1. |
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I wake up nothing but a pile of bones
Jigsaw puzzle spine, ribs like a xylophone
Skeletal scaffolding otherworldly and grey
Skinless finger spiders reacquaint ma skull with ma brain
I stretch ma ribs to cracking point to put my lungs in their cage
Ligaments creep and slowly cover ma frame
Along limbs, weeds grow and spread to function as veins
A ragged breath rasps and sets ma heart pumping again
Eyeballs hop intae sockets where they fuse with ma optic nerves
Sheet lightning strikes on grey matter as ma thoughts disperse
Skin over jawbone, stubble on face
Mouth open wide, I reattach ma tongue in its place
One by one I push teeth intae gums
Nails intae fingers as air bleeds into lungs
After retrieving ma organs from Canopic Jars, I regrow ma scars
All the while my head aches like a broken heart
Sorry if I'm being kind of oblique
But there’s a crack in ma skull that leaks punch lines in ma sleep
They trickle down ma face, drip, collect in a pool
And a form black shellac disc peppered with grooves
In the morning, the record player sucks it greedily in
Arm puts needle tae skin, inject, the machinery sings
It starts to sink in as the scenery swims
And if you’re all sitting comfortably then we can begin
This is a daily reconstruction
I put the pieces back together but don’t read the instructions
And sometimes there’s parts left over when I’m done
I put them in a box and try not to think of them much
I let ma brain breathe and people said embrace the darkness
But it eats away at me and sometimes I try ae starve it
Truth is, the windows to ma soul are black out blinds
I have no problem letting darkness in but seldom let it back outside
Brain cells full of demons in a flesh and bone prison
Driving this meat puppet while the verse is ghost written
I step outside to news headlines, faux wisdom
And a road sign spray-painted with the words ‘don’t listen’
So abstract
A street sweeper cleans up the mess left by George Street wankers in their glad rags
I’m allergic to sleazy suits worse than pollen
Feeling sullen as a moth flies out o’ ma dusty wallet
Is there a boarded-up council building on South Bridge? Yes there is
It was called the Advice Shop I guess they’ve none left to give
Chambers Street: the National Museum and people goin’ ‘ae court
The press are there when there’s something juicy tae report
Jesus folks out with leaflets to make the Devil go away
While a homeless lady drinking vodka the same her own way
Jakies on quarter mile up from Jawbone Walk
Next to Sainsburys and a boutique coffee shop
On Middle Meadow Walk I see Big Issue John
Can I interest you in a Big Isssuue? I keep ma headphones on
And don’t reply, thinking I’ll buy wan next time he spies me
As I walk past the bankers in the Meadows doing Tai-chi
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2. |
All These People Are Me
04:10
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The calm where the eye of the storm is
Morphed into an alarm at five in the morning
Became a pressurised canister of rage
And leaked into lab rat, rabid in a cage
That’s the bell for last orders people drink up
A broken puppet collapsed with his strings cut
Feeling like a treasonous plot on Guy Fawkes Night
Melting down an iron lung into a hot knife
I was born to make threadbare soul music
And I formed from fresh air and cold fusion
With ma elbows on the table at meal time
I’m a fictional character in real life
Catching reflections in a shard of broken glass
She caught ma breath and stole ma heart I hope it lasts
I’ve been the question that you shouldn’t have asked
And a dead leg with one foot in the past
I’m a jaggy nettle in the docken leaves
Split personalities, half of which won’t even talk to me
Mad delusions of grandeur floating in ma heid
Like crossword puzzle answers that nob’dy can complete
Once I was a kiss amid a hail of rubber bullets
Now I’m trouble brewing and I’m about tae do sumthin stupit
