Instrumental used is Otto Croy, by Odjbox. Check him out in the link below, he does amazing work, and their EP 'Swamp Stomp' is free on Bandcamp (though you should throw some money at them, I certainly did). Thanks to my friend Sarah for providing vocals in the chorus. And thanks to Arnold Goddamn Schwarzenegger for providing the world with so many laughs over his career.

Find me on facebook - https://www.facebook.com/conp44
Odjbox - http://odjbox.com/

Lyrics

Hope you leave enough room for my fist,
I'll get that shit down your throat, might have to lube it a bit,
Been bowl smoking, rim job, and I blew off my lid,
That toilet fucked, but at least it stop me losing my shit,
Rock up to Sochi with Barbosa's skeleton crew,
So you know Putin doing what I'm telling him to,
I get up in his face, with that breath smell like a zoo,
And talk enough ish to turn a fucking pelican blue,
When I'm at the girl's parents' house in a wifebeater,
Enough red flags go up for a game of minesweeper,
But it's ok, Pezzy spiked the sangria,
Put a little something something in the last 5 litres,
Times hard? Try bars, tight arse? Then fuck it,
Get blunted, shove a couple legs up it, then chuck it,
All out in a big red bucket, next dump it,
All over Abbott's chicks at a Libs' press junket.

(Chorus)
Life ain't about fate, it's about what you make it,
So for goodness' sake, when the game comes along I'll play it,
My house of cards might fall apart, become history,
I'll count my starts, if it's all too hard, I'll admit defeat,
But I won't know how to say it

You're never going to find love hanging round at sexpo,
But life get a little interesting chilling with a lezbo,
Unpredictable the new word for Pez so,
Don't be surprised you turn round and I've burned down your local Tesco,
There's no point hanging off what Pez say,
Like, sensei, teach me how to double entendre,
Well first cunt, you've gotta pronounce it right,
And if you can't do it, we ain't going out tonight,
So come along, Padawan, I'll teach you how to fight,
I'm that big, bad, toting-baby-powder-type,
See the hound, kick him down and I'm spitting in his face,
Try talk me round, I'm eating every fucking chicken in this place,
I'm told, revenge best served ice cold,
With a shot of eggnog and a couple eyeballs,
Swear to god, not a lie told,
Standing on the bible, screaming out 'IT AIN'T MY FAULT!'.

Just give me a bit more room,
'Cos my house outta space like the shit's Barsoom,
Bet you think that your dip's got a king's bathroom,
'Til I comes a dancing up like I'm in Khartoum,
Driving out in a rickety ute,
Like, I've got a couple chickens to coop, I turn a pigeon to soup,
Tickety boop, man, I never give a lick of the truth,
And if they ask, don't be suh silly, I give 'em that Italy boot,
Yeah that's my picture of truth,
Run up in my own house, like 'GIMME THE LOOT',
Man I just go gung ho and live with the proof,
Y'all in that gun show ticketing booth, I got to give it to youze,
I don't know why I'm on the runway to hell like Dante,
Ego Pacino any given Sunday, 
Or at least that's what your mum say, shit's one way.

P44 x Odjbox - Ahnuld

Instrumental is Supergeil by Der Tourist.

Started off as a comparison of my old vs. new style of lyrics, so I decided to repurpose an old verse for a bit of fun. Lyrics below. 



