1. |
1970 (holiday)
02:13
|
|||
transcript:
A: and now, ladies and gentlemen,
B: lil figurative.
C: how did you know?
you did, didn’t you.
D: yes, i knew.
i knew there’d be a fire.
and i knew it would happen this afternoon, at 2 o’ clock.
but what i didn’t know…
i didn’t know that i would cause it.
i shouldn’t have come here…
i know that now.
it won’t work.
i know that too.
it can’t work, because i know too many things.
i know…
i know about too many tomorrows.
C: tomorrows?
D: you’re history, abby.
you, and this town, and the people in it…
everything about it, you’re history.
and i can’t change you.
i can’t even touch you.
C: paul, why not?
D: because the past isn’t violent…
the past is sacred.
it belongs to those of you who live in it.
it’s not for interlopers.
for people who are just passing by, look in…
i wish they were a part of it.
C: where are you going?
D: i’m going back.
back to where i came from, back where i belong.
i’ve overstayed my welcome.
even so, i found more than i expected.
|
||||
2. |
1971 (chronic)
02:26
|
|||
lyrics:
impossible for ya boy to stay anonymous
i break laws, jaws, and false promises
i kill expectations and crooked congressmen
i like beats that’s lofi and slightly ominous,
y’all know what time it is, i’ve been duckin dirty politics
eversince i knew of their existence, i’ve just been dodging ‘em
these motherfuckers incompetent as a protestant
who couldn’t even tell you if god exists in full consciousness
make it to a spot where i can spread across continents
where i’m living off combinations of vowels and consonants
make it to spot that’s sim’lar to nastradamus’s
you can find me in that bitch polishing my accomplishments
they’ll find my notes app and treat it like dusty documents
they’ll find my test vinyls and treat them like sacred monuments
the arsonist who thinks they’re a psychologist is here
to tell us proceed with caution, the apocalypse is near, uh
under pressure with no plan and no breathing room
some people only admit defeat once they can see their tomb
it’s high stakes and low stocks, there won’t be a boom
wrote so many lyrics and i still can’t even read a room
these is trans raps
this is 7 seconds after you’ve spoken, i will know if what you sayin’ cap
get you and your mans capped, blam that
covering your body in saran wrap, understand that
you said you ain’t tryna keep the streets clean, but your man’s caped
you ain’t ready for the flood, pump the damn brakes
damn straight, a master in the art of crate digging
i’ll flip you and brick you like a 360 with the disk in
i’m a producer first, but these ain’t second-rate raps
i’ve been bottling my flavor up like lemonade caps
what’s a street-fight punch to an MMA slap?
if you want a revolution, keep your renegades strapped, uh
never fired a weapon, but i’m not weaponless
the tongue can split a sword in half with mere messages
clear the premises, wordsmith spits venomous
any steel you stepping with will rust and cause tetanus
blow, blow, blow! cause what’s a brain to a bullet
astrain of a virus once you cured it,
the cure once another strain has overtook it
a push and pull between the people and society
kush vs. pure cuisine
flippin samples since the day i turned thirteen
but that makes me a risk cause that’ll tank my earnings
even if i get big off my music, i’ll still be working,
cause how many hitmakers you seen with pockets hurting?