Making me a long weekend in the cells wi no charge
Or a moss-covered stone in the bone yard
I’ve been the common sense that seems like it’s lunacy
A hauf brick flying through that window of opportunity
The hammer to break glass in case of emergency
Something beautiful created in the face of adversity
I like counting things in fives ‘cause I’ve got OCD
Shimmy Shimmy Ya, I like it raw peace to ODB
I’m an excuse for one more medicinal drink
And the answer to all yir problems written in invisible ink
I could dance wi the devil then help an old dear in the street
Censor this ‘bleep’ to express ma freedom of speech
About the evils of speed, while shovin’ gear up ma beak
Then give up rapping on beats just when I’m nearing ma peak
Daydream on ma feet so I never dream when I sleep
I’ll turn the other cheek – only tae go in wi the heid
Lay out a whole deck of Tarot cards like can read ‘em and weep
‘Cause every day of the week, all these people are me
I’ve been the drink, I’ve been the chaser
I’ve been the ink, I’ve been the paper
I’ve been a clown, I’ve been a geek
I’ve been down and out on easy street
All these people are me
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3. |
Mr Margins
04:13
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I was born a twin. Separated at birth
Cause that little girl wasn't ready for this earth
So the first person I knew left when I drew my first breath
And came back a year later as ma sister, Mum said
Once the carousel's revolving no stopping or disembarking
I spent a lifetime with the mysteries of Mr Margins
Left home for it, decades on a pilgrimage
A ghost author, writing essays in the wilderness
I don't converse with the Holy Ghost often, only in times of blind panic
Where ma atheism is left behind stranded
What else?
I hope you're all comfy
People are so hungry I wonder what that says about ma country
And where I come fae - food banks, Banker's Crash
Trying to be a good man is a thankless task
Good people carry the weight of the world until their ankles snap
Financial cats futures are guaranteed like a Banker’s Draft
I was born clumsy, a crumpler
I take words and rearrange them when I find them jumbled up
Grew up on the outskirts of nowhere - just beyond it
Nothing existed in the void until I drew it if I'm honest
A hyperactive kid, restless and unsettled
Mouth tasting of metal, building walls out of lego
Ma father was a rebel, so I became an echo
He told me ‘you’ve got to cut the strings on own yir arms to meet Gepeto’
When I get agitated, words are ma Ritalin
If life’s a jotter then I’m living in the margins that I scribble in
But sometimes when you’re on the outside looking in
You get a better view of how the world spins
Dystopia, it’s a word that's overused
But that doesn’t mean its meaning doesn’t hold the truth
The loneliest muse I’ve been beholden to you since the fallopian tubes
My colloquial roots challenge colonial views reported as news
Celebrity sweat patches interrupt me while I'm trying to think
I close ma eyes, cover ma ears and dial Dial-a-Drink
Spying search engines try and tell me not to think this
I spent ma evenings trading riddles with the sphinxes
And ma days languishing and listless
That's just how it is when language is yir mistress
I've got no problem with authority
I represent outsiders and we're holding a majority
Man, fuck yir in-crowds, little cliques and cosy ups
Your numbered days get shorter, the longer you’re ignoring us
I channel hate, love, fear, hope and lust into broken words
That fill, spill and overflow from lips like blood from open cuts
Mr Margins, life on the periphery
Blend into a crowd, step on stage and then pontificate
I was born where every Venn Diagram intersected
And spent a lifetime on edge and on the edges
Mind the gap when alighting from this place…
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4. |
Shutter Island Pt. 1 & 2
04:36
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I’m Asleep Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