Won it on the back pedal, kill it on a front foot,
Never said I wasn’t anything else but that good,
Black hood, head down, let the work week bore me,
Sat mute, let my words speak for me,
Truth was corny, you could call me out,
But I doubt you could stick to forty four’s pace,
Gimme some floor space, and a mic,
Watch the floor disintegrate, as the boards leak through with the sweat from my face,
They call the technology age a gold era,
Society falls, check it on youtube and myspace,
We’ll bring it back, you’ll be the pallbearers,
We forever, y’all market the weak,
We razor sharp, here to carve out a niche,
Came in from the cold, took the art from the streets,
Why gig night’s my favourite part of the week,
And it’s hard to defeat this part of the beast,
Got hard and it beats, lot faster than speeds,
Ferrari could reach, and the father’s a Greek god,
Ares unleashed, with a hardened belief,
In the last of Mohicans,
Sharp as the teeth, on the shark on the reef you’re trying to pass to the beach,
So just learn from the lessons the harlequin teach,
On a  branch on the tree in the garden of Eden,
Killed backpack rap, so I’ll never bring a snapback cap,
Probably be a turban and an anthrax jab,
Worms wanna beef, can that crap,
Hit the ground running, just to watch NASDAQ crash,
Got the sentinels deader, than the nebuchadnezzer,
Snakes on the run now, we Kevin Bacon in Tremors,
Planet Terror endeavour, in the room, elephant weather,
Get ghost, looking whiter than Pelican feathers,



You know that I don’t care, I won’t wear,
No black suit,
I know that you won’t dare, to go there,
Cos that’s you,
You know that I won’t bear, your faux cares,
It’s so cruel,
And I know that you won’t spare, me no stare,
Cos I hate you,



Got a suspense need like David Fincher,
Might think a thousand words paint a picture,
But I only need one verse, gotta catch up first,
Think fast, no time to babysit ya,
Got torn tissue where I tied the suture,
Cutting my teeth left a couple nasty scars,
So you pick out a nice tie to suit ya,
I’ll reinvent myself like Marky Mark,
I never met no big time producer,
Still hit the mic like a fucking star,
So don’t tell me you don’t like my music,
I won’t tell you to park your car, up your arse,
Run around like a Baptist pastor up in Gaza,
It only gets harder, harsher, I’m Ali Baba,
Forty thieves, tell a thousand stories, 
Just to run from karma,
In Milwaukee, t-shirt saying I’m with Dahmer,
Going bar to bar, party after afterparties, party harder,
Streets looking like a panorama,
Such a nasty bastard,
A shitshow, it’s okay,
You’re pissed bro, I know mate,
Been heroes, since 08,
We disco, you so fake,
I never gave a fuck about a silly maiden delegating what I ain’t and what I am, I’m OUT,
Probly throw a temper tanty when I ran a middle finger up your panties, right one poke your EYES OUT,
Know why I’M LOUD? ‘Cos I won’t fathom,
That I DOUBT, my own actions,
You might FIND OUT, that if you TRY OUT,
A little confidence, you’ll stop prozaccing




P44 x Der Tourist - No Black Suits (Supergeil)

Backing track is Pretty Lights - Done Wrong, from A Colour Map of the Sun. You can download the entire album for free at www.prettylightsmusic.com.


P44 x Pretty Lights - Drive (Done Wrong)

Beat is taken from Gramatik's 'Beatz and Pieces vol. 2'.

Lyrics: 

I never change much, evolution, maybe, but my way’s stuck,
Still shoveling shit from the waist up, in an oasis,
Of booze, dames, drugs, and other shit,
Trying to find enough time to skype my mother with/
Ey yo, they tell me, that I need an attitude check,
But my chickens ain’t come back to roost yet, I do the kangaroo step,
Leap a continent in search of that Xanadu bet,
I never bother with a parachute check/
I don’t bother with what I cannot do, I prefer Canada,
Or Germany, so just chill with your battle bars I,
Got bigger plans to master, non-stop travel back in cattle class,
I stick out like a kindergartner brandishing a cannon blaster/
Heart got a little darker, skin looking like alabaster,
Still getting a few dirty looks from the girlfriend’s father,
But never gave two fucks 'bout the two cents of a cattle farmer,
I’m searching for the perfect panorama up in Panama, I/
Got to pack the rafters, still a canny bastard,
You get served, there’s no sorry mate, what am I, Patrick Rafter?