we don’t belong together, this ain’t no Jermaine Dupri
so we can go our seperate ways, it’s all the same to me
i leave any studio like hurricane debris
sticks and stones break bones, i am woodwork and masonry
|
||||
3. |
1972 (goddess)
01:54
|
|||
lyrics:
the devil wears prada, hitler wears hermes, capone wears cartier
vladimir wears versace, mussolini wears moncler
stalin wears supreme, reagan wears renato nucci
bloody mary wears burberry and genghis khan wears gucci
i’m wearing shit from old navy and Burlington
everybody saying lil fig? hmm, never heard of them
their blood runs cold like the beats that i murder in
rappers i was nurturing, they’re all getting served again
and i have nobody to serve twice
they want the chips stacked against me but can’t hurl dice
the oldheads prolly winced when they heard trans on the previous track
just cause they thought a word wasn’t nice
the world isn’t nice, yet i participate
try to tackle the top, i’m impossible to intimidate
big body benz mentality, your mind middle weight
i’ll total that toyota, lemme let the sample illustrate
i feel like the microphone magneto
turn studios to bistros, i’m back in peepholes,
all these fakes convinced they real, that’s the rap placebo
slice your face and leave scars, Al Pacino (obviously)
the world is mine, thanks Nas
the pearly doors are very large
please pause the applause, whip turbocharged
balls to the wallpaper, i aint your everyday ballplayer
i’m the goddess, grip the biscuit and spill all ya gravy
lawd save thee, jagged-toothed mouth full of rabies,
i’m sick, couple weeks till i shake hands with hades
surprised that ain’t nobody been concerned for your safety
lil fig beats is like crack in the eighties
maybe, y’all should quit mimicking crybabies
and step to the plate, start swinging like ruth, baby
coulda got some features, but i truthfully don’t need the help
dreaming of ibiza wealth, history repeats itself
|
||||
4. |
1973 (glasses)
01:24
|
|||
lyrics:
all i added to the sample was a kick and some processing
made the bassline sound thick, bring the snare out
the compression workin magic
guitar line slick, ayo i think we got a classic
that keyboard or whatever it is, it sounds amazin
lookin like therapists on vacation, no patience
i shine like the sun, y’all drying out like raisins
y’all basic, archaic, faithful to staying craven
not Nicholas, imma flip a sample so ridiculous
then i’ll react like a convict and start killing shit
mind activated with stimulus, feelin limitless
i’m a prodigy causing havoc, becoming infamous
stack it, they thought i could never spit it so rapid
was in a box, but i followed lines to get out my bracket
they say my talent is impossible, fuckin magic
i’m 15, i made it from the basement to the attic
y’all cant touch me, all the sample records dusty
got em crying like the background on Rusty
trust me, y’all don’t want beef with fig
that’s like wrecking your bike before you start your pizza gig
the teeth sink in, k-9 unit
it's a matter of time before i’m mainline, stupid
my playwriting too lit for snakebite wounds to caress me
look at me with the same eyes as Kubrick
adress me as such too
man, fuck you
circle tight-knit, but you tryna bring a plus two
bust through limits like an unmixed beat
even if this basically a loop, it’s still on repeat
keep a piece of paper folded up inside my left pocket
so any thought that’s poppin in my head, i can jot it
it’s just me double-knotting what i’ve already acknowledged
it’s nothing but a me thing, this the new chronic
|
||||
5. |
1974 (gallery)
02:00
|
|||
lyrics:
effortless, man, how you trek so treacherous
through trials and tribulations, you never lose tenderness
it’s simple, tragedies and triumphs take togetherness
dramatic equals? untrue, to stay generous
to let my losses lose to the wins, i had to trash a few
i trick the trepidation, you can’t have it trapping you
tips and tricks and tools of the trade stay valuable
i found my way to cope, i don’t give a fuck if it’s laughable
it was tangible, so i continued on that tangent
i test out new methods, even if they turn up transient
and eventually command it, no longer observing battles
ain’t with the grazin anymore, this is herding the cattle
trauma runs deep and spreads, can’t further the fractal
hit the light in the center, can’t get burned by the candle
i rationalized it, don’t allow yourself to feel beneath it
if you do not know history, you are doomed to repeat it
and you know what, feel free to call me a mashup guy
i love making those but they’re only one thing i mastermind
if i stuck to that, i’d practically be alkaline
and i’m tryna make it to hydrogen from the actinide
i love the craft but honestly, i’m never satisfied
so i was destined to branch out to feel gratified
this might be too weird for some folks to be into it
so i appreciate you if you listen as i carve this path of mine
i had to shovel coal into the train of thought
all this love would break a hateful heart that the pain has wrought
this ain’t just a game, it’s art, this a Salvador
my aggressive lyrics merely give them what they’re asking for
i close a door just to bash another door
if someone says that cash is nothing, then they prolly wasn’t poor
don’t get me wrong, i’d love to never have to buy shit
but that’s not where the world is at right now, i won’t deny it
i hope one day there’s no more gangsta rap
cause the conditions that birth it will be a faded past
and that’s basic facts, plus we’ll still have the classics
as historical monuments from the victims of classists
just wait for capitalism to eat itself alive
and then we’ll have to course correct, cause then it’s do or die
that’s just what i tell myself so i can tolerate my life
keep my loved ones on my left, keep my music on the right, peace
|
||||
6. |
1975 (arctic)
02:16
|
|||
lyrics:
short summers and long winters, they keepin guns
hot but no mistaking these cold killers, my wallet hollow
i gotta keep raking in more scrilla, the new joint by
lil fig and the dior singers, producer or con-
-sumer determined by your definition of FL, the
ice don’t melt, this ain’t Ugly God or Denzel,
last time i repped the south, it didn’t end wizzell
if i ever have to dead you, just know that i meant well, shit
i’ve never spit at a venue, but if i had though?