A bulb glows at its brightest just before it blows
I click my heels together and pray this time I’m going home
Had to grow up fast from the basinet where I laid ma head
In amongst wet paper friends and the waking the dead
A marionette with displaced Tourette’s
Grabs my arm with fleshless hands and whispers in ma ear ‘straight to bed’
She’s the combination of Frankenstein's 2nd and 3rd attempts
Stitched breasts topped with 2 halves of 2 different severed heads
Fused together and sewn on the wrong way
Staring empty eye sockets sunk into a swan song face
Of long gone days disappeared like innocents in a dawn raid
I stumble backwards mumbling ‘I must be on ma way’
(Outside) The backyard’s full of skeletons and reptilians
Mingling as they pick over the bones of dead affiliates
Wriggling things writhe on the deck in their millions
And a faded placard reads ‘Welcome to Oblivion’
Cloaked all in black, crows watch and laugh
As ghosts of the past raise a glass to toast rotten rats
Zombie housing scheme villains wearing downtrodden masks
Watch undead dog fights and blow wads of cash
A decomposed marching band smoke hope sodden fags
Faces like slashes in leather groan, sob and sag
A witch doctor wiped the postcode off the map
So if you cross over this road then there’s no crossing back
I’m Asleep Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
I’m the twelfth monkey that jumped over the cuckoo’s nest
And I kissed McMurphy’s surgical scars and bruised head
Rain drips through ground-level seals and splashes
On subterraneous corridors that conceal the passing
Of dull-eyed, trudging orderlies,
Enthusiastic amateur chemists with swirling toxicology
Prison camp-Tannoys broadcast screeches of laughter
Manic hilarity rebounds off tiles and plaster
The truth is I never think of escape or try to run away
‘Cause it’s much the same when I wake up in the other place
Where combustion engines slug trail along approved pathways
With tin can prisoners, solitary confined and sad faced
Metallic insects exhale poisonous smoke clouds
In eternal gridlock since the traffic lights broke down
Floating heads lie to the population of identical nations
And bomb each other in the name of civilisation
And displaced peoples who feared for their family’s safety
Have their clothes and living taken and are incarcerated
There is no sense of belonging. We all take our belongings
Lock them in a box and go shopping
The planet is mined, razed and burned ‘til it glows red
Dissent is said to be standing in the way of progress
Anything less than selfishness and greed is seen as weak
And I can’t fucking tell if I’m asleep dreaming or dreaming I’m asleep
I’m Awake
Dreaming I’m Asleep
Dreaming I’m Asleep
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5. |
The Ill Somniloquist
03:55
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Trample your obligatory soul sample
Dismantle your whole rabble, decipher the code scrambled
Pick that scab until I unravel your bone marrow
Shots across the bow just providing me with more ammo
RE up Player 1, extended play
Rappers' opinions of their place on the leader board are more to their mental age
Aw mate. I'm a lawless reprobate.
I'm always getting hate. And it caused incessant rage
(Sit Down) Soul torturous, practical philosophist
Stone torturer, bleeding tears from a monument
The neck twisting traumatist, head sick and flauntin’ it
Honourless thieves counterfeit ma style and launder it
Sorry do you prefer yir rap topic-less and homogenous?
Fuck off man. Art is meant to be provocative
Put a sock in it. Monotonous raucousness.
Y’all can just paint the town while I tend to be the talk of it
Dead of the night, feeding ma baby, scribbling rhymes, pen in ma hand
A little uptight, unsettling faces - bitumen mind, tenets of man
Shocking spits. Clocking it. Despising the hypothesis
In the playpark with yir tricycle why I'm piloting this rocketship
Stick in the mud. Scribbling words. Pissing it up. Quickening comes.
