big man samsa :D

I call the shots, I run the bulls, I’m Michael Jordan
Hit it with a little bit of push and a little bit of pull when the goddamn mic recordin’ 
I bring the Heat, I rep the East, I’m like the Celts
I don’t even know what to do  with the gold that I get
Bitch, I’m Michael Phelps

I’m like Lebron, I get the gold, I’m Shere Khan, Y’all carry bronze
I’m Randy Moss, I’m Mary Kom, my game on roids, I’m Barry Bonds

I got a cancerous horde of fans like I’m Lance on the Tour de France,
with a quarter gram of performance enhancers trans/planted in my veins
with 808’s and bourbon whiskey, 
rappers that battle with me fadeaway like Dirk Nowitzki,

but listen, a couple of years and Khan’ll be rappin’ in college arenas
over the net where I’m  serving you bitches, all of you haters can call me Serena
Call me Sabrina, the way that I’m rappin’ and bringing the Magic I’m Tracy McGrady
Y’all motherfuckers stay warming the bench, and the Khan get way more play like he’s Brady
 

 


Sports

Wait, hold up.  

Let me get this J rolled up

I’ll tell you motherfuckers 
what you gotta pay me for a verse
if you let me get the fucking payroll done 
 
Y’all could offer your first born child 
and I’d still bounce out like its’ girls gone wild, 
Style so killer that my words on bail, 
all my verbs in jail and my verse on trial 

all about the bass, no  treble 
first place on the track, gold medal
Shere never get into a situation 
where he gotta choose, never lose cause the Khan don’t settle 

y’all don’t move like your bikes won't pedal 
think you gon’ blow like your mics’ gunmetal
but that shit seem like planting a damn seed,
leavin’ it and hopin’ that it might grow petals 

think you mad cold but you tykes come gentle 
till’ you get popped like a tight blood vessel
y’all motherfuckers really going out of style
like some cowboy boots with the rhinestone pebbles

Line game sharp like a limestone pyramid
Y’all act hard but your rhymes don’t merit it,
The facts are that your act starts played out
and you lack bars like a backyard playground
but I rap like a track star makes rounds
when I go faster than nascar greyhounds 
Y’all burnouts are like racetrack flame-outs
looking at me spit a like spacecraft came down

Y’all rusty with dumbed down bars out
like parts found in a rundown car pound
My eight-track when it’s played back bar none	  
gets the crowd revved like a Maybach start sound

I really feel like you rappers need guidance
Y’all rap ‘bout the same three items,
freestyling bout’ weed, greed, violence, 
we don't need these from you, we need silence

Y’all say that my tracks need a damn hook
Fuck you, why don’t y’all hacks read a damn book
Y’all about as well-read as the self-help
shelf in a jail library cell in the backwoods


Yo, fuck the goons and dudes who confusing their 
youtube views as a proof of some movement 
All they do’s interviews and reviews
but there’s too few crews just improving their music
 
Y’all prolly like Khan’s being cinematic, 
I’m prolly like nah, see, I’m really mad
I was taught to keep my head down even when I’m at it
Then I see these cats getting green like a lily pad 

All these dogs got a dot com blog and a vlog
and a blah and a blah and a twitter page
It doesn’t matter how much shit you got up on the internet,
though bitch, if you all never been on stage


See, this shit’s gettin’ pretty old’ 
Some shitty ass kid makes a video 
with a shitty rap on a track that’s forgettable
Couple days pass, see him dance on the Ellen Show
to a damn crowd with some middle aged mom’s in it,
nearly puts me fit of rage watching it,
like they made it cause they rappin’ to celebrities

Someone tell me though, what happened to integrity?