they would call it a drag show, meanwhile the facts show i
bring more people together than county-wide lassos while
still keeping it gritty as crack smoke, i’m back with a
death wish, the most potential, nobody contests it, my
mic’s a weapon, imma smack the hard headed, i’m act-
-ing all reckless, i’m back, with more leverage, i crack
a cold beverage, sit back, and cause hemorrhages, it’s
effortless, whips, whips, whips, whips, whips, like west-
-side gunn in the kitchen, you try to run your lips, but no, im-
-ma shut up your bitching, i flick my wrist with ho-
-mocidal intentions, the clicks ain’t from glicks, it’s
cameras and lights, but honestly, to me, that shit is
cancer and strife, they make it hard as possible to find the
answers to life, they cloud the shit with banter and
fights over pedantic and trite shit, this really some
hype shit, looking outside and the grass covered in
white shit, the cruel winter has arrived, i pray i sur-
-vive it, i’m reshaping myself just to adapt to this new
climate, in real life, i’m quiet, but that’s not what you’d
tell from my iris, curtains drawn over the windows, you
tryna phone a friend, pay a pal, you stuck with Venmo
you can’t just be audible now, you gotta be heard, these
fine lines are the most liable to be blurred, peace
Vince Staples: brit pop in the 1980s.
X: who?
Vince Staples: brit pop in the 1980s.
Boy George, Yaz, Talking Heads, Duran Duran, all these motherfuckers we’re making the same song for 10 years straight,
that’s where we at now.
why? because motherfuckers wanted money.
why? because Michael Jackson made pop music.
so what happened with that is,
if you look at (stammers) The Clash, The Clash was a rock group who started making brit pop
because they wanted to make a lil bit of money
because what they was doin wasn’t poppin.
so you got that, you got post-Nirvana, punk music,
which is really grunge music
which is really Seattle music based on jazz
because Quincy Jones and Ray Charles used to play up there
and they had all them kids tryna learn about instrumentation and slow thing their music down.
you’ve got these types of eras that have happened in every single genre of music.
|
||||
7. |
1976 (blight)
01:50
|
|||
lyrics:
Ayo
B quiet for a second, the CD keep skipping,
with E’s, dripping in clean linen, that’s three million
F em all, they ain’t really G’s, they really children,
i H you chickens, I’m more of a J with wings dipped in gold
like the handle of the K you see me gripping
yo, please, listen, hold this L for me
i keep tripping over Ms i leave em on the floor
my N’s have means that rot my soul
O-nly shopping over at the flea market though
push transient dishes, like P king duck
you in too deep in terms of blades, you caught a knee-length cut
i ac-Q’s you of fucking up that green benz truck
cause R you aware you S-entially signed the keys in its trunk?
but yo, don’t blame me for bad rappers i inadvertently T-ch
but i’ll still bump your shit if it U say it was influenced by me
only time i fuck with 12 is when it’s next to a V
the only time i’m top 10 is when i’m in the top 3
and i’m not 3, nor 2, nor honorable mention
of the best artists to more-than-W in terms of steppin
get X’d out, but you just buried, you ain’t treasure
Y i got kings di-Z’s? cause i work best under the pressure
some wanna know why rappers fallin off now? just ask the best
it’s cause they know how to flex but can’t actually cash no checks
they turn to any way to sell out, long as it’s racks to get
but i don’t give a fuck bout the letters on which an alpha bet
|
||||
8. |
1977 (yellow)
02:31
|
|||
lyrics:
X: now, we come to the payoff: rappin techniques.
everyday bitches lose dough that are ripe to fall into their hands
because they shy away from beats by timbaland.
a good rapper reaps the benefit of everything which has gone before him:
the advertising, the customer’s natural desire, even his dick game.
you want to become a star, and you will become one.
ahead of you right now are motherfuckers
but first, some common sense about rappin to offset a certain amount of nonsense and fear on the subject.