If we're speaking figuratively lickety split - I'm bigger than Pun
Haha. I’m a prickly cunt
Tell these punks there’s a new candidate for prick of the month
It’s the Ill Somniloquist
Heads bobbin, when I drop this I'm invincible
My iPod shuffles from Bob Dylan to Bobby Digital
Knocked back a few bob for the principle
I’ll take a wrecking ball to yir Bob the Builder flow
And I'm still fucking safe as houses
Some’dy tell these other muckers that I’ve got the place surrounded
Further resistance will only see yir pain compounded
By a loutish pseudo-intellectual, getting blazed and rowdy
Dr Awkward, I’m updating Dr Seus
Since the Cat in the Hat lost his job, went on the bru
And got the hoose littered with drugs and prostitutes
Want the truth? Any verse that you get off me is off the Hook
Emcees chopped in two like a magician's assistant
Dismissed in an instant by this indigenous misfit
‘Thanks Dave’ – no need tae thank me
I’ll have yir maw dressed in black greetin’ intae a hankie
So it’s stand and deliver on the data highway
My mind state, surfing the greatest crime wave
Looking at you sideways, sipping vodka and limeade
Pulling loose threads, your DNA strands unwinding
Futurist, guerrilla scope, moonsuit brave heart
Your spine chopped for tombstones in ma voodoo graveyard
Bone fragment jigsaw, superglue’d brain parts
Dynamite stickman with a screw loose trademark
The Ill Somniloquist
The Ill Somniloquist spilt infinite quips
I skillfully spit split infinitives that kill lyricists
The most fly blazed spitter since the High Plains Drifter
Wise guys brains shiver, Solareye flames shimmer
My name's never spoken by fakes ever
I’m the wise shape shifter I’m the high-grade grifter
By my wine stained liver, I’ll survive
While emoticons cry great rivers and the primates twitter
Gothic sandstone forests to concrete jungles
Swimming with piranhas in a concave puddle
Putting the mundane in the picture frame
Rap rings round virtual rappers ‘til their vision pixelates
Scribbing Sanskrit stanzas to offbeat companions
Ma feet make cracks in the concrete expansion
Discussing local homicide with Ian Rankin
I’m a mentalist in the West in the East I’ll be the radge-est
The Rejected, belly of the beast beneath the Pageant
Brandishing A Brand New Thing to reach the atlas
Classless, yir man just scratched beneath the madness
As sirens wail in streets left by police, abandoned
World leaders find peace demandin’
We’d need Erasmus to lead the Syrian elite to reach Damascus
Aristocrats buried any sign of the least compassion
So their consciences screech from tombs beneath their mansions
I’m half Danger Mouse, half Penfold
Social discourse over thugged-out instrumentals
I’m pissing on the electronic fence post your sitting on so let go
You know I’ve been the illest from the get go
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6. |
High Spirits (skit)
01:49
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Any plans for the weekend mate?
I keep cocaine in containers in the kitchen
I eat eccies for endorphin enrichment
I be bevied like nobody’s business
I mmm mephedrone with marvellous misfits
(actually, I might just stay in)
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7. |
Summer (Some Buzz)
04:41
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My brain goes buzz… zz… zz…
Legs slung sideways over an empty bath
Sucking air through the side of her mouth between drags
She only smokes when she's high - lost a year to mephedrone
Doesn't mind the Beatles but prefers the Rolling Stones
She looked at me strangely when I told her
That'll probably all change when she's gets older
Ma fists clenched so tight, wrists twisted
Teeth grinding, eyes unfocussed on a space in the mid distance
Eccie headrush for a second makes me shiver
I take another pill watching tracers in the mirror
I wish I was a Mississippi delta blues singer
Then maybe I could wash ma sins off in the river
We trade punchlines in the June sunshine
It's still afternoon - there's too much time
Can't make ma body clockwork - tick tock
Summer got inside and made the springs unwind
I'm disassembling the mechanism
Wait. I’m misremembering the hedonism
Stomach left behind like an old tyre swing
Playing the blues on a broken violin
Meanwhile lasts forever in the portal we flew through
Battle rapping and watching adverts on YouTube
Visiting places that few knew
Bomb some Mandy then pop to the shop for cigarettes and fruit juice
Good balance is true talent but few have it
Mine’s a vod and coke and a fruit salad
The morning arrives with razor tooth talons
Warning the highs that we chase are too gallus
Must’ve drifted off for a wee while
Hello/goodbye with a bittersweet smile
Faces appear from the surroundings in mist
And if you think this story is about you then it is
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8. |
A Day Aff Wi the Wee Man
04:15
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My god I’m tired
I can hardly open up ma eyes
Man, this cannae actually be a time tae get up, I’m shattered
Wee man shouting fae ‘is cot, jumpin on his mattress
Since I went tae bed it feels like I must have walked around the atlas
Then caught up in some Street Fighter vs Tekken madness
Fighting Jin and Ryu, Ken knocked me to the canvas
Boxing a panda wi the strength of a Hadouken when he lamped us
Matched Andre the Giant drink for drink for aboot a week
I’m more done in noo than when I went tae sleep
No one should have to see this time of morning but ma baby's hungry
And I’ve got tae put some food in his tummy