If I came with a warning, it’d be avoid excessive use,
And potentially unethically produced,
Which is ironic, because I’m vegetarian in truth,
But give you leather skin from weathering abuse, and I'm perpetually confused/
Because I don’t see the point of being phony,
Unless you’re a leg joint that’s prosthetically produced,
I have sex the same way I step up in the booth,
I do one take, then exit through the roof/


I'm felling better than I’ve ever been, feeling evergreen,
Supping on your Grandma’s ephedrine, wake up man, smell the kerosene,
I'm Jumping off a two floor mezzanine, 
Into a pool that's choc full of promethazine/
They not asking where I’ve been, they asking me to stay there,
For all they know, I run their fucking day care,
Abrasive as ever, sorry love, that ain’t getting better,
No girl’s gonna get me to changing my temper/
There's a couple crimes of which I’m still a major offender,
Kicking ass, getting names and numbers, no more a lazy bugger,
Went from major bludger to a crazy fucker, and now I,
Work harder than that child slave making your sweater/
Baking the bread up in a pastry vendor,
Working April - November so I can take off December then heading straight to Slovenia,
Feeding my habit like a baby’s placenta,
I follow plans straight to the letter, you can’t, better label 'em better/
I’m not nature over nurture, I’m a face under a burka,
There’s a lot more to it than meets the eye,
And you’re basically a jerk if you can’t take it, you deserve it,
Sort it out, peace of mind’s not an easy find/
Cos real living’s hard to define and harder… no,
I can read it fine, it just needs to be redefined,
So if I ain’t your type or make you board, get them motherfucking keys aligned/

P44 - Classhole (from Gramatik's While I was Playin' Fair)

44 bars for November.

Beat is 'Nie lubimy robić" by Donatan RÓWNONOC.

Lyrics:

Fuck what it says on the assembly manual,
I am Sam, not meant to be Samuel,
Only thing meant to be short is my name,
Never one to pull up short in a game,
See me dipping in a Parisian river,
Killing shit, bitch in short I’m in Seine,
Calendar player, just start flipping, once I’m winning,
Fuck it, just call it a day,
Hungover now, don’t call me today,
I’m on the shitter, don’t call me away,
I know I’m a cunt, don’t call me to say so,
Ain’t no sucker, I know that I’ll pay,
Just let me suffer, no chess piece mother,
I’m no king, no rook, no pawn, no way,
Calm down bud, just let these fuckers,
Get the best of me, no way, José, Olé,


Complex lyrical skill, I’m thinking I’ll kill,
Any single syllable fool,
Don’t ask me questions you know the answer to,
Yes we really do think that we’re cool,
I said that first track out, don’t remember it?
Neither do I, now that you mention it,
Oh 12, great year, glad to see the end of it,
13, what’s up? Let’s climb Everest….


Last couple months, hell of a cunt,
Did a lot of dumb shit, know that I can’t,
Deny it, why would, I but, no point really,
So just go with it, fuck,
Last few tracks been fuckin’ sick,
But what’s the point when you can’t get gigs,
So from now on we gonna bump a whip,
Shouting P and Con are for the kids,
Ahhh, bodybag, cocky man, hell yeah,
I have got 5 months on welfare,
I am not gonna do that well when,
I have to rely for myself, errrrrrr,
I have got no real funds, 
Just a lust for real fun,
So let’s go good will hunting,
With a really fucking big gun,
Or I could just stop boozing,
Say all the brain cells I’m losing,
What a beautiful mind, let’s ruin it,
So so so so so intuitive, 
Or I could just stop boozing,
Say all the brain cells I’m losing,
What a beautiful mind, let’s ruin it,
So so so so so intuitive,


44 Bars - January (Donatan RÓWNONOC Remix)

April's instalment, Been lazy on this lately.

44 Bars - April (Keny Arkana - Echos)

Originally from Melbourne, living in whatever country is currently tolerating my presence. If you like the music, find us on facebook/si tu aimes les chansons, trouve-moi a facebook/wenn du die Liede gern hast, find uns durch facebook: www.facebook.com/conp44

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