we desert eagles of the same feather
the suede leather, my rage is rarer, my reign of terror is upon us
new Giannis, i do not play for pleasure, my station
tuned into a newer era, mixed with the same as ever
the fire you spit was no match for my liquid sword
your corpse a pittance to the lord, i should’ve given more
such are the lips of war, they speak in riddles, missile coordin-
-ates, and pidgins warping words to hit with every listener’s core
pistols pesent, code-named little weapons
rips through tendons with little effort within a second
several bits of severed tissue sit within the grisly wreckage
i think you get the message, back to my lil simple method
i ain’t cena john doe who could wrestle with me,
state what shoes you seek to fill, or else you isn’t steppin with me
i mess with you a bit, it hurt me when i read you dissed me
but i know you just salty and twisted, you a pretzel to me
tssss haha!
man, i started off the verse so well…
shit
aight, back to it
my laptop and my phone like Watson and Holmes
you copying clones, robbing eachother’s flows, a
hierarchy of lows, fire-hall with no hose, fi-
-rewalls with no code, i might just stall in this hoe, like…
(pause) aight, that’s enough
nowhere near as bad as us, you blasphemous, y’all rappin sucks!
someone in my camp tried to have me dead in casket
so i deaded him, hands tied to his severance package
we all got shit to unpack, i just got leather baggage
conway said everybody is food, ya head is cabbage
i punch your pumpkin and see if there’s any bread to salvage
bury you with nothing but your clothing and your demo package
in a stretch limo, passing out my next single
a QR code tatted on my neck tissue
you might not grapple with this yet, but this the next jujitsu
so put your badge upon my desk or hit X to continue
|
||||
9. |
1978 (jaguar)
01:43
|
|||
let he who is without guns fire the first shots
ricochet off of the metal, he fell into the dirt and rocks
i flirt with glocks in my lyrics but i can’t hurl a box of matches at a burning block
there’s plenty down to murder opps and skrrrt on cops
all these rappers make me feel nothing
they could put out fifty projects, they’re still bluffing
i can’t eat if you can’t cook, you tryna peel a muffin
so i won’t come at you with steel, i’m bout to kill by punching
lotta egos thick as Pringle chips
i got enough rage to blow a door off of its hinges with a single kick
old-heads complaining about this shit, you get your wrinkles split
album artist but my singles hit harder than missiles, kid
you think you cold? i’d throw you in thirty feet of frozen water
and i would still be icier if i was trapped in a boiler
i’d make a better album than you with a broke recorder
if the only budget i could gather was a stolen quarter
move along, everyone, remain as you were
the game’s boutta spill it’s own brains on the curb
wrist flying, yeah, the presi lookin like wings on the bird that i’m giving you
it’s strains of the herb in your living room
i planted em before you was raided, that’s just the system, dude
my beats got a wide variety like thanksgiving food
the whip is big and blue, fit a kissing booth inside
cause there’s a market for licking boots i might as well provide
copped a million dollar crib full of ice, that’s the igloo
i had to put an end to to a few million dollar issues
can’t wash the money, that’ll be a million dollar misuse
so i’m wiping off the blood with a few million dollar tissues
sneak dissers see an exclamation mark above my head
let the beef sizzle, check the expiration, augh! it’s dead
three figures but you know one day i’m turning it to ten
elite speaker, ask for free features? you get left on read
move along, everyone, remain as you were
the game’s boutta spill it’s own brains on the curb
wrist flying, yeah, the presi lookin like wings on the bird that i’m giving you
it’s strains of the herb in your living room
i planted em before you was raided, that’s just the system, dude
my beats got a wide variety like thanksgiving food
the whip is big and blue, fit a kissing booth inside
cause there’s a market for licking boots i might as well provide
|
||||
10. |
1979 (brandy)
01:41
|
|||
lyrics:
ayo, i keep as many guns on me as Batman does
but i keep as many lyrics as a rap fan does
if you plan on goin ghost, imma Pac-Man sumn
pop a power pellet, plus i got crackhead lungs
another day, another dumbass who didn't get the memo
lookin like a minivan, actin like a limo
i'll leave your tires flat like how your punchlines fall
it's some rappers out here that's tryin to one-up Pridefall
fuck it, no homo, but i think about my boyfriend every night
you think you on some conscious shit? i'll show you erudite
pulled up to the stu to make some beats, i wasn't there to write
looks like you had different plans, i guess i'll raise the fahrenheit
your stories ain't verified, you need to cite your sources
640 horses in these 911 Porsches
you freezing up like rigor mortis