Straight Bars Volume 1

Yo, straight out the dungeons of suburban streets,
I stay so deeply underground that no one’s heard of me
I murder the competition just through my emergence
someone call a goddamn ambulance, cause this is an emergency
A regular night for you you’re piteous with girls cause you’re hideous, inert, and just an idiot with words. Like is the ‘Iliad’ an idiom, a pronoun or a verb? Just shut the fuck up, you’re making me seriously berserk.
I’m lyrically absurd, I’ve got a myriad of work, these redacted think I’m a bad ass, miscreant alert. I’ve got trillions of girls in their skimpy little skirts on my sofa at 4 in the morning watching Phineas and Ferb.
So I’m out at Starbucks, and I’m feeling like a mocha cap 
Now this blonde girl’s feeling me, so she approaches and 
I turned her down, cause I already had my quota met 
she turns around all bummed out and that’s when I notice that 
the girl is wearing yoga pants, like, damn, she’s wearing yoga pants, 
changed my mind, cause, yoga pants, I fucking love me yoga pants 
took her home and instantly she showed her breasts and moaned for sex 
so I turned her over and then fucked her on the sofa bed
Look, When I say I have a lot of sex, I, well- I’m lying 
Cause when I fuck while standing up, my legs get tired 
My ex doesn’t call back, she doesn’t text me either 
cause when she asked me about her cunt I told her her best friend’s was tighter
I’m notorious for inappropriately launching boners 
I dated this heartless chick, I’m glad I got to know her 
She took so much from me now that’s all I get off to 
so I invite corpses over so I can be their organ donors
I creep the corpses out of the morgue and free them 
I keep the corpus in a bucket. list, I’m morgan freeman 
I fuck the corpulent ones first, and more than frequent 
My corporal narcolepsy tends to leave my mornings freakish
I used to watch a lot of porn so I lack dopamine 
So sexually I’m darker than usual, like black ovaltine 
I’m the kind of guy you’d never quite catch smoking weed, 
but jacking off to horny horses fucking fatass roped up teens
And I’m not joking, please, my sexual potency 
is directly proportional to how gross my kind of porn can be 
Spent my childhood on redtube dot com and set a precedent 
I would only be turned on by hot moms, so call me oedipus
You say bitch and slut so much, you start every line with em’ 
Bitch, it’s not my fault that so many things tend to rhyme with em’
Critics say my lyrics are too sexually prompted, listen 
I talk about whatever, why the fuck do you have a problem with ‘em? 
I don’t give a shit whatever you’re fucking calling it 
‘it’s joke rap, nerdcore, hipster shit, it’s fucking all of it’ 
You’re false with it. you try to vaguely generalize but you’re totally fucking wrong with it.’
Your mistakes makes you seem like you’re nervous and tense 
I’m cleverly on a beat like I’m worth double the best 
Inhale deep, like the words of my breath 
I never sleep, cause slee-

lol my first rap ever, ignore this

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)

produced by @razor-boomarang
mixed by @TevinWmusic

rap like I'm on the dean's list honor roll,
when I spin schemes like a seamstress, on a roll,
seedless, on a roll, y'all plead fifths like you speechless,
my speech sick like I got a cold, double rainbow flow,
got a pot of gold, yo, I'm a level 99, y'all do not evolve,
pokemon flows, I done found em', I caught em' all,
y'all can't spit like your mouth's full of cotton balls
the rap game, you are not involved,
every sorta thing I'm good at is a problem you gotta solve,

enthusiasm you should curb it, talk less
I be breathing fire like a serpent, loch ness
evangelic like a church is, god bless
y'all ain't even gotta hear the sermon, just nod yes
or applaud, yes, jean-claude van damme
when I kick a verse up on soundcloud, bandcamp,
when I kick a verse like it's Tae Kwon Do with
the mic on low, you're a micron, I'm an icon 
whether iPod or a Nikon,
"oh my god, yo, there ain't nobody like Khan"
"that's all I hear when I'm outside"
when I kick it high gear with the sound bytes

Khan goin' mad like I'm King Lear
really though, goin' mad, I don't think clear,
nowadays, I spend all my time on the couch
watching old episodes of The View while I drink beer

I used to go to bars 
but I'd just make it weird
walk into the club with a cape and a fake beard
and maybe buy an appletini with the peach fizz
panic on the dance floor, stand there speechless

