I Fucking Sang

Wrong Way (prod. Lo Prophet Sound)

While you argue on whether Tupac or Nas be better
I'll whoop your ass and outrap them both in my Cosby Sweater
He goes to parties just to roofie the drinks
and pours bacardi on his groupies while he pukes in the sink

type of dude who used to ball with his fraternity friends
but now he only goes to court for his paternity tests
and while at parties, in the corner, he be shotgunning beer
while everybody staring at him hope he's not coming near

but house parties ain't his thing, so he just drinks in the bar
but bars really ain't his thing, so he just drinks in his car
Used to be an extrovert, but people make him disconcerted now
and just to start his day, he's gotta swallow six concertas down,
down a fifth of Hennesey, hit a joint of persian bud,
sacrifice a unicorn and drink a pint of virgin blood,
and that's just for the morning- every night he draws a pentagram
and lights a couple candles in the backseat of his rental van
then hops into the front to rev the engine and to test the wheels
and ends up doing 90 while he'd doped up on Lunesta pills

His credit score has slowly sunk from nearly every angle
since they found him on to Catch a Predator with scented candles,
a box of camels and with just a fucking bathrobe on
until he saw the cops and started running out in socks in sandals

On top of that, this motherfucker's narcissistic,
every second on his soundcloud he be checking all the hard statistics
likes to brag that all his fans'll play his album louder
the problem is, his fans are whiter than some talcum powder
his largest demographic found him out on instagram,
that's why his listens come from adolescents and his hipster fans
so now he's trying to get his album sold around the clock
the only place he's sold one is at Starbucks- on the counter top
that he bought himself while working there while he was serving lattes
to some college women eating quinoa with their yerba mate

His taste in women's like how Velma look in Scooby-Doo,
they got him talking funny, like he's Elmer from the Looney Tunes,
so instead of trying he just watches films, like yesterday
he watched three interracial pornos and the Selma movie too

He's out of touch cause he's got cabin fever
telling friends to find their happiness, not telling him he hasn't either
he's well-aware if he complains in his songs
that he can claim that it was fake and he's just playing along
and since it's all inside his head no one can say that he's wrong
although it follows him to every single stage that he's on
and every page that he draws is like a cage with a lock
that he can only open if he wins the race with the clock,
and if he just confronts his feelings without trying to hide,
but every time he does, it just feels like he's dying inside

but soon enough he keeps on hoping that it will elapse
until it does, I guess he'll keep on coping with these silly raps
fill the gaps between the lines if you're that sure he's kidding
cause he sort of is but on the other hand he sort of isn't

V.II (beat by Ours Samplus)

Starman remix

Crazy

17.04.2016 2

I can't help but feeling like I don't do shit.

Crazy (prod. MikesPro)

Fedarro X Kevin Ryan - Bad Chick Bandit

prod X I X X, @jeff-kaale

I don’t spit fire, 
I compress and I spit carbon atoms
not the fallen prophet,
I’m the pilfer-fruit-from-gardens Adam
when I was born my mom and dad got silver lutes and harps thrown at 'em
from the hands of Zeus, it’s hard to fathom, I write all my bars in Latin,
I see Mars and Saturn in the arches of my metacarpals
Papa told me Mama taught the moon to glow and stars to sparkle
and artistry herself was startled when she carved me out of marble
I don’t put a price on life, I sharpie markered on the bar code

I had a dream where I came face to face with Aphrodite 
in a closet full of sneakers, half adidas, half were nike,
wrap my psyche up in styrofoam, my words in struggle raps
and double-back them in a couple flaps of verbal bubble wrap
my culture taught me I should be afraid of strangers,
and be afraid of changes, and be afraid of danger,
and I don’t want a cup of coffee in the comfort of my cubicle
that’s why I make decisions where I always choose the stupid one,
I must admit it’s super fun, and I know where my future’s going
I mapped the whole thing out at 10 and just now called an uber for it 

and finally it's moving

Off The Jump

lutes. // X I X X

prod. @jeffkaale

My exes? No, I don’t think about them
I shrink around them
I go to see my shrink about them
On desperate nights sometimes I’m liking every picture on their LinkedIn albums, 
just in case they’re single,
I send winky symbols, I just hint it at ‘em,
I’m not thirsty, I’m just counting fingers at the drinking fountain,
I feel like I’m drowning when I introduce myself to crowds: 
like hi, hello, I dig your sense of style, 
I saw your face across the room and grinned a while,
I wonder, are you into smiles? I pinned a pile of polaroids up on my wall, 
I wish you’d be in one,  a ring or child or wedding hall or aisle, you’d wouldn’t see in them, 
I must profess I self-profess myself a cinephile,
I’ve got every single indie title soundtrack out on indie vinyl
I’ve got some on USB, just tell me where to send the files,
if you think this is dragging on, then you should read my tinder bio,

I used to go to central park in cargo pants and whittle bark off little trees 
like Leonardo to my heart’s content, with car keys from my 97’ Civic on a bench,
I’d grab my metro card and clutch a cup of chocolate from a vendor cart,
and then depart deep underground and check the clock and metro chart,
and that is where I met her, charcoal fingers, she was sketching art, 
my self-regard leapt twenty notches when she looked at me,
I told her I wished I could etch the world out with my pencil marks,
she held the charcoal out, our fingers touched and crept apart,
and when they lingered, 
lightning struck, I know, I saw electrodes spark,
and when she smiled a hundred volts
her pearly whites were thunderbolts,
the room around us did a couple somersaults,
the earth had shifted off it’s poles,
another jolt went through me when she twirled her necklace
we were so electric, I swear the third rail was getting jealous

she curved a crater on the paper with the conté crayon
every stroke she lay spoke to my spirit like she called a séance
her fingertips could conjure chaos, every splash of color camouflaged 
into the page, I swear that she had lingerie on,
I felt the rumble of the subway tunnel crumble up
she perforated scraps of sketches, gave em’ to me crumpled up, 
and bundled up and waved to me and walked toward the edge 
I mustered up the strength to wave back and then dipped off of the bench
the train tiptoed to the ledge, it’s open doors demanded entry
she got in and whispered to me from inside that it was empty
and my heart, it started drumming, my stomach, it started numbing,
the doors began to slide, 

and then she asked me,
are you coming?


charcoal. // X I X X

Rapper from Baton Rouge Louisiana, on a cross country trip to find inspiration and a home.

I Fucking Sang

TheBeardedRapper

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