Kicking phone raps once more 
 
Lyrics:

Rattle off 16 that lean into my habits, sabbatic with all my writins 
Fightin back with my pen, trend to a contrasting feature of the unknown 
Shown my act beyond belief, beseech a another wack MC with tact to weave up out of my zone.  
Address me in a timely form, you’ll get back more than you paid for 
Award tour for the poor that bore two times the fruit felt by your youth association 
Left my community agape and killed them by being complacent 
So my ego always chasing for a space that fit the litany of my errors 
It’s a terror in reflection, negativity that beckons 
I reckon timely benefits is seen in sin the cynicism often wins 
Lofty kindred seen as spirits speaking to my expectations always chasing sketchy tracings 
The first hand that draws is jenga shaking thoughts of trading doubling back on my instinct 
When ends meet who’s side is looking crooked? 
We gon find out by the bookend or the bookings 
Shook my hand, relayed his name, up or down felt like the same walk of shame 
Refrains was more so blatant, caping for the metaphor of a hero 
Literally speaking they all zeroes 
Teetered hands like a dichotic, the fear of God made as a man 
All created with no plan

Rap Shit Vol.2-Samiyam, Blowed

A letter to my brothers


By day break, this scapegoat must be hung public if Tragedy to stake claim on whether its a performance or execution. Similar when played plain. Broken soapbox snapshot. Fits the song. See Victor's monster repair his heart in final breaths because he's fated to stitch it wrong. Thus the comedy of an "Orphaned Child of A Bastard Movement" God bless the spare parts that willed him into moving. "Fall in line" where? Even the blood splatter creates music. Drips like wine into river carved by despair yet followed by the stares. You can see the mask crack! Veil fell. Heartbreak is abstract and every king will get laughed at. Diptych: Love/pain. Heaven is past that. Life turns a new leaf when one reaches the last laugh. At great lengths, triumph will wear a muddy, bloody uniform. A truth often linked to ships destined to sink but made it to harbor. Watch saplings reaching, releasing golden notes reading "Nature still mates with the Father." Do you feel the thunder in the darkness? Sonic sunlight that sucks hope from the sky in orange, purple. When properly done right, this image is triptych to illustrate these misfits. Muses for my neurosis dancing on top of my battered instinct: one was a jackal, one was asshole, one was angel whose halo was really a shiny lasso. When the gallery opened to the audience all they saw was a mirror. Laughter... because that observation reminds me of my last flow. If/When the top is ever reached, I'll memorize where the grass grows and dedicate part of my life to watering where that grass choked. The difference between the truth and a lie is a lie has to make sense and no one cares where the money comes from if it pays rent. There is only one way to be honest and a million ways to take it (with) corresponding faces for heights un-trekked by geniuses to cowardly to take them. No, this is the beginning to a road of ellipses because not even a dog will sit down until he's finished.

03 War Church - Not Even A Dog

“High John The Conqueror Speaks”

Five years later....

N.I.G.G.E.R.... nigger (pronounced nig-uh). Dodging “Broken Window” prisons. Interesting stress invested. Soldier affixed to an unassigned war. Wounds rewritten as tattoos drunkenly purchased under a bad moon. Urban Plan the heard of man to the slaughter under the act of “protesting” anchored to an ancient human place of ruin. Planet ticking, tilted, stationed in “Storyville” orbiting an manipulated culture: cult x ultra. Process thoughts through substractive paintings and attractive phrases. Strength of a porcelain fortress or porters force fed to the dust bunnies of the upper crust. Yet, (they) knuckles up for portraits. Welcome to the horse head pillow karma and the apologist that come with it; a swing state of mind applied to whatever is comforting. Dealing with “context visibility,” ink sleeve filigree  and compt’d drinks. Tracing most ghost back ounce pours mean to slow nights into pretty lights but forced tortured portraits under the eyelids in silent seconds. At most, floored by the crowded boat by the “after-hours” building light. The after life rented of “feeling right”.The backward showers to heal or kill the time. A mass of cowards acting sour lacquered in a villains light. I see it as a lantern. I see them as patterns. I see it as beacons for every roach that scatters. Its like playing dice with passion. A handshake with lies to plagiarize the kinship. Its different when A-alikes are laughing. This is steel/cement with cigs, Zippo lights and matches. It’s kiddy-tinged fiction that takes its time with habits. It’s a Wonderland rabbit quoting Sunz of Man verses while tallying a congresses favorite type of “Blackness”. And that’s an awkward human high five. They auction you yet offer you a propaganda “why try?” They often move to drop its view into Op ed by-lines. An authors tool to crop his views into curated fines. That’s why we say it (nigger) so much to fill in the blanks or we lost and its just a prison without feeling restrained.

