1. |
Something Else
01:57
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In the need to escape, He escaped
Shut the door and got to work like it couldn’t wait
Inside, writing is his only happy place
And he plans to stay there until the world evaporates
Everything outside went to shit, so he just dipped
Tryna get back and replenish what was stripped
The longer that he stays away, the less he seem to miss
He ain’t showing up, so take his name off your list
He don’t need shit, just a beat and some free time
Salt of the earth pillar writing bittersweet rhymes
Got em all eating out his hand
The way it’s going now is all according the plan
The script that he’s sticking to is the one he flipped
And the way he doesn’t need anybody got em pissed
Somewhere in the wind like particles of mist
Eating off his lines like he taught himself to fish
No idea what this is if it isn’t bliss
When he writes it’s like he’s got the planet clenched within his fist
It is what it is, and this is something else
Besides getting drunk and writing, really nothing helps
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2. |
Prometheus' Liver
01:54
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Without a moment’s hesitation
He grabbed the microphone and felt the force of levitation
In any situation, he can make the best of it
Play a beat, and he’ll be sure that it’ll be the death of it
He woke up one day and had a life left to live
Now he’s traveling the world and hasn’t even left the crib
Look at what he did, not bad for a shadow
If he’s out in public, you can catch em with his hat low
Nowhere that he can’t go, nothing that he can’t do
His legacy’s about to be the thousand beats he ran through
Feeling like he’s barely got his feet wet
All he wants is checks and some goddamn respect
He just sees some words and he rhymes em out of reflex
Doing what he loves, so he’s not about to leave yet
It’s pretty safe to say he’s here stay
As long he don’t drown in like a billion drinks a day
Bound to this rock, knowing that he’s gotta live with this
Giving y’all the fire with a liver like Prometheus
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3. |
Magic
02:01
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Somehow, this became important
Carrying the fire and he kept the flame scorching
Nothing else matters but the patterns in the rhyme schemes
He like, “very far away from y’all is where to find me”
He keeps his doors locked, rocks to the sure shot
Got his own place, what the fuck he want with your spot?
He carved himself a comfy little corner
Stack of notes full of rhymes like some sorta hoarder
Life spans longer and attention spans shorter
People getting colder and the world’s getting warmer
Keeps his cool with some whiskey poured over some rocks
If you’re wondering how much he drinks, it’s honestly a lot
But every song he writes is a certified bop
So, if you see him out in public, give the man his props
Let him smell some flowers fore his carcass gets devoured
For writing shit that makes the populace feel empowered
Within the biggest moments, you won’t ever see him cower
God himself told him that he couldn’t be prouder
Turn it up louder if you ain’t really hear it
Let the lyrics get themselves entangled in your spirit
Nothing like a nice fresh dip into a youth fountain
Only took about ten thousand years, but who’s counting?
That’s a long time to give someone a craft to perfect
So the fact he’s still going strong, ya have to respect
Y’all came and went, he just stayed
And put a little magic into everything he made
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4. |
Baggage
02:01
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Too far gone to ever come back
Got a lot of baggage from a past life to unpack
More substance than your whole catalogue in one track
Quick suggestion, quit doing all that shit you suck at
Take it how he gives it, y’all dreaming, he just lives it
Y’all mad cause deep down you know you never did shit
Sipping on some liquid, a pool full of poison
It makes him get forgetful of the body he’s destroying
Besides writing raps, there ain’t shit that he’s enjoying
Save all that advice, that’s the shit that he’s avoiding
How you gonna tell em what to do when you don’t have half a clue?