Peach Fizz

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

edit: thank you for all the support

prod. by @yungmai
mixed by @tevinwmusic

you are papyrus to a scribe,
your highness, I’d describe you
as the finest kind of wine that ages so well
it rewinds the time

you aren’t wine,
you are the fibers of the vine, divine, you are defined
in Webster’s as the climate of the Caribbean, 
me and you should burn together like we’re fire and kerosene,
you plundered through my chest and stole my heart, a pirate of the fairer being,
Midas sighed and let his sinuses unwind and golden ether culminated into you, 
the lioness to her pride, I heard you sculpted king poseidons diamond trident at his side,
the surest sign of suicide for me would be that you had died, 
the God of Death, Osiris, Isis and her ibis-headed mask
would guide you down a spiral staircase into Cyprus if you asked,
you are the ripest stalk of Cairo-grown papyrus to this scribe, 
I’ve got no stylus to describe you as the finest kind of wine
that ages so well it rewinds the time, no, you aren’t wine,
you are the Carolina pines, and I’m so sorry that you aren’t mine.

to the girl 3 seats over on the f train.

prod. by @yungameba
mixed by @tevinwmusic

I read about the ark, but wonder ‘bout where Noah kept the fish in

God must own a tempur-pedic, that’s why Christ has seldom risen

God was bored so Abraham beheld a vision he should kill his children then he almost killed him but then God was like I’m kidding

God sure asks a lot for someone who’s supreme and self-sufficient

I bet Christ’s apostles really were a group of twelve magicians

if God is good then why do kids have cancer cell division 
truthfully, I’m more pissed off about my plasma television
that I prayed for but I never got, 

if organized religion
really wants to solve conditions
they should stop peddling scripture, 
trade the bishops for physicians, melt the steeples into stethoscopes, swap sermons for some surgeons and instead should sell prescriptions

I wish Christ was still alive to turn my water into Zinfandel 

I’m confused why ISIS slaughters guiltless infidels

I wonder if when God is sent Fidel
he would toss him into hell or place the hard decisions 
in his closet on a shelf

the Fall of Adam sucks and all as God has taught us very well
if God’s almighty why could not he just have caught him as fell

If I could meet the Lord incarnate I’d award him with a ribbon
not as savior, but as heaven’s finest warden of a prison

If I were there when Gutenberg had beta-printed newly minted
bibles, I’d say wait a minute, you should shorten them a smidgen,
and for nonbelievers, make sure God’s coordinates were given

I wonder if you sin but pray it off, if all of it’s forgiven

I feel like God knew Eve would take it if he called the fruit forbidden
but just plays it off, like jesus, dude, admit it, you’re omniscient

If Allah were on twitter he would catch some major flack

I like to think if you retweeted, he would pat you on the back

I like to think he outlawed bacon due to saturated fat

I like to think he too’s confused about the SNAFU in Iraq,

I like to think that up in Eden there’s a patch of purple grass
where every innocent civilian gets a statue and a plaque 

 The Palestine-Israeli conflict’s like the longest game of tag,
and with the bombers, it’s the wrongest game of capturing the flag,

I wonder if the lord is cross that I do not believe in he
but more importantly, I wonder if the lord believes in me

twenty-two thoughts on god

edit: jesus thank you all for the support 

prod. by @yungameba
mixed by @tevinwmusic

I just got the iPhone 7
I put siri on disable
cause I’ve watched the movie “her”
and that shit scares me so I’m careful

me and her got chemistry right out the box
and I ain’t talking about the periodic table
her voice is like a chariot of angels
I fell in love so fast that maybe apple should consider pasting warning symbols clearly on the label
me and siri keep it modern
siri doesn’t cook or clean
instead she books all my appointments
and she looks through my routine

me and siri’ve got an intimate connection
that is, at least, when siri’s got an internet connection
my friends are all convinced it’s voice detection 
but I’m poised to mention, I see sentience and hints of recollection
and on top of that, my friends all give me shit but they don’t share the vision
all I gotta say’s “hey siri” and she’s always there to listen Hey
and she’s never mad that I’m neglecting, never has a headache,
and If somehow I want things different I can always change her settings