So I'm in the kitchen: cereal, toast, butter and jam
Grubs up wee man, step on a toy car, trip and stumble he laughs
Comedy dad, coffee in hand, stuggling tae see the funnier side
Still dazed, still up late, trading cyphers for nursery rhymes
I need to retreat for minute ‘til ma heid is fixed
Feeling more mashed than this soggy Weetabix
In an alternate dimension I’m sleeping ‘til around two
But right noo I’m driving this vehicle in clown shoes
Tryin’ ae change gear, still bumping that boom bap
While attempting to navigate this route map tae a good dad
Spring has sprung, birds in song and the leaves have come out
Heid in the clouds, feet on the ground, hair like a burst couch
The morra morning it’s back tae the day job
And it’s not like I often have a day off
I’ve went from happy to wreck mics, to nappies and wet wipes
Warm milk, cartoons, a bath and then bedtime
Who’d have thought that a clear head would’ve brought ma napper the best heights
When he’s taking his afternoon nap – that’s when I pen rhymes
So far today I've been a dragon spitting flames
And a cowboy with a wagon on the range
We've put down a multicolour play mat to breakdance
And been giants throwing rocks at clockwork-train tracks
Listened to the black rhinoceros of rap 'stick and move’
Snoop Dogg too, then named all the animals in a picture book
I’ve sang Incey Wincey Spider 101 times
And it’s still another hour until lunchtime
OK I said I’d have 40 winks when I put him down tae bed
But spent the last two hours writing these verses instead
Round two, shoes on wee man, it’s a day to be outside
‘Cause if yi run about mental then you’ll just maybe sleep the night
Crackin’ weather, the park overrun wi smiling weans
Big kids play footie while we negotiate the climbing frame
The older kids'll show up and get drunk in the evening
But right now the park belongs to wee yins
And I just realised how easily I’m breathing, cobweb free in ma cerebrum
We grow up and forget make believe is easy
We follow rules that we can’t see but we believe in
Sometimes I wonder if it’s him or if it’s me that’s doing the teachin’
I take it back, in the whole day I wouldnae change a thing
It beats lying dying on the couch, curtains drawn, grey and grim
Wi the horrors, this having weans stuff is nae bother
Plus - it's his Mam's turn tae get up wi him the morra
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9. |
Klepto & Sons
04:41
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I’m on a tightrope balancing over this beat
With multiple narratives like a split screen
I’m don’t want a place in history
I’m more interested in the next story
Man, I'm feeling pretty special
Who'd you know accused of being too underground and too commercial?
Too accessible with no commercial potential
Dismissed as throwaway while delivering the essentials
I’m a gateway to the hard stuff but granite to yir sandstone
Call yir favourite rapper - tell ‘em him that yir man’s home
Brought a 99, a bucket and spade to a sandstorm
Transform, the ugly truth and make it look handsome
Connecting the dots making sense out of the random
Throw a tantrum on a daily with a calm face in tandem
Listen. It doesn't bother me
Who knows how I Mayfair in this Monopoly
I'd say cheaters never prosper
But leaders change the rules, we should be impeaching the imposters
Who secretly are monsters, ask questions later bomb first
Practice legal torture, unlawful detention and keep calling it God’s work
Just breathe... And let it go
Never was one tae care for a dress code
I call the tune like the notes on a fret board
Words ma pen wrote steal the show like a klepto
Klepto... Just let it go
Never was one tae care for a dress code
Words ma pen wrote steal the show like a klepto
Klepto klepto klepto
I’m a point of reference like a test tone
When things get nippy and aggy I get bored
Ma pencil’s instrumental in killing those instrumentals
Bet those clowns without the red nose get sent home
I said Yes with an X, unimpressed? Yeh’ve got nae hope
Liars make vows and other liars breaks those
Same old, make those most in need scapegoats
Need I say more? Hop on stage we can trade 4s
Now is all of this causing stress for Dave? No
I run the track like a dug at the racecourse
It’s hard being a loudmouth in the afternoon I gouch out
Put on Countdown and watch Rachel Riley wi the sound down
So hop on, there you go chasing tadpoles
Mate every time I sneeze then you catch cold
That style yir using - I'm the owner
And the blood donor that got yi out yir coma
Just breathe
Let’s go. Any tempo, forget the lies and the fakery
Making me lose ma rag and… boom bap! I just blew up the bakery
Mate, I stay on the edge like a coastline
Satnav rappers follow me like a road sign
Now, who said I'm not the greatest? Either you're a psych doctor’s patient
Or overly intoxicated I'm not debating, talk to David
I've been locked away with a lot of rage and
A plethora of awkward statements
So cheerio. I'm trying to be really dope
A decent bloke, have these steely folk fear me though
While me and ma three-year old share this measly bowl of Cheerios
Leaving those fake folks exposed like revealing clothes
Own up. Away an' raffle yir doughnut
But don't front – you were asleep when the drone struck
Get yir camera phones up, I’m about tae go nuts
Shouting at the spyware I’m ready for ma close-up
Just breathe
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10. |
Raindropsbrainbox
04:25
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How'm I meant tae bring the mufukn ruckus
When ma phone is a brick and ma car is a bucket?
