The question you might want to ask, but that leftists unfailingly never ask, is: who is footing your bill?
Trust me, I’ve seen real poverty. The life conditions you constantly whine about are considered excessive luxury everywhere else on the planet.
no, effie green elementary school. the field trip to the farm was just a matter of bad planning, not oppression. i mean it’s not like there aren’t any cooler places to go in the area. we’ve got the planetarium and a few museums… but somehow these knuckleheads thought us kids would rather visit a farm.
there’s a good possibility i’d be denied entrance because of my felonies. my oppressors here in the states have extended my stigmatization across the entire globe. trust me, i’d like nothing more than getting off this continent, but the cocksuckers won’t let me leave, bruh.
making an album proper is a task requiring resources i don’t have… like equipment, a studio, and more musicians. these days i’m content with building huts and buying motorcycles with the profit.
you got only one guy writing the court procedures? that could become a hobbesian problem.
whenever there is a bill, there are workers, and only workers, footing it. what these folks need to do is stop paying for politicians to empower them and do it themselves. you know the whole ‘emancipation will be an act of the workers themselves’ stuff. nanny-leftism is a joke much like the right.
of course, because with the western industrial revolution came a much more efficient mobilization of workers who then produced a massive abundance of wealth and technology. what citizens of the third-world emulate about the west is not how this process is organized and governed (under capitalism), but rather its results. the fact that such results occurred under the mode of capitalism as opposed to a socialist system is a historical contingency, nothing more. this means; capitalism does not equal wealth > mobilized workers equals wealth > worker mobilization does not require capitalism (hence the contingency).
that’s just the myth perpetuated through ruling-class ideology.
Damn. You really had actual schooling.
I came pretty close to it, at least close enough to suspect what that would be like.
Check this out, n 1997 when I decided I was gonna learn notes and just went about figuring out the scales. I then smoked a joint and came up with this and then for some reason went back to just doing things instinctively.
I think this was in F something or something.
ahead went the apocalypse we be dropping this because it isn’t costing us were moppin up the floor with your chopped up hoppers popsicles
jobless hobos and slow going Provos all us up down like jojos no no never no sneeze snow peace bro even so lay low until I strike like gordon Gekko
dragonhead dragon heart bard of the old land close ya clams or be prose to my legacy I’m edgy like enemy I’m enemy with pedigree I’m selling these beats for free, cause hell its me, challenge me, battle me, try to rattle me and find out that my feet are settled, I was long embezzled thats how the world would have it, magic ass kick last trick and then the next phase blast it
once of my greatest regrets is never having learned how to read music. when i started playing i was surrounded by musicians who could read, but i had no trouble playing with them, so i never pushed myself to learn how to read. but here’s the thing; if i knew how to read, communication and song writing with them would have happened much more efficiently. and this explains why reading is useful. it’s not that one can’t be a musician unless they can read, but that if they can read, they develop much faster. knowing the language gives you an understanding of what is happening in advance so that you can compose in theory without having to play, first. so for instance if jason said ‘d major seventh for three measures and then into b minor’, i wouldn’t have to say ‘i don’t know what that means… play it first so i can hear it.’ but i didn’t know how to read, so we couldn’t skip that step.
imprint of my instincts on your chin its dimwit all round and ho chi ming city style bitter, chi Jing ping large hall glitter, no baby sitters no shady hits all ball park on mark cross target fresh moss market, hogs aardvarks tarpit - fuck it, wear the garments, lets do some damage in the gargoyles parlance, im in moods deep as the roots of Zeus, I leap with springs like Jeeps, meet brutes, jee-zeus gave me sea food and I fucking took it, now lookit, had to deal with that and find that things were crooked, beyond I ever even fathomed, playing gambits with everything that ever mattered, found out late, then I staggered but it turned to swagger, now I think Im better than I ever was and never to the letter I grew feathers, now I’m hovering silently in the bridal suite, finally Im me I was standing idly by in my dynasty, now I ride flashing Chinese fineries I’m a giant with a diary when it gets a little fiery the flames take hold of you admire me, dragon feet of soul, deep like smoulder in the coal, deep like the boulder rolls, steep like the creepy hole, evil to the feeble cause I’m whole, level with the righteous, fight with the mighty never cautious, like crashing Porsches fast forward, past dormant, mass forming I’m gas planet enormous, past normal, jazz never formal
never too late
it isn’t all that hard at all