even if you got to goat status, don't act like you'd be passin any torches
you'd hoard shit, you punchin in nothin, you barely slap box
i'm mighty and massive, these motherfuckers is matchbox
my sampling is like finding abandoned buildings
breaking the padlock, and turnin it to a trap spot
i ain't white washin nothing, this ain't no Colgate
looking like you used to wear the hats that read "obey"
cause some road rage in a bronco like... well, y'know
same drums as Mighty Healthy, i'm the new Ghostface
i might just catch the blast from a hype verse
the pressure keep building on you till your windpipe burst
every list of names you make, you better put mine first
the name of the game is lightworks
but yo, i break laws, jaws, false promises, and limits
and stay on cloud 9 like final fantasy 7
add em up, i still ain't even hit my sweet 16
but i spit 2 that were so ill, i had to take sick leave
(Freddie Gibbs) can't go outside, i might catch corona or a hollow tip
(Danny Brown) my [REDACTED] made a wrong turn, got flipped in the zone
(Jay-Z) spill 3 quarts of my blood into the street, let alone the heat
(Logic) the bomb atomically, the lyrical anomaly
(Action Bronson) M5 soundin like a symphony
(MF DOOM) must be too strong for tuggin spirits
(Earl Sweatshirt) i do less when i stretch fore i hit the bar
(Ghostface Killah) catch me in the corner not speakin
(Yasiin Bey) my ink so hot, it burn through the journal
|
||||
11. |
1980 (bliss)
03:20
|
|||
lyrics:
vilified and ostracized on every media forum
that only mentions our labels when it’s convenient for em
they say police are looking for us, and when we say please inform us
they don’t tell us shit, cause they can flush us out like fleas and hornets
some say “just don’t make it your whole personality”
even though some bad faith actors will do exactly that
and some will point to the rates of self-inflincted fatalities
but fail to realize they’re the reason all of us feel so attacked
and the blatant projection from all the other side
it feels like the pedo accusations are what you’re tryna hide
one day they make it so our existence is undermined
then act like we’re these villains, they tryna make all the mothers cry
they’d rather act like we’re a threat to everyone
than actually learn about our feelings and where they’re stemming from
they can’t take time out of their day to educate themselves
because that threatens the system that they’ve been benefiting from
when one of us steps out of line, they’ll mention our name
but when one of us is a victim, they won’t say what’s to blame
they create a stigma
then when the repercussions hit they say it’s an enigma
they disregard all of the resources at their disposal ready to inform
cause acting like we’re evil is clearly easier for em
i wish the ones in power cared about the people they ruled over
more than staying in their office and keeping their seat warm
they keep the masses scared, then proclaim themselves the savior
they rule people through fear by proclaiming us a danger
they keep the masses uninformed to make themselves seem witty
they accuse the other side of that which they are guilty
Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Propaganda Minister
tell me what they’re doing right now doesn’t sound similar
misinformation, false panic, it fits aptly
plus a transphobe directly cited Mein Kampf at a rally
they talked about 'the big lie'
it’s essentially the concept of a lie so insane, told so intensely
that everyone believes it, because there’s never been a bigger lie
they said that trans people use that strategy to get by
the nazis claimed this big lie was used by Jewish people
they used that as justification to subdue those people
the Nazis used the big lie they accused them of
perfectly paralleled by the ones that are accusing us
to any trans person listening
you already knew everything i mentioned word for word, shit
all the conditioning these motherfuckers force out of hate, fear, ignorance
you’ve already heard it
and it’s not just those who plot, some of that is people
who think they’re on the right side, controlled by those who know they’re not
but once the world realizes that they’re only built on hatred
they’ll have nothing to stand on, their thoughts left naked
i know they won’t win, cause even if they did, love
they’d move on to the next group to effectively get rid of
it goes trans, gay, nonwhite, women
i’m not saying they’ll kill ‘em all, they’ll just legally end them
they take away our rights and voices and move on, next in line
they’re just onto us because they think we’re small time
if they were gone tomorrow, the world would be more at peace
if we were gone tomorrow, do you really think they’d cease?
it’s only getting colder outside
|
||||
12. |
1981 (shawl)
01:57
|
|||
lyrics:
where are you going today?
Dallas, Texas.
oh, we’re headed out to Washington State, uh…
we are going to Taipei.
we’re going through southwest England, mostly.
well, I’m headed to uh… Okinawa.
we’re going home, through Los Angeles.
