. 
 The pact I botched as a kid; a fact I often omit. 
 The only profit has been a path I walk without end. 
 To endeavor to create. Take my cleave to the paint. 
 Make the letters take shape, for the devil to berate. 
 Take the leather to his flank for every mistake. 
 Alas, age has net the devil better taste. 
 Used to settle for the greats never sated till it breaks. 
 What a fate, severed takes that will never get a wake. 
 Tethered to the stake, wedded to the benefits wage. 
 Such a waste. Never get in bed with a snake. 

 The beast is critical, bitter, ever cynical. 
 I feed him weathered hymnals. I’m tethered to the ritual. 
 Empirical evidence suggests, several miracles 
 Are simply clever tricks to get the veteran to give his best. 
 So though I forget my station. Ever in the devil’s debt 
 Never impatient. A wretched pest enslaved to the kraken. 
 Unclean priest to the beast that caged him. 
 You never heard a bird sing so true. 
 Burdened with the curse of sacrifice to the Eldritch brute. 
 A small price set it loose on the beast. 
 Now I’m ravaged, a scavenger, vermin, a thief. 
 Forced to sing him savage, angered sermons and pleas. 
 The one to speak in tongues even blind I’ll find the drum to beat. 
 My reasoned rhymes will only sign the line and fund the feast 
 Till I’m dumb deaf and numb till I succumb till I become the beast. 

 When we started the demon he was eager to please: 
 Speakers ready to bleed each beat seasoned to tease. 
 At the speed that it takes a desert eagle to speak, 
 I’d invoke this part of me with unfeasible ease. 
 He let the need grow inside of me he sowed his seeds deep, 
 Fiendishly greedy for the fever to peak. 
 I agreed to let his needle teethed leeches to feast 
 So I could keep this weeping demon’s easel deep in my cheek. 
 Within a week I caught the thief he was stealing my sleep, 
 Scheming on me with weaknesses he’d seen in my dreams. 
 Bleeding pieces of this weasels feeble feverish pleas 
 As he leads to defeat. I see no need to beat a speedy retreat. 
 The cost of upheaval a reasonable fee, 
 But I’ve always been meager and cheap. 
 I concede that it seems my demeanor is meek, 
 But I plead with the beast for the beatings to cease.

The Beastmaster

Produced by keen

Stop this train cause I ain’t tryna commit 
 Come claim the blame that I ain’t straining to get 
 Gotta get that paper, pay for mary jane and the debt 
 Get my runes in they head so that they stay for the set 
 Lately I tend to forget that they ain’t play with ‘em yet, 
 And f he aim to impress he better aim for the head. 
 I favor greatness while most would be complacent instead 
 Leaving lame pests tamed lamed labeled and wrecked. 
 Table your fables until the lazy daemon has fed. 
 He ain’t stable or able to cut the cable again. 
 Haters waiting to see his fate he’s staying in check. 
 Quite a strain on the raven to find a place for his nest. 
 Is he just playing insane? Is it worth taking that bet? 
 Till then watch what you say or keep his name out your breath. 
 You can go head and play, but if you stay out of step. 
 You’ll face the giant slayer’s fatal vorpal blade at your neck. 

 Body a beast the beast bang. I study emcees slang. 
 Get bloody when he sang, his teeth fangs, you weak gang 
 Could never compete, dang. These days I replay my refrain 
 Of cliches. Let me rephraze my statement. 
 Never been the greatest but he’s ever so blatant. 
 Sick of copy pastas, running through the paces. 
 Running outta options that’s just what we’re faced with. 
 Obnoxious. How did I get this jaded. 
 It may be toxic, I just can’t fake it.

Vorpal Blade

Produced by Matt Cattie

I am the Bic slayer, the bricklayer, the carpenter. 
 I stick craven bit players in hospital. 
 Giftsayer, legit mayor of obstacles. 
 Trick laden, gristle traitor apostle. 
 The dictator, I spit razors and gospels. 
 Six layered terminator colossus. 
 Skip haters. The bread breaker, the Godsickle. 
 I’m hostile to generic vacant impostors. 
 Give in to the grifter gift boom bap savior. 
 Bitter pill twitter kids jacking his flavor. 
 Trickster sick twisted riffraff castrator. 
 Mr. Rip a Zig-Zag and I’m back player. 
 Black the slayer, I am Vader with his mask off. 
 Crack black tops and I’m burning up yer laptops. 
 Picking scabs off, still thinking bout my last loss. 
 The mack soft but he’s ready for that track drop. 

 Y’ain’t ready for that track drop. Track drop. 
 Y’ain’t ready for that track drop. Track drop. 

 Goth kid lost it. Watch the shark get feral. 
 God with raw gift got the marks in peril. 
 Flawless fox, this hostage is sterile. 
 This scarecrow sparrow staring down the barrel. 
 A werewolf, careful, beware his curse. 
 Ock got the knowledge to make you berserk. 
 To cage him strangers erased him first. 
 He still got the skill left to take you to church. 
 His teeth at your neck. He’s the king of the beasts. 
 At least in his head which he rests on the street. 
 Left for undead again on his feet, 
 To tread where his demon’s first taught him to speak. 
 You and me we ain’t go about it the same. 
 Feuds and beefs: keep ‘em out of my lane. 
 Through the heat of defeat he tempers his blade: 
 A sage tongue of flame which he takes to the stage. 

 Y’ain’t ready for that track drop. Track drop. 
 Y’ain’t ready for that track drop. Track drop. 


 The dopes back. He the broke mack. Need a tailor. 
 The known Kracken of old, Vlad the Impaler. 
 He won’t master his own nasty behavior. 
 A throwback with the throned lackey, the failure. 
 Sho' ‘nuff, he done shown us his weaknesses. 
 Thrown us with his broken down pieces. Him 
 Grown up. He gone loaned us his thesises. 
 A cold gun with his flow honed is ceaseless. When 
 The beast is ready for the levy to blow. 
 With ease he get the message. Better get it to go. 
 The demon head is crowned set to let 'em down? No. 
 Feasting on power, his tower, his throne. 
 Cowards and clones can’t match the don dotta. 
 Bout to bout with the crow, then you better try harder. 
 Ten thousand hour flow, Black strapped to the alter. 
 Out with the old now back to the slaughter. 

 Y’ain’t ready for that track drop. Track drop. 
 Y’ain’t ready for that track drop. Track drop.

Bricklayer (Track Drop)

Produced by oldboi

I’d rather lose sleep than to get slept on 
 And i never preach peace with a smith and wesson. 
 Next one. Can I please hit the beat dead on. 
 The presence that I keep is my best weapon. 
 Getting threatened setting records getting nekkid for the craft. 
 Second guessing I’m a legend and you messing with my trap. 
 I’m a blessing on a track. Get a lesson from the mack. 
 They ain’t reckon with my knack. They been stepping on cracks. 
 This is for the G’s and this is for the hustlers 
 And anyone who sees that the beast is amongst us. 
 All these wannabes, sticky sweet mother fuckers, 
 Steady stuntin to the beat, sheep looking for the hustlers. 
 Often mistook; rarely mistaken. 
 Charlatan crook with the soul of a raven. 
 Forsaken soothsayer slanging books from your tape deck. 
 Tell me how you gonna sing my hook with your face wrecked? 

 Greatness at any cost. 
 Greatness. I’m a be great and I’ll do what it takes. 
 Greatness at any cost. 
 Greatness. 

 The wolf is crack with that voodoo math. 
 Stand back from the Black if yer juju’s whack. 
 On a track with the truth? Done knew who’s bad, 
 Cause your dude stick and move and yer kung fu’s trash. 
 In fact, doing pretty well for a Cobblepot. 
 Fade to black credits, all is well till the fossil flops. 
 Then I’m signing Satan’s pact for my father’s watch. 
 Greatness: never fake it. I’m'a take it, any cost. 
 What a loss, my friends. That it is. What a shame. 
 The mage staked claim. Set the stage for the game. 
 I waited for the devil; the devil never came. 
 I’m'a dance in the rain till the all know my name: 
 Blackwolf. Been nice, right from the beginning. 
 I’m gonna keep tying. You can blame my upbringing. 
 See the wise man singing, cause he’s gonna keep winning 
 And I’m not gonna die till I got 'em all singing.