these whinny twitches try to make t like its all sacred
is just some shit dotted down on paper
Fuck I anyway make music with the humans, the actuals, theres no correcting us, we’re the check on the fact check hex technicus, I got your back when you’re practicing, jazz machine, fashion me an engine, in the form of a melody and its raining Benjamins, we need to form a band cause its time for a brand new genesis this age is over homes, no more dreams of hope, this is real as it’ll ever feel
Corse I don’t need shit Im demon like deep shit it happened cause I dreamed it
This beat is insanely dope its crazy yo I’m so shady its all over for the cry babies
crow crow theres no taming me, you cant see, you cant hide, fancy me in the fanciest ride
that be a rolls in a shady shade of white
bright lights and cities all around me
astounding, this is me, evoking hissyfits in the enemy
im so terribly challenging to the powers that be
love showers on me cowards they flee, while the meteors rip through the sky in a shower for me
hail and hallowed be I
with maximum pie
pain and gallows bye bye
tell all the tales of how ya failed
be sure to keep us all entertained
johns and a hard won score and how they bailed
I flow like theres no tomorrow
bad to the bone to the marrow
back in the zone
Fixed Cross bring the peril
I don think you ever knew what hit ya
neither did I, let the shit trick ya
used to be about the pick and the shovel and the sickle
then it was about the bitches who jiggle
now its something else
I cant tell what
but I smell blood
got rubberbands holdin up my britches
don’t fuck with witches
which is
why i tell jokes and put they ass in stitches
got no riches, steel nerve like vainglorious
got no mic, but B.I.G like notorious
ride a particle collider like my name was dee snider
twisted sister on my bike cuz she know i’m easy rider
drink apple cider with cinnamon sticks in a mug
on the street at two a.m. hittin licks like a thug
lay a hardwood floor but first pull up the rug
producer at the sound board: ‘cut! how you gonna go from gangsta to construction worker like that, prom? what the fuck is that?’
emcee prom: ‘hey yo. don’t be axing why i mix my themes like i do, man. i ain’t no sell-out. i do this shit my way. now you wanna use me or what?’
[studio is now empty as emcee prom stands alone before the mic]
‘well fuck it rhymed diddint it?’
Construction worker MC
plus berserker with me
e equals no square
pull my nosehair
sat waiting up in Hoboken
waiting to cross
the big river
give it to her, big city
Thats how I did it
contemplation
face off a nation
how I rose to the occasion
aint no Asian
yet Im clever, and patient
watched the red blue lights
tracing circles in the night
picked a good fight
get to set the shit right
meant for the stars
when I set down my bars
mind got scars
like craters on Mars
I guess I better excel at the arts
of my choosing
that be music
who’s who now that you know me
homie
Here’s a terrifically sad beat which I can only relate to my having once
well, lost my religion.
vocaroo.com/i/s1Q1i2nl1HdH
Somehow my soul prevailed. Some fucking how.
Well it was a girl of Odin and then the forging of the great ring VO which were the how.
–
All this on account of finding an old hard drive.
Feeling down n sticky?
put this on 15 hz and square waveform
szynalski.com/tone-generator/
tell me it doesn’t feel great
Im hilariously powerful like king Darius
every minute is an hour full
trigger finger got that itchy Boyd Crowder pull
still Im Raylan Givens always giving rays to the rich in spirit cause they deserve it
got a herb, turn it in a sleeve and burn it
ear to the ground meet frogs like kermit
always lurking
turning tables as you’re burning stables
tossing Hegel in his furnace like he’s a bagel
with the aid of my circle of pagans
my henchmen, my Phil Leotardos and Tom Hagens
my Ronald Reagans
my dragons on the wall that come to life as soon as they’re painted
pained saints as of late armed them with rayguns
now lets see what they can make and break with their new found rage
anarchic like John Cage Im all sound, Balkanize your hallowed ground
mellow out now to the fifteen Herz square pulse my daredevils
turn up the level, blast it from yer chapel
hand it down to your capos like Soprano
Havana, east Atlanta, I don’t care
Che Guevara style bandana wave it in the air
Devils may dare to invade the daycare
break em like Floyd Mayweather some MMA blabbermouth fodder
pay, fuckers, game’s on, changed like Delta like Mekong
Like John duns scotus in a kango
drinkin orange flavored Snapple, not mango
But you go
on and on big talkin in your cipher like limbaugh
But you spittin at a nigga
who paid the piper like rimbaud
Tried to tell y’all
This shit ain’t no Uriah Heep, son
dirty deeds get done cheap and dirt cheap they get done
Yo. It takes more than a Darius to bury us
six maidens in a row who wanna marry us
Fuck a cab, golden chariots will carry us
And what you call a tragedy
I laugh and call hilarious
And that’s the scariest
Thing about Egyptian gods grown wise and much older
Throw they souls in the fire, if they fail I watch em smoulder
I got kek on my shoulder
Got a stare that’s much colder
Had a Jeep, but I rolled her
You expect me to say ‘bolder’
But I won’t
I’m outta here, gangsta, and when they ax you where I’ve been
Tell em I be in the east garden catchin zees with gu-shen…