1. |
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2. |
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[call] Well who's that writin'? [response] John the Revelator[4]
Who's that writin'? John the Revelator
Who's that writin'? John the Revelator
A book of the seven seals[5]
[call] Tell me what's John writin'? [response] Ask the Revelator
What's John writin'? Ask the Revelator
What's John writin'? Ask the Revelator
A book of the seven seals}
Well who art worthy, thousands cried holy[6]
Bound for some, Son of our God[7]
Daughter of Zion, Judah the Lion[8]
He redeemeth, and bought us with his blood[9]
[Repeat verses 1 & 2]
John the Revelator, great advocator[10]
Get's 'em on the battle of Zion
Lord, tellin' the story, risin' in glory
Cried, "Lord, don't you love some I"
[Repeat verses 1 & 2]
Well Moses to Moses, watchin' the flock[11]
Saw the bush where they had to stop[12]
God told Moses, "Pull off your shoes"[13]
Out of the flock, well you I choose[14]
[Repeat verses 1 & 2]
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3. |
[BONUS TRACK] Juul
05:10
|
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Oh, I thought that was a Juul.
I thought that was a Juul. That harmonica.
I thought you were hitting a Juul. A Juul!
A gem?
No, no no. Like the
Vape pen.
It's a- it's a vape pen.
It's big with your age group.
The drummer Jimmy just uh
Pulled out a harmonica.
Just so you guys know.
Looked like a Juul.
Looked just like a Juul.
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4. |
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I don’t wanna live no more. Death knocking
out when I’m knocking on their front door with such
force that I split it, cold cock to the top of their
grim visage. Ticking off the minutes until they replenish.
I re-use my lines cause I got nothin to write.
Not like you heard em when I dropped em the first time, absolute
dud, dull thud, like 1961 Goldsboro. I’m
the B-52 breaking up, Jericho trumpets humming
something like stolen billy woods lines and EMS screeching, and
Curtis Mayfield south side shit, the eschaton preaching, preface with
slur I ain’t comfortable slanging less it’s analysis, and
words mispronunciated for the sake of a gag or a quip.
Shit. Not content simply to contend with the world.
I’ma get in it, or get it in me, unfurl all of my
guts and stamp em down into a gopher hole, frantic. Do it
slow, this ain’t a rap, it’s a suicide, tantric.
Run up in the club and do my money dance
just because.
Then run up out that bitch cause I ain’t got no cash.
Fuck twenty dollar martini bars,
cept the ones that pour outta my dome, they under-
valued tho, nuff for like a couple shots at Smart Bar for
all I sold, and that’s the way I like it baby. This ain’t a
rap, it’s an acoustic sigil trap for all my crazy.
CDR skip the genesis of my grammar, each
phoneme hit like it was emitted by tack & hammer through the
hands of Yeshua, playin Judas just for the glamor. “Who you
talking to?” This glassy doppelgänger, who never answer.
Why the fuck he never answer?
Wonder why the fuck he never answer?
CDR skip the genesis of my grammar, most
phoneme repeat with glee only madness manufacture.
Why
would some
echo
out race?
Statement so vague, as
once,
one time,
I was
amazed.
I was amazed.
||: Once,
one time,
I was
amazed.
I was amazed.
Why
would some
echo
out race?
Statement so vague, as :|| 2x
once,
one time,
I was
amazed.
I was amazed.
|
MxR-ace/EtthnoS Chicago, Illinois
MxR-ace/EtthnoS. Pronounced "Mixed Race Ethnostate". Pronounced "mɪkst reɪs ˌɛθnəˈsteɪt".
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