Part of a new track I'm working on..Dope on that personal tip. 

Light Love Living

First new song in months. Trying to do something new...Let me know how it strikes you.


Verse1
"This ain't no fast lane livin', this is pass lane scrimmage. I just snatch it out the air and run it back with what I'm given. I’m too chivalrous for pimpin', never been a dealer, I’d only rock "j's" to look clever like Dilla. Pale face, no scale, still a ghost face killa. my reality on display and ain't a show realer." These rappers ain’t go-rrillas, more like chimps in a tree. I tanya harding the mainstream, put a dent in they knees. I’m a villain, let these cats play the heroine,The shooter or the victim, either way the barrel win. You can fight or take flight, either way this bear-will win. if you feeling gassed up, I’ll put that ass in a barrel then

Verse2
Cause I’m not an animal in a cage, or an animal in a cave, I got that Cannibalistic eye-shine, I’m hannibal in a rage. I spray cans with no direction, a vandal that’s disengaged. I’ll pay my penance too my craft and let the fans keep the change. These days I’m feeling strange, But I’m no Angela basset. Better writer, better rapper, I’m better in every facet. on this mic a bullmastiff, good senses like bassets. Cause I’m seeking out the scent of a trail that’s gone tragic. Fuck blind leading the blind, I turn brail into to static, paint pictures with my words that turn eyes that failed into magic. It’s like my colon going spastic when I’m dropping this shit. 40 cats who claim they rap in the back of my whip. duct tape round they hands now they ain’t clapping that shit. ball gag blocks the air, they ain’t rapping bout shit. Ejecting dudes like bouncer, they make a splash and that’s it. Fuck flashes in the pan, these dudes splashing like bricks. 

Verse3
maybe Im deviating  too far from my inner self, But the demon Im demon-strating,  crawled out of my inner shell. wish my mom hadn’t de- menstruated, the egg and the inner cell. that Intersected with my pops and made me and my inner hell. There’s a child inside me crying in a broken and splintered cell. I got a sickness but I’m not dying, guess thats gold that glitters well. can’t find a silver lining in me, sitting on the shelf,  so blame the cloud inside of my mind then, for me not getting  wealth. so many years of silence, sitting writing for myself. Wishing  I could be so timeless, making time for someone else.  so now i’m one mans trash and no mans treasure, won’t auto-tune shit, I’d rather flow like fran Drescher. Had her vocal cords severed and run through a paper shedder, than rap a whole track about how I stack paper better. 

THE REAL-(Halloween Costume)

New track recorded today. written up to the 1 min mark, then all freestyle. Return to my earlier more dark emotional work. Proud of both parts. Feedback appreciated and enjoy.

Press Record (written/free)

first new verse in 5 months…almost no voice, but wanted to at least get something recorded. Hope ya'll enjoy and let a dude know how it strikes you.

Fire Inside

Best thing I've ever done. first verse...tell a friend to tell a friend.
Symmetry:
"Ive been chain smoking, brains broken, synapse misfiring. thinking back on my brother, whipping on them spitfires and doing kick-flips and 5-0 nose grinds. Now it’s bosses on some dick shit, like get it on your own time”. this life is an ocean, no mans an island, i  rap to shirk the notion that i’m suffering in silence. Searching for an answer, gravitate towards violence, my happy days are dead and they’ve been slain by a tyrant. but that’s reality, not a fallacy, my successes and my failures seem to share a strange duality. I can’t define normality, insane with no asylum, my minds been full of pain since the days of Soul Asylum. Now i stare into the stars and face the solstice crying, because it’s hard to cling to life in a constant state of dying. Trying to succeed, but that’s all it is, is trying, years can’t defy the days and the months, as they’re steady flying by em. clutching onto memories, precious through infinity, ain’t doing nothing with my life, so fuck dying with some dignity. i’m dying through my imagery, love and hate share symmetry, i love my girl, but hate the sum of patients she has given me".....More to come

Symmetry

whats to say...I have made an "actual song"...sorry for the singing, but its necessary.

Sunny (Over "Sunny Side Of Hell" by Grieves and Budo)

Another Freestyle...big surprise right. One stumble but otherwise good and it's 3 in the morning. holla!

beat knock freestyle

The best and most well rounded piece of hip hop I've made. super proud of this one!

Got to let it go

Was digging through old recordings and found this gem...Actually rather dope flow wise. Don't know why I never posted it...Enjoy!

B.S. Free-S

Rough draft of two of three verses for "words for life"....Obviously gotta finish it, but snowed in and wanting to get something up while I've got a captive audience...ENJOY

Words for life

Rough draft of track written and recorded today...First new track in awhile. Solid Writing, different kind of beat..I dig it, hope you do as well.

Let It Be

New reworked version of Let It Be. Third verse added, beat changed, hook altered....Enjoy!! leave feedback negative or positive is always positive..

Let It Be (Remix)

First verse of my first collaborative effort with my homie, new producer, Mike Vicious. Finished track and studio version hopefully coming soon.

Lyrics:
I'm David in the game, chucking rocks at Goliath.  I ain't here to take the throne, I ain't cut to be a tyrant. I'm a peasant, traded a scepter for this ink pen, lock bars down like underage drinking. You can call me Brinks then, equipped to secure. Walter white on the mic, everything I spit is pure.  cut it with the blues, then I move it on the streets. Then I Black and blue  the studio, bruising up the beat. Bruce-ing like Lee, with the kick and the snare. Got a passion for my craft, always thick up in the air. You can taste it and its bout time you face it, the number 1 cat, to give small town rap a facelift. Your words be on basic, mine beyond basic. You spit gun bars and I spit spent casings. Every shot I take at truth, is aimed to hit it's mark. While these fake thug lames, say they aimed to hit a narc. I hit em up and no I'm not Tupac. Hard working hands, that have never palmed two Glocks. Son of a hard working man, hustled for tube socks. From a broke city depressed as the Goondocks. 

OH!:First Verse(Beat By Mike Vicious of Phat A$$ Records)

Ian Lee is an Iowa city hip hop artist who approaches his craft more in the spirit of a poet than a "rapper". There are many Emotional and personally honest elements present that generally are lacking in the genre. he is also a proficient freestyler with a penchant for comedy.

Ian E. Lee

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