I’m going home, India!
every type of person going every place in the world…
all attempting to get there the fastest way…
and the safest way.
that’s what aviation is.
the people of moderate circumstances can travel today
all over the world, I think it’s terrific!
I don’t think I’ll ever understand what makes an airplane stay up in the air, but, heh-heh!
well, the great trouble is that we get so used to these things,
we don’t think of it as a miracle anymore.
but of course, it is!
you look at the designs of the planes, and it all looks so ridiculous, but…
there you are, you get on the plane, and you’re terribly annoyed if the plane is as much five minutes late!
not so long ago, there was no such thing as a jet-liner.
but now, flying at 600 miles an hour seems hardly more remarkable than riding a bus.
although our Pratt & Whitney people make the engines for most of the world’s jet-liners
we’re not showing you this to sell you jet engines.
we’re showing you Dulles.
because technology is our business.
and this technology has brought our world closer together.
the space is shrinking, there’s no question about it, as technology…
progresses down the road, and of course we haven’t seen anything yet, compared to what…
our children and grandchildren will eventually see.
i’m convinced of that.
so are we.
because we believe that technology is a continuing response to the needs of life.
|
||||
13. |
1982 (purge)
02:13
|
|||
lyrics:
drum work, running till my lungs hurt
best believe i’m aiming for the moon, make the sun burst
punching in while punchin motherfuckers into thumb dirt
i just want the cash to come fast and to come first
i spent a buck on a bottle and lost the lotto
so imma crack it over a skull and leave it a fossil
slide like legato, fly like a swallow
murder music, all the bullets sound staccato
heat of the moment, speakers choking, my speaker broken
mentally reloading, my pencil seeking an evil poem
i speak an omen, releasing demons, i feel em slowly
peeking through the window, my microphone is an evil totem
i spit so much a fraction of it is perceived an ocean
i’ve learned that freedom deceives you, it only leaves you lonesome
you was never told that growing up, you couldn’t really hold the weight
so as your mind matured, your body turning weak and frozen
the revelation came too late for you to grapple with it
you’d already dug yourself so deep when the ladder hit ya
you built upon a foundation, you never saw it crackin
till it crumbled like a human when hit with an automatic
i’m tryna make out the static, out the white noise
with that comes the pressure of am i making the right choice?
information highway, reactionary traffic jam
make the music my way, then transfer to a Dapper Dan
i can’t take a risk cause what if stable life is wasted?
i can’t stick to safety cause i know nothing is sacred
i can’t take it serious cause people live off dumb luck
so i’ll just make my braggadocious shit and shut the fuck up
i was never interested in putting on the fraud’s crown
that’s why never in my life will i appeal to pop sounds
i just got stuck in a place where money trees were chopped down
so every song from me is equivalent to a glock round
one hand grips the mic, the other grips my phone
adjust the frequency so that the snare could split a brittle bone
i spit a flow that rips a hole through any myth you’ve told
everyone who tried to doubt my talent was dismissing gold
my worst raps were better than your best styles
my first raps will be better than your next styles
swervin on the road to the top, this just the next mile
we simply cut and woven from two different textiles
you want the throne but you ain’t ready for the tribulations
every picture i paint is sick, my songs are illustrations
figurative is an icon, end quote
i’m like mach-hommy mixed with flygod, i been dope
this gon be the joint that all the fans wished was 5 minutes
sorry but that ain’t how i like to have my style presented
i hit you with idea after idea
plus i say exactly what you’re thinking like a mind reader
(chopped Kendrick outro unable to be transcribed)
|
||||
14. |
1983 (slump)
01:10
|
|||
lyrics:
the Nashvillian, destined to stash millions in brash delirium
cash flooded with bacterium from
getting passed between them and the label they’re a slave to
bloody money is concealed behind many a snake tooth
the perpetrators have no reason to be spiteful
put people through hell, double down on the downward spiral
unless you can command an army, you’re stuck in the cycle
and even still the vultures convince themselves to be prideful
good kid, badlands, burnt down grasslands
how can someone come from nothing and become a Batman?
sane sword slain by a gun-weilding madman
in the building with a pistol pointed at a gas can
life has no inherent dramatic tension
a stray bullet shatters your skull and any suspension
premature ascension, even if you paid full attention
anything in the world could end your session
question, why you worried bout what others think
when anyone could be wiped off of the earth in a blink?