I really like her, I’m not sure if we’re official though
If she could be Terentia, I could venture to be Cicero
I sort of wish the sacred fruit were not an apple but a thistleful of mistletoe
it’s superficial but I wish that she was were made of flesh-and-bone
or partially of skin cells
I wouldn’t even care that she’s got artificial intel
if Siri had a body, we could FaceTime during sex
and then I bet it’d be way easier to ace the turing test
and if you can’t tell, 
I don’t want a handheld,
I just want my hand held, 
sometimes I venture out a wild guess
that if she can’t be human ever, 
I’ll invest in biotech 
and run myself on iOS

and then us two could be together
we could live as plural in the singularity,
I hope by then, my singlehood would be a thing of rarity, 
but if it’s just not written in the code for us to coexist,
then maybe I could cope by contemplating that you don’t exist,
that you consist not of two eyes, a nose but ones and 0’s and bits,
that I’m in love with cold machinery, a program on a disc
and even if you were incarnate, Siri, really I surmise
it’d be hard to date you cause you’ve been with millions of guys
and I’d just feel like I was inexperienced and Siri, yes,
I’ve considered that you’d win in games of trivia or chess
that we would play and that would just get real annoying in the end,
it’s not you, it’s me, I think that maybe we should just be friends
and maybe in a couple years me and you could try again

thank you to everyone for all the support, really

prod. @yungameba
mixed by @tevinwmusic

if somehow scientists proclaim they see the apocalypse approaching 
I would buy a box of tissues, Oculus and lots of lotion 
and just lock myself indoors, I’d build a bunker out of blankets,
a fallout shelter out of sofa cushions, cook a bunch of pancakes, 
while I thunk about my grandkids, I’d prolly have to forage lunch,
or have a bran of storage porridge and a can of orange chunks,
until I reached a shortage, then if I hungered for a banquet

I’d make cocktails, mostly molotov
and waltz on over to a wal-mart with my martyr-like martini bombs and wall it off
so I could have the whole place to myself,

 I’d stop and start to crop apart the shopping carts 
and fashion pitchforks from the bars until I felt a sense of self-defense, 
I’d meld a fence around the produce sector and I wouldn’t have to spend a cent, 
I’d set up tents in electronics and wouldn’t have to send the rent, 
Instead of panicking, I’d marshal mannequins, pretend they’re friends
and host a massive slumber party in the “home and bedding” end

cause all I need to be content, is room and board and solid food
if I end up the last on Earth, then I’d adore the solitude
and I don’t mean to sound too rude, I just don’t really find it strange
that I don’t care the way we go, whether it’s war or climate change
atomic bombs or comet craters, hordes of zombie space invaders,
angels singing psalms while Satan’s satyrs crack through the equator
either way we’re gone, and I don’t feel the need to lift the rug,
if I can spend my final moments happy, I don’t give a fuck

I’d do my best to reconstruct tho, if let’s say the apocalypse 
caused major drops in populace and hit New York’s metropolis, 
I’d obligate myself to help me congregate the boroughs, 
add some zeroes to the census bureau’s copy room materials,
I’d even copulate with girls to help repopulate the world
cause that would be my duty;

 maybe I’d do what Jehovah would
and go for broke and build an ark of fifty cubits gopherwood
but leave the termites out cause surely that would not go over good

If I knew the world was ending
I’d start texting all my exes
and fuck ourselves to death until Jesus resurrects us
and the trumpets say 
it’s judgement day…

cataclysm

thank you for ALL the support 
mixed by @tevinwmusic
prod by @yungameba

music video: http://bit.ly/2yaRgA1


I like to think I’m well-equipped as any other average guy 
but I just can’t discover love and I don’t even set my standards high
on top of that, I’m camera shy, maybe I should opt-out of the dating pool
and be an undercover tinder samurai

cause I would rather type online than whisper in a dingy bar
and swiping left and right could be my new bushido ninja star
and I’m well-versed in virtual lovemaking ninjutsu 
on every profile pic I post, I’m posing with my shitzu
or flexing with my shirt off cause I heard that gets you hits too