That’s an impossible feat and I’ll repeat

Imma live life after this one time

We went from Bill of Sale to barcode at the speed of deifying Jesus and all we got was a balcony to believe in? Bleed in? Too Alive! when the liver, lung and heart unionize. Removing lines from the paper as contracts or rorschachs for the neighbors. After the fire but before the half breed life comes favors a janitors management and caters to the sanity collapsing, per season, to stay in fashion with weaklings. This is not a grin! It’s just misplaced fuck I forgot to give. To logic of faking sibling with shiftless. Maybe I’m just fishing the offended like a modern cynic, the gulp before describing ‘black clothing.” American Gothic Architecture and what pigeon holds. Blood pressure predicting my future through chick bones. Post-Rap! Post Black! Bleached Arethas and Winehouses with dirty faces. Blonde kids running around their African mother/maids. Rather, their African-made mothers. Rather, their maids from Africa that acts mothers to feed their own kids. Or the sum the distance. Slightly sorry if I localize tragedy or vocalize the downward spiral like an outsider masterpiece but I just saw a man bring a baby grand to the park,  then play dead composers, shit on a cat with buckets of scraps brave enough to play his own work and thought “damn, whats more American than that?” In heritage, embarrassment  so arrogant and crass. It varies in its parries yet stays Aryan and Black. Nefarious, yet there he is, in legacy of man. NEFARIOUS YET THERE HE IS IN THE LEGACY OF MAN! The collecting and reconstructing echoing forgotten sounds... and how we act like our fathers when their not around! The sum of the sun that pass through eyelids and silence in between evictions. 3 decades of dust. Rust colored water. Someone else’s daughter. The amorphous order of importance in the structure we built...

WAR CHURCH

01 War Church - High John The Conqueror Speaks

Welp, another one finds it's way out.

"The Unseen, pt. 1."

Raps by AMS.
Instrumental by Sev Seveer.
Recorded at DEATH JUKE STUDIOS.

"Strange Days, Stranger Tomorrows."

Coming in 2017.

#FCLA.

The Unseen, pt. 1

An album featuring Lucki, Thouxanbanfauni, King Louie, WarholSS, Alex Wiley, Trapo, Qari, Mick Jenkins, and Sen Morimoto. Produced entirely by Mulatto Beats. 

https://twitter.com/mulattobeats
https://twitter.com/mickjenkins
artwork https://twitter.com/djdiabeteschi 
mix https://twitter.com/charlyxhustle

Available on all major streaming platforms!

Guilty Automatic (feat. Mick Jenkins)

(A. Levin, I. Carroll)
Artwork by @neonpajamas.
Produced by @knowsthetime.
Recorded and mixed by @SolarFive.

First single from A Mixtape As God Intended, Vol. One. Coming soon.

Five Courses (prod. by knowsthetime)

The start of a new year can often be a time of stress as we are often tempted to try new challenges and take on more responsibility in our already busy lives.  And without a proper plan of attack, things can get out of hand fast. In this episode, we lay out an easy to remember  mantra and plan for 2018, so you can come out on top.

98: Keep it Lean in 2018

Song from our upcoming record: Ayowolf Presents: Teddy Brown Brown
Produced and mixed by ALXNDRBRWN
Vocals written and recorded by Teddy Faley

Lyrics:
With where we’ve all been at of late
I think it's safe to say we all could use an extra nap today
Panic’s kinda creeping in
So everybody’s sleeping in!
We can reconvene tomorrow afternoon and by the weekend,
We’ll be straight
I've always been a fan of sleeping late
I've always been the man at being great
I've always been a canopy of pain
Not understanding that my only job’s the rain
Some things are only built to file complaints
So I'm walking with my homie, 
I said “Gus, these assholes think they know me...” 
Know what he then told me?
Nothing, he’s a dog, but I was thinking about it closely
Realizing all this mess has been my whole stee
So it’s just another Saturday
Just a couple stores open, keep your dads away 
Our president got half a brain
He shits his pants, comes on out for accolades
And half my graduating class claps away 
Sometimes I wish I wasn't here on this earth
Sometimes my dog tries to play with deer and his feelings get hurt
That’s all the same gear
No matter what I do I'll still be fighting how I feel
And Gus will always scare away the deer 

What the hell is up now, I'm stuck now?
Ain't had a cigarette since uptown, I shoulda took the bus down

I try to be discreet but my whole shit is no composure
See me coughing in the street, I'm just smoking, it's not Corona 
We decided the whole world’s going home, I been at home, son 
Call me when the last of the drink stores’s doors shut
I’ve been around a block or two, just never seen so many empty
Usually there's broads that's say “Oh hey, it's Teddy”
Usually there's bars and people sit inside them
Usually it's hard to do, but people trying
Back when masks were metaphors for hide behind-in 
So holler at your boy, but keep it stealth
CDC says keep it six feet in-between us, I say twelve
Clean your room and try to cook up something something for yourself
I learned to turn the oven on today myself, I'm feeling swell

Deer Friends

Chicago '85. Heavy, Progress Rap. South Side. Yeah

03 War Church - Not Even A Dog

SKECH185

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