His response is to walk away and laugh at you too
Carry on carrying the cross
Accruing this perspective, he ain’t scared of what he lost
Everything to gain, brain plagued with disdain
At the fork in the road, he just made his own lane
Ignoring everybody while laughing at the lames
Do it for survival, he ain’t rapping for the fame
But he’s writing so much that he’s gotten great
So he doesn’t have to beg y’all to purchase what he makes
Listen to him and spit, no doubt that it’s the shit
All he’s gotta do is just put it out and dip
He’ll return only if he feels like it
Always even keel, he don’t really get excited
Mainly cause anything left to see, he saw
Read the rhymes he wrote tho, not a single flaw
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5. |
Cold Toe
02:43
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He became his own hero
A bottomless abyss, at least as far drinking beers go
Years past fast and the days go slow
There’s gonna be some days sun rays don’t show
Learning how to shine in the darkest of times
Even though you can’t see him, he ain’t really hard to find
Prone to isolation, the type that likes to stay in
That’s just how he is, it’s the way the world has made him
Couldn’t just go on and keep pretending
That everything is fine, when in fact, it’s probly ending
A fighter of the of the good fight when it’s worth defending
Can’t buy back the borrowed time that you’re renting
He ain’t attending, don’t invite him to your show
Unless it’s with the molotov to light it up and throw
Anywhere at all is where he doesn’t like to go
No one really knows him, but he’s really nice to know
Writing notes that the whole world should quote
He found out the hard way that life is but a joke
One day you’re rich, and the next day you’re broke
Pickling his innards with the whiskey from his throat
It sounds sad, but it isn’t all bad
Himself is all he’s ever felt he’s ever had
Holding on to any type of substance he can grab
Something that’s forever, not just any latest fad
He’ll fly the white flag when his cold toe is tagged
Still find a way to brag when his body’s in a bag
He’ll fly the white flag when his cold toe is tagged and his body’s in a bag
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6. |
Wake the Dead
02:09
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With the chance of a snowball in Hell
He decided that the story that he’d tell was gonna sell
He fell in love with the fact that all he ever needed
Was to write the greatest rhymes for the world to wanna read it
He practices in secret like some sorta covert operation
Looking out his window like he’s got a lot to take in
Never got complacent, even when no one was listening
Now they all can’t help but look to what is glistening
Gleaming like a goddamn galaxy
Giving off enough light to teach the world how to see
While the blind led the blind, he was watching
Saw where they was walking, so he reassessed his options
He decided what they was doing, he would do the opposite
Now look at what he’s made, and try to say it’s not the shit
You’d be lying to yourself, don’t do it
Just enjoy the music, and accept the fact you’re useless
Homie, if the shoes fit, put em on, but if not, keep em off
Hard to not tell that the rhymes you got are weak and soft
Obviously ain’t built up the calluses
How you gonna withstand the world’s many challenges?
With Armageddon brewing, he just built himself a bunker
And he’ll stay there until the last people kill each other
When that happens, he’ll just climb out and shake his head
Spit a couple rhymes and all the sudden wake the dead
Starved himself, now he’s making sure he’s staying fed
Got comfortable making camp on a breaking ledge
As close to the edge as he can get
Without going over, that’s the secret to the trick
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7. |
Privacy
01:47
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He writes just to keep himself going
Keeps his confidence tucked beneath the self loathing
He always had a hunch tho that this would be his legacy
So if you don’t see him for a while, just go let him be
Sometimes you gotta disappear
And go somewhere where no one can interfere
Ain’t nothing personal, he just needs his privacy
“Not a soul for a thousand miles is the life for me.”
That’s what he would say if you could get an interview
All the answers that you need is in his songs to listen to
All you really gotta do is pay attention
He left so his absence could really make ya miss em
He realized there’s no way escaping his condition
Stood still to stand face to face with his afflictions
Now he’s so calm that you can’t even shake him
He’s learned to make the best out of any situation
Odds are, he’s sitting in his living room, creating
Or he’s practicing a little at home sedation
It’s amazing that he made it, even though he’s always wasted
He just held onto it tightly cause they’re always tryna take it
Find what you love and let it kill you
If you just believe in what you’re doing, then they will too
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8. |
||||
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He writes like there might not be a next time
Ran out of bourbon, so he poured himself some red wine
One bottle later, almost wrote a whole album
Looking for the answers, might’ve fucked around and found some
Passed out, woke up feeling kinda foggy
Still groggy, gotta go and get nutrition for the body
Walked to the bar for a bloody
The bartender knows him, even calls the dude buddy
Sits quietly and doesn’t talk to nobody
No paparazzi, and for that, he’s so lucky
An underground celebrity, but no one knows exactly what he looks like
And that right there’s the reason why he’s got a good life
It’s all about the work, he don’t care about the image
The job isn’t finished, cause the rhyme schemes are endless
Tremendous how his penmanship is pensive
Money’s cool and all but that is not the incentive
He was sent to make sentences rhyme exquisitely
And flip the chair of every throne to force the kings to bend the knee
It’s just a matter of time before he catches on
He don’t even need to a hook to write himself a catchy song
Every line sticking to the rib
His favorite kinda party is just sitting in the crib
We all gotta die, but did you really live?
