1. |
Adderall Adam
01:55
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Delivered in sinnerspeak through a grid of zipper teeth,
and loose lips—each fleein rat plugged a different leak.
First-class middle seat...the lows with the highs.
To be frank, beef’s only worth a Polish and fries.
Quasimodo a rhyme, my name chimes at a higher pitch.
Unseen, pricey gifts treated like a pint of piss,
in designer print the spitting image of pirate pimps,
The pyre lit--they just need to find a witch, or a scientist.
Livin at the bottom of a bottle when the lightning hit. De-
fiant as dying wishes, or infants smilin when diapers drip.
You’re welcome...Adderall Adam’s outta retirement
polishin a handful of jewelry they couldn’t mine or mint.
So it’s au revoir to the old guard. Claim they got a top spot
til they dragged from it like a towed car.
Wanna verse? ’ma need a Goyard--
I’m so broke, dog, the other day I tried to crack a postcard.
Music still skippin from Chicago to Rome, and
theirs barely survivin the trip from college to home.
I’m playin Contra with Hov and Galaga with Beyonce,
slappin white people who pronouncin it, “Solanjay.”
Why you tryna cop like the plug in your dusty town?
Know you got a job cleanin up, made your mother proud!
Front like you don’t mop in the scrubs whippin suds around,
until you got rocked in the club like a button-down.
Tryna pass off a counterfeit chin check.
Power switch flipped--bet. Counters hit, split flesh.
Out the lion’s den with every one of my limbs left.
Felt like I was talking to a wall until the bricks wept.
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2. |
Krakoa
02:36
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[Verse 1]
They make as much sense as streamin revenue,
Def the rogue mutant with the touch of death who left the school.
Bent the rules like these ghouls do election news
or progressive views--I’ll flick this pen and make metals fuse.
“Sorry, we expected Mr. Levin, who sent for you?”
Sandin these edges smooth as the centers of precious jewels,
It’s okay if none of my metrics move--I’ma carve a wave
in this blade’s shade until the stencils swell and swoon.
Auctioneering these works of art to the hard of hearing.
Head in the clouds, could make a couple of Hondas heelies.
Used to get twisted quick as parallel parking steering.
Droppin gems on em, and all they done is lost an earring.
Talkin bout some pockets, fam? You wouldn’t run the risk,
Walked the middle of Elm Street dreams, and seen the shutters flip.
They double-dippin in trouble until they bubbles slit,
Listenin as they umbrellas click, tryna duck the drip.
[Verse 2]
I was outside battling, while they rassled with agoraphobia
How they ask for the problem and struggle solvin the formula?
Bars hardbody—yours get autopsies and coroners,
mourners markin your corner, hangin poems, bottles, and portraits up.
Hit em with death stares, and they responded with rigor mortis.
Hate as common as a second mortgage in River Forest.
Call me ill-advised, took a million tries to heal the losses.
Only thing realer than pain is what the drillas drawin.
In- and outta-stock of bars they was finna bite,
until the disses started hittin like a hidden knife in a prison fight.
Strippin fright out my vision like demoted lieutenant stripes.
They game ain’t even ready for Fisher Prices and little Mikes
Water style extinguishin the candles on they cake,
When the facts is in they face, it’s rattlin they faith
like findin out that they favorite holiday characters was fake.
This a caliber of great not even calendars could date.
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3. |
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[Defcee]
Rewindin game tapes, tryin not to hate the player.
Rich in detail: sweaters dryin on radiators.
Broke in life: joy means more with less ends.
Envy is a liar, and resentment is its best friend.
False idols, they own persona the golden calf,
just a pokerface droppin off of a broken man.
River of folded hands, every smile he shows a sham
after a life of tryna prove that kindness is in low demand.
Rap retirement plan? Like I got a choice.
These rhymes would haunt me every day like my father’s voice.
Iris like a tree ring when I’ve wept psalms,
Everything welcome in my cypher except loss.