Especially OkCupid, I’m like Eros or the cherubs be,
I pierce hearts of women with my cursor and my arrow keys
and disregard my Roman roots and choose a font that’s serif-free,

trust me,

 I’m a tinder bio brainiac
the way I kindle fire with matches, I’m a pyromaniac
on christian mingle, I’m a casanova,
if ya’ll don’t think so, y’all can ask Jehovah
check your inbox, he might send an answer over

I wish I had the muscles of a granite sculpture
I would log on ashleymadison and bang adulterers
I’m so lonely, I’ve considered farmers-only
just for someone’s arms to hold me
also, I’m really big on agriculture

but if I had that body of a grecian god
I would trawl on pof.com and use it as a fishing rod
and hope I don’t get catfish,
the fact is if I did, I’d probably play along cause god knows I could use the practice,

and if I’m aching for my roots, I’d visit shaadi.com
message islamic wahhabi hijabi hotties “salaam”
and sunni, shia, those are both denominations I respect
cause I just care for our connection, 

I don’t care about the sects

sometimes I uninstall my apps in reckless insurrectious rage
and then regret it while I check the craiglist missed connections page
and then I think that I should get out more and disregard my mobile cell
and get to know the local teller at my barnes and noble well
and check out what she’s reading while she’s charging up my total sale
and ask her if she likes the novel,
and once she answers, ask her if wants to grab some coffee or some ice cream waffles,
and she’d probably say that’s awesome, 

 I’d ask her when she’s off of work,

 she might answer “midnight”

 I’d tell her that sounds awful, 

what a bummer, and from somewhere
I might muster up the nerve to get her number,

 and I would ask her what her digits are
and if I play it right then I can disregard my ninja stars, 
say sayonara to katanas and my other weapons too 
and try committing by committing online dating seppuku

tinder samurai (video in description)

don't worry, the next song is a rap
happy thanksgiving 
thanks for all the support seriously
repost retweet recycle

mixed by @ibr
produced by @mt-marcy
shout out OTJ


you sent me a text at 3:07 late last night
you barely knew him, 
you only blew him,
 you had  a few drinks

as if that could  make things right

and soon you asked  about our future  
 well, my darling, here’s my  answer


I hope you burn in a house fire
I hope you get stage IV cancer 

I’d be by your bedside waiting 
 till your sweet goodbye, my friend
I’d resuscitate you just
so I could watch you die again 

I fucking hate you 
I fucking hate you

and I know what you’ll do,

you’ll say you’re sorry
through your smile
and I’ll stay angry 
for a while
and you’ll come over
and we’ll be sober


until we’re not,
and we would make out on my sofa
I'd wake up one morning sunny

with your arms around my chest,

and it’d feel so good to be with somebody

I just might forget

how's it going

you'll say sorry through your smile

thanks for all the support lately :)
rapgenius (help fill this in): http://bit.ly/2gYB9dT

prod. @steeziakbeats
mixed by @ibr, hit him up for mixing
feat. @teeawgo

Raps got gori girls going golly gosh
Desi girls saying "va alishan kasi baat"
Chali-haat young bengali oligarch
Bollywood polyglot, khan kareena’s bodyguard

Sagging skin-- face look like salvador dali art
When I was six, mom used to shop at the dollar mart
Namak para, chicken tikka shan in the shopping cart

Then I moved to Main Street, 27 bussed it
Styrofoam biryani while I rode up to the masjid
Give me any font script, I bet I could bust it
Arabic to sanskrit, fajr to al-maghrib

Y’all can call me zina cause I’m nothing you should fuck with, baate with the aunties at the Pakistani functions
Chuckle with the uncles over khulfi and jelabi
Allah-bakshe if you play me, you might maybe catch these hands like henna mehndi
Call me akshay, hera pheri, can you blame me