And I only make a few duckets off a rhyming couplet
Fuck it. I’m sick of this circus
The world is run by sadists and fuckwits
That treat the planet like Begbie’s pint, pick it up and chuck it
Wait for it tae smash, then come up with some shit
Like ‘no cunt leaves ‘til we find oot what cunt done it’
If yi think protest song is long gone yir listening to the wrong songs
Another lazy pop song, Zzzzz yawn
As predictable as a Vince Vaughan RomCom
And as welcome as a hot rock on a condom
Third-rate second-hand rhymes need first-aid (3,2,1…)
To you this astounding to me this is a Thursday
And I’m crabbit ‘cause these rapper dons just rabbit on like Jessica
I’m rapid getting’ nappers warm, who’s at it? Call the register
I’ve got raindrops filling up in ma brainbox
Forming clouds
Haud on minute mate, what’s the caffuffle?
Goonie emcees are shaking like the truffle shuffle
With their feathers ruffled, come on Columbo
See if yi can detect why I’m being less than humble
Everything on ma to-do list got ticked
Tock tick I’m toxic like a broken clock is
You’re in a ‘daydream’, kick, push, Hook paves the path folks
While you’re all stuck in this loop based fiasco
Check ma résumé – I’ve been trouble since the test tube mate
Venting rage on stage since a wee yin wi’ a swedgered face
Let me get this straight – you can set the date
And we can play a game of who's the greatest reprobate
I’m not bragging but back when rappers were all aggy, knuckle dragging and toe-taggin’
I was patching fashions, fuck a reaction
I took a second to stand back an’
Now it everybody’s jumping on the bandwagon
I’ve got raindrops…
I write ma raps wi a chisel and a breezeblock
Sweetie rappers speak flawed junk that makes their teeth rot
Green with no edge, all from the same pea pod
I'd say please god but the would require that I believe boss
We’re living in a state of emergency: nee naw nee naw nee naw nee naw
Who me? Naw
I’m in ma garden wi’ a wee hauf, bumping Leaf Dog
Tryin’ ae teach ma neighbour’s three dogs tae beatbox
What's up famalam? It's yir mammy’s man
Welcome to hypocrisy in a drama-filled land
Where an upstanding man can get a lap dance
Then complain ‘cause a woman fed her baby from a mammary gland
I’m still rapping – what’s the chances? It’s all fine and dandy
Still rocking holes in ma sannies
I’m still here. Still kicking rhymes for yir mammy
Still pioneering new ways of calling yehs aw fannies
I‘ve got raindrops filling up in ma brainbox
Spilling some then I catch more
And spit them out in the downpour
Forming clouds
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11. |
Didnae Get Repetitive
03:34
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I’ve got you –
Back pedalling putting rhetoric in pedal bins
I’ve run on adrenaline since the Merry and a tenner bit
Unsettling. The verdict is I'm better than
Other elements that slither and try to stick the venom in
Forget the Kool-Aid, I Drank the Benylin,
Goodnight medicine. Codeine tae counteract amphetamines
Level headed on a seesaw of irrelevance
Deerstalking the predator I'm siding with the venison
Serve them with a side order of penitence
Again I’m just a menacing presence in the hip-hop Halls of Residence
It’s ma house now yi better split, call the reverend
I need to exorcise the tenement to purge the evil resident
Resident evil, brainless zombies learnt to spit
Umbrella-less, a storm’s coming and you’re never gonnae weather it
Careful with yir cleverness the devil’s ever present with a verse of scripture and a hefty shove towards the precipice
One thing worth mentionin’
One verse one rhyme scheme - didnae git repetitive
