Signed and hand-numbered (Out of 100). Comes in a fabulous sleeve with all the vital information on it (everyone needs to know about copyrights) with additional artwork on the disc itself.
Includes unlimited streaming of Mata Hari
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 5 days
edition of 100
Purchasable with gift card
$5USDor more
about
After reviewing everything I wrote for this album I realized I didn't have a generic talkshit rap boast song. So I wrote one and it is this song.
lyrics
Hit the ground running my mouth hard as I ever did
Crowd of naysayers outside, I never let em in
'Cause I never been better than I am living it now,
Sever the leather off of your bones if you're bringing me down
The reckoning is hectic when you're sticking out your neck
Then I heard the records beckon, I reckon I'm fucking wreckin' it
You don't gotta love it, but you better respect it,
I'm the shit, y'all, you buried and septic
They try to tell me I'm soft, just 'cus I'm slept on,
but fuck it, I kept on truckin' and stepped on
These plastic rappers who been covering canned rap
I'm fresh to death, a cadaver in saran wrap
Even if I'm rockin' a capella to hand claps
Legends line up just to give your man daps
and if y'all thought Chess wouldn't smack a rapper down
then take a seat up at the front, everybody gather round
Look mom, rap music! Wow, what a disaster
I'll body the track and I'm smashing these other rappers
I'm thinking bigger than massive, the plan has been mastered
Fuck some shallow bars, I'm going hard in the plaster
And if y'all still in Paris, y'all best be embarrassed
I'm leaving handprints like drunk step-parents
I can rush the whole game like Sarah Kerrigan's harem
I can arrogantly tear 'em every time I'm spittin' sarin
My brainstorms rip the stem from your cerebellum
I got all kinds of verses, I just never care to sell 'em
It's compensation, but it ain't about the money, kid
And even if it were I wouldn't share like Sonny did
It's domination, the way that I've been running it
Nobody ever even wanna think about that other shit
That's why dollar for dollar, and pound for pound
Everybody wanna show up when Chess is in town
Not the best, but the best dressed rockin'
Stocked with a microphone and a fresh-pressed oxford
Apparently I'm a parody, or maybe a paradox
Cold-cock the box office wearing pair of Dockers
Clock you like a boxer and knock you out'cha socks
Chop the block off, rottweiler in a China shop
Docked till y'all wanna stop jockin' dishonesty
I be coppin' and hoppin' up on the opposite commodity
Come on, y'all - somebody stop me
Put some hair on your chest, pot of black coffee
Half of y'all wanna rock with me, half are cross shoppin' me
Possibly trying to find an MC as hot as me
But nah, B, not easily, and not if he's not me
Please buy all all my records, and buy a lot of copies
Give 'em to your homies, have 'em pass 'em around
I said one more time, everybody gather 'round