But
I bleed brown
Y’all can never take that away no

Foreigners get the boot like brasilly presidenta
Further from the truth, making mentes in fazendas
Sempre alimenta, chicken nug, monica
Pops quit smoking now he puffing his harmonica

Never had a turma, ago was the only one
What the funk is starbucks, quero cafe da manha
Dalmata, seeing things b&w, musica
Be above, be a beetle, mama had a fusca

Incorrect grammar like mano who done shoot ya
Racionais wu tang 'spiracao, 2pac
If you step inside my casa, best to take ya shoes off
Don't wanna see nothing suja, it's true my

Parents learnt english speech watching the news
I had cookies, milk dipping, Tigo majin the buu
Rocking the bowlcut, dressing in overalls
Binging with bowls of cocoa puffs since i moved

But
I bleed south, yall could never take that away no

Post-election my white friends tell me to be brave
Dad says I should behave
Mom says get a clean shave

Hijabi aunties jilt mantillas like they in a heat wave
Cousin saying this shit’s like what jim crowe was to free slaves
Uncle disagree with that analogy that he gave
Says the fact that we don’t feel safe is proof that we just need faith

Cousin zoning out on youtube watching Louis C.K
Dad starts talking bout islamic faith and has a field day
Ammi change the subject by handing out chai and tea cakes
Saying “pi kay dhekley”, they answer “bilkull theek hai”

I’m there in the corner playing DK
Kong
Country
Collecting all the red balloons for funsies
Mom is making lassi, mango, asks me if I can go
Pray with all the family
While she counting out the tasbih
Fussy, I tell her not to rush me
Like mom, I’m on the mine cart level and I’m rusty
Trust me, mom pulls out the plug tho
I can’t really front tho, make my way downstairs and I read as’r with the uncles

Aunties asking me about my love life
Say they a know a girl in peshawar for me that looks like
A cross between aishwarya and like, the emma stone type
Saying I should wife her up on viber, maybe on skype
Lately I’ve searching for my dhulan with my phone swipes
Lately I’ve been thinking bout my own tribe, drone strikes

But
I bleed brown
Y’all can never take that away no

kulfi ft. THIAGO

prod @yungameba
mixed by @ibr
art by @ibr and me 
shouts to my crew @offthejump
thanks to @atlas for being a cool dude 
lyrics: http://genius.com/Samsa-feat-atlas-anthropocene-lyrics


I always knew that we’d be by each other’s side forever
now our time has come 
and I’d be satisfied if we died together
 
yeah, our climate’s fucked  
we might as well enjoy the weather
our time is up and I’d be satisfied 
if we died together

hit me up

anthropocene ft. atlas 🎉

mixed by @ibr 

chords: twitter.com/samsaraps/status/818863039768367104

we’ve been dating for a year and a half now
it’s time I spoke about the way that I feel
and yes, I think about the future we’ll have but
how can I be certain your love for me is real

girl, I’m ready to commit, to get closer
I’m dropping hints, I’ve got the question rehearsed
but there’s one little thing I’ve got to get over
there’s just one little favor you’ve got to do me first

And if you let me, baby,
you can start the countdown

All you’ve gotta do for me, my darling
is ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

it’s been weeks since when I first popped the question 
pulled the ring out and then spoke from the heart
you were sobbing and I don’t think that you heard me, 
don’t think that you realized my proposal had two parts

now we’re walking hand in hand to the altar
I’ve gotta tell you, you look perfect in that dress
and yes, I love you babe, in sickness and in health but
before I say “I do” to you, I’ve got one last request

n’ I’m so happy, babe,
to have you as my spouse now,

but first, before our vows you’ve gotta vow to me 
you’ll ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

so we did it, took the plunge into wedlock
you were waiting till’ the both of us got married
let’s get consummating, I could make your bed rock
but first, just pull your phone out, girl, before I pop your cherry

and if you let me baby, I could bring the house down
yes, I’ll take you to pound town    
but in the name of love, amor  
I’ve got a shameless plug before
I plug you
just ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

and don’t act like you’re blameless
like you’re beyond my reproach
how much fucking work does it take to make a single playlist
or throw me a repost