end up as collateral, poison in the drink
of everyone at the table, all dropping in sync
but maybe that’s the point, life is fragile
and every day feels like struggling to win a battle
so while we’re here, we might as well kick it
cause ain’t no point in playing the game if you can’t win it
let’s get it, yo
why’s this shit barely a minute long, the fuck?
ahem, anyway, this-
|
||||
15. |
1984 (chess)
02:43
|
|||
lyrics:
-next song is a wonderful song that i…
i heard while growing up
beautiful, romantic song
i heard that life is pain and death is the painkiller
i heard karma’s a bitch till you sing in the rain with her
i heard that life is hell until you rake in scrilla, make a million
money is the world’s babysitter, that creates killers
nothing gets a break except your back and your car
pray that it ain’t either of ‘em, pray you never make that call
cause your life’s in someone else’s hands, will they catch your fall?
or will they let you drop into the ever-present maw
of the city streets, as portrayed by vivid rhymes and gritty beats
the only food for thought you’ll get from there, cause the civilians eat
a diet of carcinogens and pass it off as sickly sweet
and fast food chemicals that might as well be mystery meat
no soul food in a city with no soul
extract youthful ambition just to throw it to the hole
turn it into a ravine you can’t vault over with a pole
to further the divide between those in and under control
life is a dice roll, you have to play the hand you’re given
and the house always wins, so unless you have plans to rig it
get back on the assembly line, or else we’ll can your living
man, this can’t be existence, i’m abandoning ship and disconnecting from this shit
i won’t submit to any of it!
but what’s the alternative? cause listen, i don’t love it
but the ones in charge of this situation are benefitted by it
or people who just the take chance to be those people’s pilot
so unless we’re set to crash, we won’t have to course correct
which arguably just happened, and everyone just rolled with it
2020 shook the world, we still feel the repercussions
but quality of life? it feels like that shit changed nothing
caps flying and landing inside the circle of 5ths
they letting choppas sing, ear-splitting harmony
bodies piled up like autumn leaves, no halloween
on top of that, bodily autonomy no longer free
honestly, that make me wanna be the one to slaughter these
monopolies disguised as politicians with policies
that only benefit the economy if it’s awfully convenient
with ambitions that just border on democracy
but is it hypocrisy to yearn for something that doesn’t even exist?
if it’s this easily ruined than something must be amiss
there are cracks in these walls but no one’s getting them fixed
who’s society is this?
who’s erasing my brothers, sisters, people just living calmly?
and people who just wanna feel right with their own body?
who’s bashing the symptoms of the disease that they embody?
a part of me wants to be the Blaskowitz to these nazis
i’m sorry if this isn’t subtle enough
but when the ones that are in control throw you under the bus
i’d rather tell it to you straight than dress it up nice and neat
cause this ain’t a movie scene, this is real, now cut the beat
|
||||
16. |
1985 (onyx)
01:50
|
|||
lyrics:
can i talk my shit again?!
even when i’m beaten down, i run circles round these mothafuckas
guess being a broken record can have it’s ups, suckas!
oh you up now, what’s up, sucka? bloodsucker
on the mic, gunrunner with the samples
only bringing heat tonight, frontrunner wearing sandals
sell wax to a candle, bareback through the bramble
coming out without a scratch, how’s that for an example?
i made a whole fuckin mixtape and like 20 mashup albums
with nothing but a macbook, tell me how those facts look
and it’s only on BandCamp and YouTube
you only give me money if you choose to
i did it for the art, for the love, for me, for y’all, for us
for queer folk, for people just like me, and thus
i produced every beat, wrote every word, broke every expectation
16 stones killed every bird, reset this shit
i know none of my fans expected this
not even Fluffy who i leaked this to in February
not even T, we made mashups that is legendary
got so many names, man, i need a fuckin secretary
not even Spectre who found me in the first place,
not even my boyfriend, who got me through my worst days
not even the regular viewers, you know you are
the ones who’ll be at every premiere once i’m a movie star
nobody! for a while, not even me
i remember sending beat packs to smaller rappers for free
back when my beats was trash, and they ain’t even hit me back
and now after this, everyone will want me for a track
went from nobody to somebody to somebody else
with nobody’s help, i cant wait till history repeats itself
man, i made my own history, y’all just saw it reveal itself
|
Streaming and Download help
If you like Lil Figurative, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp