Study Of A Bull

Rainbow

TYKE is entirely self-produced, self-recorded, self-mastered, and self-written. It was created over a year and a half or so, spawning from places of grief & sadness but also places of confidence & perseverance. It's a body of work that celebrates the unique musical identity of its creator and his eclectic collection of influences. TYKE is a love letter to lessons learned in hard ways.

Sanctuary

Bouquet

No Sense

OPTIMISTA

Mountaineer

Robin

Main Character Syndrome

Tilt

Everywhere

Lived In

Beachfront

stumble, shoulder check the bouncer on the way out
I aint had enough until I lost this raincloud
have it my way like I'm frankie, boy
mom I'm fine, I'm only druggin on weekends
Off the deep end, I aint been sleepin,
Man i'm not done drinking
cut a line, self-loathing creeping
find me a european
call me a spic, gimmie a fuckin reason
Im brown, bitter, and seething.
eager to serve beatings
half nicaraguan, half puerto rican
wassup Trump?
dirty fingernails, a shot glass, a text from amanda
shoulda just stayed home and wrote stanzas
bitch im cancer. bloody knuckles and witty banter
pity standard. write in sanskrit
pander to wrong livin and right answers
kissin on cold women
strangle my old self by lit candle
brace for impact, im clutching handles
check the chip tooth smile
throwin shade like its goin outta style
concrete shame, waitin on a trial
chip on my shoulders, im over mild
over reacting, over zealous child
over worked and under satiated
fuck the world my official statement
you 808's im late registration or maybe graduation
homie this is basic
gravitating on my final straw of patience
leave a kardashian without a facelift
hazy mental, whiskey, denim, and some perky tits
pop a percocet, my pertinence is permanent
proving grounds, poems are pestilence
on my pedestal
im heaven sent

Never thought I’d see the day - - dialogues turnin gray
This talking shit is nonsense; use my eyes to communicate
Shorty’s eyes dilated, compensate me for the time she wasted
No red pill gon save you from the matrix
Agent Smith rocking hoes sans the latex
Hit neo wit a suplex
Fits of violence and great sex; aint showing up without a pay check
cant find my kicks at payless
50 paces west; turn n shoot
On my [ready to die], just [gimmie the loot] - - I’m murder proof
Call me Bishop bitch, I got the juice - - act tough and lose a tooth
In hot pursuit of money, bitches, and yeezy boosts
An inconvenient truth, this intravenous vibe
[victory] in my arteries, reporting live
Recording ordinance, gods reply
Wack rappers sounding so contrived – I don’t know how to lie
Losing brain cells chasing that first high
Mr west told me to touch the sky
4 deep, rolling up and puffing la
Apologize to ma
A sober mind don’t keep me somber, sovereign status strengthened over time
Difference in love and lust - - a fine line
Rather malt liquor over wine
Decepticon hunting energon
Rap divine - - in my prime 
Hoping satan got complacent by the time I die
-looking to overthrow the throne
-show up to hell like daddys home
-rapping monotone, call me hodgy, feel my mind gone
-only the based god can stop me, this the terror dome
-a public enemy, a crown of thorns
The world aint ever getting moved by poems
-but I could tell you some that saved my soul 
I need a whiskey double, order up
Bitch I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough 


Happy Hour [prod. by ezekey(▰˘◡˘▰)]

You look cuter on the Internet
 I'm sorry, tryna keep the lies in check 
And I'd be lying if I said that I still wanted to have sex 
You're making me real stressed 
You know what, I can tell this date is over 
It ain't like I'm some Casanova 
And lately I've been feeling distant; colder 
Drinking a jack and coke without the soda 
Been struggling to meet the monthly quota 
Overdosing on human condition, cold shoulders, and cups of folgers 
Nothing match better than coffee and smokes 
And I ain't talking bud, that nicotine it slowly chokes 
But it calms me down 
Them greens linger too long, I need my feet on the ground 
And my memory bad enough but fuck it, roll that Dutch 
Don't know what I'm running from but I feel it catching up 
Right behind me breathing on my neck. It's in my cup. 
In my blunt. In that dead eyed stare. 
It's in ya palms, in ya hair, dripping off your lips. it's everywhere. 

-mr perfect. What, you think you fucking special? 
-nah baby gurl I know I'm ugly. Fucking mental 
A real basket case, don’t get too close
I think id rather die alone
This a fucking awful second date

You want my honesty? You fucking got it. 
And honestly just keep the jacket, I don't fucking want it 
I shoulda stayed home, these bars just make wanna vomit 
If he touches me again he'll catch hands, that's a fucking promise  
***I know I shouldn't be so quick to snap 
I said I'm working on it bitch, get off my fucking back 
Feeling cornered, it's so tight in here I'm on attack 
Ima go bum some cigarettes cause only addicts buy packs 
***I'm real good at pushing yall away 
I'm real shit at making yall stay 
The real shit I kick is not for play 
Don't touch the speakers; yall in harms way 
The lord giveth and he take away 
And he take take take until there's nothing left 
Baby wait wait wait; just lemme catch my breath 
It's getting late late late, I know you need your rest 
  But I need you come give me a kiss Tell me I ain't a mess


Second Date [prod. by letsruntrack.]

You know I never seen you without all your makeup
Right now im slightly vulnerable, fresh off a breakup
And I hope you don’t mind if I stare
Pomegranate and sweat scents coming from your hair
I was thinkin we could leave a tip and bounce to a quiet place
Its too loud, I think I need a change of pace
Its too dark; cant see your pretty face
dim light shining of them lips, girl, lemme get a quick taste
I don’t believe in perfect but the way you walk is something else
Lets scratch the surface, and compound my failing mental health
Can you cure me? Help me pin down my sense of self
Those hips are therapy and baby theres a lot to tell
You’re a rarity. Im brash, jagged, and obscene
You should be scared of me, peasents aint known for charming queens
Must make me a king
Albert camus clutching a mic
Still breathing out of spite
Sisyphus puhsin up stones
Putting your name in my phone
This dimes aint right
Texting sierra lione
Keep my game tight
Girl I I aint tryna leave alone
I think its sexy when you call me on my bullshit
Hoes is boring, got me speaking from a pulpit
Pulling punches, pulling out my dick
Don’t need a brainless bitch, im tryna wife the one that makes me feel stupid
Jus being real,excuse my loose lips, I blame cupid

Girl it aint easy to make me laugh but here I am wit a smile on my face

I love the way you laugh
The way your voice cracks when you get mad
The way you bend your arms when you happy or excited 
Theres something bout those eyes that’s so inviting
So enticing
Slight oeach fuzz on ya upper lip
The way you whimper when I touch your clit
Pull your hair back, pull you closer for a kiss
So intoxicating, squeezing on your hips
Curl ya toes and bite ya lips
Make a fist, pull the sheets up
Still faded of the cheebah
Got you prayin to jesus
Bend over, touch your feet, I wanna hear you beg
Matter a fact, turn around, use your mouth instead
You gotta earn it first, my hand stroking ya smooth legs
Don’t gotta rush it; take ya time; enjoy it while you can
Saliva drippin down your chin; I taste you on my hands
Still got more wine left, be a crime to let that go to waste
Hands around your neck; your hips gyrate, keep up that steady pace
We got all the time in the world


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