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Limited edition of 69.
Super Ferro music grade tape (normal bias).
"Sky Blue" swirl cassettes.
Double-sided, 3 panel j-card.
Professionally manufactured in Canada.
Includes unlimited streaming of The Inimitable
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 5 days
edition of 69
2 remaining
$12USDor more
lyrics
Chorus
Cecil said rap, so .smallz. did just that
Verse
A bowl of tuffy rice, chopped meats and sauce
Early morning/late evening, hour-long walks
Shoe full of rocks, thoughts lost in time
Sporadically erratic, but I keep it all confined
What’s a lemon to a lime? Lime to a lemon?
I haven’t slept since Brooklyn, but I spent Seven in heaven
Denim is the only choice, when talkin’ ‘bout tuxedos
To rid yourself of hangover, just eat breakfast burritos
The realest of placebos, I’m a genuine tall-tale
To find a shirt that fits me, I’m still hunting that white whale
Full-scale invasion, unknown assailants
Toxic inhalants, with a side of some pain pills
Decided that some thrills, (are) just not worth pursuit
You can dominate the court, still ain’t shit if you can’t shoot
Drink my whiskey by the boot, Seven months since last sip
Might have tried air dusters once, yet I haven’t done ‘cid
Please forgive, when off the grid, the mind tends to wander
A bit like smoke and mirrors, with the spirits that I conjure
Cheat codes for Contra, don’t help in real life
Which one cuts deeper? Is it the pen or the knife?
These words that I write, do they ever ring true?
Do they cause more damage? Hollow points going through
Rendezvous, at the Brew, are now impromptu
No more Scenario, all plans been cancelled
The norm’s dismantled, and don’t believe that it’s returning
Even if it does, I’m sure we’ll see a different version
That’s for certain, draw the curtain, on the things we knew before
Gathered goods with stick and bindle, then just headed out the door
This another Forty Four, we ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Barack
This is more like “Pistol” Pete, shooting from that sweet spot
When I have a train of thought, always seem to lose the cargo
Searching for Pepper Potts, what I got, was a pothole
Nacho, I’m libre, get down ¿qué dices?
Record the whole track, then run it back on replay
Run and tell the DJ, that you’ve got the latest jam
It ain’t Smuckers, motherfucker, unapologetic rants
Know exactly who I am, every mistake and flaw
Same things that haunt my dreams, are the things that make me strong
Unflinching and raw, convincing? or nah
The higher that I climb, just further I have to fall
With music I stay involved, it’s never been complicated
Don’t create it for awards, trophies or nominations
So thank you for your patience, apologies for waiting
Might be the last words, but won’t be my final statement