He ain’t buying what they’re selling, so you’re getting what he gives
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9. |
A Million Miles Away
03:33
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He never felt better in his life
When he walked away and decided what to write
Away from all the darkness, right into the light
Shining too bright to be ever out of sight
It’s never too late to become who you are
So damn driven, he don’t even need a car
A million miles away, you can see it from afar
If anybody needs him, he’s probly at the bar
A voice calling out in the wilderness
So he followed it, and stayed there, and he’s still in it
No satisfaction before, now he’s filled with it
If you ever go to a show, no filming it
Just enjoy this shit, it’s quite the experience
Never going anywhere, the life of a lyricist
Here to stand the test of time, just like the pyramids
This year is my year, regardless of what year it is
It was fear that was holding him back
So he let fate take place and wrote a million raps
As fate would have it, that was not enough
So he wrote a million more, and that was just the cusp
Barely getting started, that’s how he feels after every song
Been ignored forever, but he’s still going strong
Away from anybody else is right where he belongs
Pops in, rocks the mic, into the night he’s gone
Might stick around to sign some t shirts
Leaving pieces of himself behind fore he leaves earth
I read that shit you wrote, my dude, it needs work
Meanwhile, he’s writing rhymes that require research
Got his books on the table, got his life in the pages
Everything he writes down is ageless
It’s like he’s summoning the ancients, the spirits of the sages
He walked away, and suddenly it made sense
A sickness stirring in the stomach
Doing all he can to deter it, or just numb it
Had to run to it, he couldn’t run from it
Writing until his dingy living room is sunlit
Dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight
Sometimes the day is too bright
Sleepwalking in a circle on a spiral descending
This shit has gotta change tonight
He made himself at home
The only thing he ever needed was a microphone
He likes to be alone, not because he hates people
He’d just rather write a classic, and create like eight sequels
Plus there’s not much he can’t see from his peephole
If you’re in the trenches firing, you should keep low
Came from the mud so he stayed in the mud
Stopped using ink to stain the pages with blood
Got a deep thirst that world can’t quench
Do the math, it adds up to nothing makes sense
Convinced that this is all it is
So do it all quick before god calls it quits
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10. |
Someplace Hidden
03:43
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Content with his own companionship
Had a job to do, so he couldn’t just abandon it
The process, he learned to be a fan of it
So when the sun does shine, he’ll just stand in it
For a minute, then it’s back to the shadows
Dwelling in the dark, not because he’s sad tho
If he’s at a rap show, rocks his hat mad low
If he’s not rapping at the show, he probly can’t go
Even if he’s supposed to go, he might miss it
Somewhere in the wind like a tornado, twisted
Turned off his phone, he don’t have an assistant
Super human how he could just vanish in an instant
Find him on a stool in a pool of regrets
Tryna keep his cool like a fool in the flesh
Knowing damn well that this world is a mess
And it won’t be too long til there ain’t nothing left
Dueling with the stress of just being alive
And witnessing more than one should see with their eyes
From fires being fed as seas seamlessly rise
He still shoots the gift without receiving a prize
The real gift to get is in the work in itself
So hold your soul like you know it isn’t worth it to sell
The real gift to get is in the work in itself
So hold your soul, cause you know that it’s worth it
The dauntlessness comes from being desperate
Once he wedged his way in, he couldn’t find the exit
So he took a ride on this wonderful head trip
Until the unexpected was all he expected
This life might kill you if you let it
He almost let death befriend em when he met it
Instead he wised up and abandoned where he left it
And now he’s making sure the two of them remain separate
So for now it’s just him and the past that surrounds
Getting so lost in the raps that he found
His body might go into the trash or ground
But the songs will live on way past what is now
That’s what’s keeping him alive
Someplace hidden, where he naturally can thrive
Away from all the looks and the all seeing eyes
Escaping into books and a glass full of rye
What a place…
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Malachi. Whitman hell, Michigan
The longer that he stays away, the less he seems to miss.
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