Anything that was handed to me had strings attached
by people who’d reduce me to dust with a finger snap.
Felt like nobody wanted to bring me back / stuck
too far under thin skin to clip the sting from that.
[Wally Wess]
[Wally Wess]
Rats
Maybe was the Cherry blossom scent
Very awesome sin
A vision
I would save for later
But
Never got to smell her
Just imagined like a failure
If you inhaled her say hell yeah
Music make worlds go round
You could be at my show
I’d never know
Yo Wess I love your music bro
Money make the world go round
I was a square
Since I failed to shape up
Got passed on let go
With every fleeting simple show of interest
Yeah I gas em
I gas her
Make her wanna give that ass up
High quotes from the pussy pastor
I be tryna save face
Wishing not to play the savior
Ay but here I am
Caped up Kupo
Gangster like Capone was
They say you can’t love the [redacted]
YOU can’t
Cause Ima stay and cater
On YouTube
Rewinding game tapes
Trying not to hate the players
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4. |
Eggshells
02:29
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He’s the runt of the litter the hunters should miss.
Stunning and sick, drunk from a sip, grungy and lit,
Magician with a jury of gods judging his tricks,
and a bucket of colorful raps he dumps til it drips.
Spendin two percent of his time funny and quick,
until the laughter dies as fast as his crumbling wit.
Mumbles in loops, touchy and pissed,
pretendin he isn’t really as fragile as a crumb in a fist.
Parents buttonin lips, hushed mum as a crypt,
He’s barely gotten enough upper body muscle to lift
the grub from his dish. Smiles, but in his stomach’s a kick,
that he’s a fingertip away from bein hungry and hit.
His writing hand grindin, and his hustle adrift.
Almost thrown offroad by the bumps in the bricks.
Crooked eyes buggin out, mouth mutters and spits,
knowin his heart’s healthiest when his blood isn’t thick.
HOOK (x2):
I know we need to talk about it,
but everytime I see you it’s too far to walk around it.
So I caved and wrote a song about it,
Feelin like I’m too weak to be strong about it.
Love’s thicker than blood. Ask if I miss em,
I grin at the memory of what ignorance was.
A missin puzzle piece ages eleven and up:
actual change isn’t just “different enough.”
...Fallen family tree stripped to the stump
I’m a chip from the trunk.
Self-portrait drawn with a stick in the mud.
Delicate bonds could get ripped with a tug--from kisses and hugs to winces and shrugs.
Nostalgia stings, but I blitzed it when buzzed,
and questioned every road to riches the Michelins touched.
Slipped in the cut. Stunk of luck, fillings and rust.
“I can’t stop loving you,” said the wheel to the rut.
Building boundaries--like a million a month.
Needed a minute to chill so I pivoted and dipped from the dust.
What I’m feeling is deeper than bitterness, but
it’s still inked in its stencil and licked with its brush.
HOOK (x2)
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5. |
Warp
01:28
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Stumbling after these passages I’ve unchained,
turnin over every stone like a drug raid.
Shame struck me sharper than some of my partners’ gun games
as I was savin places for my day ones, and none stayed.
Verses were tourniquets on atrophied muscle,
diggin my past outta capsule til I damaged the shovel.
Rap was a struggle, then I started puttin tracks in a duffle
like wifey walkin outta Sally with a bag full of bundles
Fastenin buckles on these time machine seats
when ninety-three weeks of my diet was deep sleep.
Our playground was Wicker, liquor tire-swing cheap,
chewin through a cypher let our dyin dreams eat.
Performin live from the back of the shelf
scratchin another L into that capital WELP
with twinnin detonator buttons strapped to my belt,
pregnant with litters of bullets I named after myself.
Jumpin through the projector before the movie starts,
soles of my boots splittin lenses into computer parts.
Used to fix my face into menace with moody art
til all of my blemishes melted into beauty marks.
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