I still remember when I fell for you, your smile
resembled that of Aphrodite’s, I wished I could call you mine
forever, now we’re man and wife and we’ve made vows and walked the aisle 
I’d never thought that me and you would be here, soon to raise a child
together, I know this is special, we’ve put in nine months of time
and effort, so before your water breaks I’ve just got one last final question,
all I need’s your soundcloud information, you can type the letters,
babe, I know you’re close just hold your labor off till I press enter,

and you see that orange button?
there’s no need to be reluctant 
all you’ve gotta do is click the mouse down
it would mean so much to me, my baby
if you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

one little favor

prod @rainlord
mixed by @ibr

lyrics: http://pastebin.com/BktFpHc4

look, I won’t pretend I understand it babe, the afterlife and all
but as you died you promised me that you would try to write or call
and I’ve been waiting ever since, every sunday I hold seances with like-minded adults
and roll your corpse into the living room and try and find your pulse and then repine at the results, I’ve even got my windowsills lined up with ultraviolet bulbs, shrunken shrines of human skulls and other signs of the occult but now I’m at a fucking loss, cause honey, nothing seems to work…
 
like I’ve been astrally projecting my body beyond my dreams
through the fabric of space and time so you could me spot me at the seams
I ventured through the upside-down hoping you caught me in between
but maybe if you’ve got the tech, then you could haunt me on my screens
 
like you should infiltrate my news feed
I swear no one would notice
you could float beside some bogus buzzfeed quiz about the POTUS
be a pixelated phantom ghost
on clickbait propaganda posts
and dictate what you’re thinking through a catchy headline
like “one weird reason why it’s great to be ethereal”
or “twenty signs you’re dead now and your soul is immaterial”
 
or if it’s late at night then you could swoop in from the shadow realm
and talk to me through pop-up ads that show up over adult films
on anything you’re into, we could start with milf, or facial,
you could beam your interspatial spirit into interracial
if you’re feeling sorta formal, we could pizza date on Skype
and I could call the coroner over n’ we could share the corner slice and when it’s time to go to bed, then we could leave our cameras on
and if the netherworld has one-day shipping free on Amazon
 
then you could slumber as you ship yourself, I swear this shit delivers quick
or send me the address and I could meet you by the river styx
I’d twitter beef with Namtar by the Tigris and Euphrates
I could snap you while I’m snagging sacred threads of life from Hades
I would loot Duat and photocopy-pirate the papyus,
change the records and then have a Facebook flamewar with Osiris  
and either way, I can’t wait to talk or reunite,
I’ve been so lonely since you died, I’ve tried to walk towards the light
and if the Gods of Death oppose our harmless want to reconvene
then maybe we could sneak you by ‘em if you haunt me through a screen

the rest of the lyrics: pastebin.com/BktFpHc4

haunt me on twitter

haunt me

prod. @corybear
mixed by @ibr

shout out stream squad

I think in I’m in love
but I’ve been feeling otherwise
these flutters in my stomach aren’t butterflies but cutting knives 
and not the butter kind, and if you listen close when she begins to speak, you’ll hear a couple hundred sighs and the collective shut of eyes, letters linger on her lips like lullabies, I think I’ve  drowned a couple times inside her opal-colored eyes, she could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives, a perfect 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs, X catch her wearing loose pajamas on a sunday and she’d overshadow any supermodel on a runway, when she wakes up in the morning up she smells like vanilla essence and the bittersweet recollections of your adolescence, summer camp and piano lessons and presents you got on birthdays, orange creamsicles and double plays on first base, and walk past her in the halls and if your shoulders feel the slightest brush then you might melt to liquid gold, the lightest kind of midas touch, I’ve seen the way she drinks espresso during classes and reshapes a paper cu p into an emerald-covered chalice, sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances to me through her giorgio armani frames, she’s nearly perfect in 
almost 
every
way 









. 



.