Greatness at any cost featuring Rob Lindgren

Produced by keen & ostubash

Been a long time since I took my own medicine. 
 End of the line. Last stop for the Edisons. 
 Tesla is back, no room for the hesitant. 
 Ain't room on tracks when I unpack my fetishes. 
 Letruce is low. I’m quick with the dime. 
 Get it go and I’m back from the crime. 
 Let it get rolled and let me unwind. 
 Put on that old "Remember the Time." 
 Michael is king, but Michael is dead. 
 Ain’t it a thing? A beautiful wreck. 
 Still known for singing my soul for a check. 
 Still known for killing it every set. 
 Never respect that I pay my dues. 
 Every sentence is made to break through. 
 Never repent when I’m sent to the booth. 
 This revenant is bent on defending the truth. 

 The game is full of fakes 
 Put the butcher on the case 
 The game is full of lies 
 The butcher’s on the rise. 

 Philly that city. I made it my home, 
 But in Madrid you’ll find some of my soul. 
 So many scars I have yet to atone. 
 So many sins I am just skin and bone. 
 Leave me alone. I’ll do it myself. 
 Cobble a throne of bruises and welts. 
 Carry my stone I carry it well. 
 From what I’ve known I fashion my spells. 
 Fashion my spells? Fashion my look. 
 Fashion is hell so I’ll never get hooked. 
 Fashioned to sell so each play by the book 
 Asking to tell my tales right for the crooks. 
 Shook up a bit by the boy who cried shark. 
 Took up a pen and I write in the dark. 
 Carving these words into bullets and darts. 
 Fearing that one will fit right in my heart. 

 The game is full of fakes 
 Put the butcher on the case 
 The game is full of lies 
 The butcher’s on the rise. 

 When the butcher pushes back. Pressure cooker on a track. 
 Squalid scholar gotta holla back. Honor lap. 
 Hollow horror, follow that. Y’ain't wanna follow Black. 
 Sipping witchcraft jack, from his matte black flask. 
 All these masked lab rats they keep scratching at his back, 
 But they best act fast, because they forgot the mack 
 Spit that basilisk rap with that voodoo boom bap 
 And if they don’t shut they traps 
 I’m gonna school 'em how to act. 

 The game is full of fakes.

The Fishtown Butcher

Produced by keen

Broke, are you feeling it? Dope: are you dealing it? 
 Cause I simply can’t cope with the absence of healing this. 
 Smoke till I’m nearing it, the smoke where the ceiling is. 
 Feelings grow cold what I find so appealing is 
 The hopes what i really miss. No closer to nearing it. 
 Still can not broker a deal for the hero. Him 
 Blow the flow spearmint. Grow colder just hearing it. 
 Time takes its toll so they grow older fearing him. 

 I stutter statements. Watered down thieves can’t take it. 
 I weave phrases as I rip out dweebs braces. 
 Utter the breeze aces. Shuffle in thieves faces. 
 They lacing up they Asics just to keep pace with 
 My huddled frame that i struggle to keep wasted 
 While you basically tracing your weak fragrance. 
 Face it your weak sayings are basic so beat pavement. 
 Suffer defeat graceless faced with your replacement. 

 Which wannabes wanna beef with the beast? 
 I speak tongue in cheek till they got me on repeat. 
 Brother gutted these motherfuckers in utter defeat. 
 They must struggle to breathe if they can’t puzzle his speech. 
 I hobble foes got the cobblestone flow. 
 I don’t bottlenose those I just got a lot of prose. 
 I throttle chosen roles. You a broken home phone 
 And your homobhobe jokes, bro, I’m so over those. 
 Oh my lord. 
 Shackled to the rack with your whack ass rapping. 
 Ya got a bad knack for backing the wrong faction. 
 Bragging bout stacks, but your act, that’s plastic. 
 A higher tax bracket, a Cadillac Casket.

Cadillac Casket

Produced by thekeenone
Cello by Agnes Kline

MCBlackwolf

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