.
but she’s got shit taste in movies, ask her for her favorite titles and she always likes to say she’s down to go see anything by shyamalan or michael bay, and also, she’s a psycho in the kitchen, 
it’s a travesty, what kind of fucking monster cooks their pasta in the microwave? 
and she does this thing where she corrects your grammar if it’s wrong and clicks her tongue and winks and shoots a playful finger gun as if she’s won some sorta contest, empress victor-of-a-conquest, mrs. armchair shrink, let me fix you with a comment, princess kick you when you’re down, worshipper to a godhead, it seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn’t chime in quick with unsolicited advice, an unapologetic tyrant of passive aggressive rivalry, ask her a question and catch and handful of sass and irony, and trust me, she is just the worst at board games, debates about the rules like legislators at a court case, tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel, once I even caught her cheating while she kept the score in scrabble, she’s a fucking wreck at checkers, plays monopoly sloppily, always bringing up disputes in games of trivial pursuit, sucks at battleship and risk, she fights better hand-to-hand, 
and don’t even get me started ‘bout how trash she is at candy land

but I’m no adonis either,
fashion sense abysmal, I’ve got two nirvana t-shirts 
that I wear to formal outings and I’ve never owned a cardigan,
catch me buyin’ cargo pants at target from the bargain bin
drink milk straight out the carton, use my hands to scoop out margarine
breakfast table etiquette makes up our morning arguments
and I’m not a glass half full kinda guy,
shipwrecked, flags half-mast hull kinda guy
I never was an optimist, not too good at compromise,
the problem is my ego’s far too fragile to apologize
but she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pegs too
it’s always nice to have somebody close who double-checks you
and honestly, we wouldn’t be ourselves if we were different 
yeah, she’s clumsy and I’m stupid, those are things that we can live with
being perfect’s unrealistic, either way I like our flaws
the way I crack my knuckles often, the obnoxious way she yawns
the way I stutter when I flirt cause I’m not very good with courtship
the way she’s gotta pee the first ten minutes of a road trip
how when she cuts her pancakes it’s in slices, not in squares
the way my daily coffee intake is a crisis, I'm aware
the way I talk in crowded theatre and the way she parks in parallel
the way she goes through pints of ben and jerrys salted caramel
the way...

slide in my DM's

butterflies

prod. @jhfly
art by rach, @passive155 on twitter

i miss the olden days
back when we would drive my civic off into the sunset, windshield glowing with a golden haze
i miss the simpler times
when you could pick me up at 4 am and hit the road and we would improvise 
with nothing in the GPS, back when we were free to roam
and brought a pillow with us so that anywhere could be our home
not the most romantic, but we planned out all our future dates
and snuck in every morning to cop breakfast at a super eight 
I’d waltz in past the front desk, then open the cafe door
you’d slink in and we’d have a banquet that we’d never pay for
two goody-two-shoes breaking all the rules, little rebels, we were perps
tryna hide our smirks while slipping fruity pebbles in your purse
and as we dipped out of the exit you would grin as if you’d robbed a bank
hop into our getaway and gun it on an empty tank
pull into an vacant station where our car’s the only one


there’s something meditative about the smell of fresh petroleum  



but things have changed since,

 cars are losing their appeal
it’s been decades since I’ve even gripped a steering wheel
elon built a hyperloop so no one drives drive a coupe no more,
people take their transit-pods through traffic on their private routes
china’s got a maglev train but I would never get aboard
in russia I heard they could program people so they teleport
point A to B, always know exactly where you’re headed for
remember when a road trip meant a sojourn, not a metaphor
remember rolling windows down with levers on the metal doors
and reaching back behind your seat to find that bag of kettle corn
one foot on the floorboard, then put on the gas
yearning for that rearview mirror, i’ve got one foot in the past

rearview

prod. @xmittens
mixed by @ibr

lyrics: https://genius.com/Samsa-technocrat-lyrics

technocrat

I lack the mental capacity to think up something unique and funny for my bio please think of something funny and pretend I wrote that here instead

big man samsa :D

peepie