What's with the petulance? Speech marks the eloquence
Try to bracket me and I’ll stick you in parenthesis
Your better sentences reek of empty sentiments
Dead fires in yir settlements, leave now and I’ll let yi live
I’m mister awkwardness, specialist speech therapist
Thinking that yir better yi can whistle like a Theremin
Heroine and Haggis, Pieute yes I'm reppin it
Shouts to Focus Skate Shop, Neu Reekie! and Rebel Inc
I read the wrong bible call me terrorist
Or freedom fighter might be righter ‘cause ma skin lacks the melanin
History is relative. Listen kid it's imperative
You get on the right side of the story when yir telling it
It’s all in the editing, ask yirsel who benefits
At the end of it I’d still rather be Tesla than Edison
So if as writer I control the script then heads’ll spin
And ma suggestion is yi wind yir neck in like a terrapin
One more thing worth mentionin’
Two verses one rhyme scheme - didnae git repetitive
Ladies and gentlemen. Careful what yir stepping in
The cultures we invested in are annexed by the mega rich
Like selling off the Post Office to privatised confederates
I don’t mean letters when I say the poor can’t get their messages
The system teaches weans ‘go where the cheddar is’
No need tae make things, it's all about how we’re selling them
Ash faced MPs declare the arts irrelevant
And worship at the alters of Nasdaq and Merril Lynch
I’m saved by ma own personal Seraphim,
Angel-faced with razor blades to keep me level-headed with
If yir not Stella then yir not ready to mess with this
Wedded with a beauty and a deadliness
She of the temperament, explosive like acetylene
Steel petal shows her mettle with a healthy dose of gentleness
So all you heavy kids that revel in yir mentalness
Can chew on that it might correct your speech impediment
One last thing worth mentionin’
Three verses one rhyme scheme - didnae git repetitive
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12. |
@PAM (skit)
01:21
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I’m a different person every night time
A million different people in ma life line
And they all look back in ma direction when I look at ma reflection
All these people are ma right mind
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13. |
Hatekeeprz
04:04
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Let’s lock the doors and call each other geniuses
If yir in a scene don’t yi get tired of the scenery?
I’m mean there’s these, moany wee binary fandans
Somewhere between clueless crusaders and rap fans
Local gatekeepers – doomed to make the same mistakes
Obsessed wi what’s real and what’s fake
You’re strangling the very culture that you elevate
Like: ‘I love you so much I just don’t want you to ever change’
Holding on to it so tight like you’ve got it by the throat
If you don’t let something grow you’ll only kill it or stunt its growth
You’re an echo of a copy of a Chinese whisper
A mild breeze trying tae imitate mid-winter
Repeating a message that you mishead
Trying tae catch up dandelion seeds as the disperse
Rules that were meant to be guidelines to build on
Conceived in a lightening storm – you’re a millpond
You’re a forest of headstones where only death grows
With a mind so closed it turns flesh cold
You’re a maze of dead ends in a good idea cemetery
Converting original melodies into pitiful zealotry
If I made a carbon copy of boom bap greatness
That would be the definition of appropriation
That would be stealing from the creators
I’m trying tae speak in ma own voice from their inspiration
We want revolution – you hold back evolution
While imagining you’re some kind of purist
Trying to preserve a living thing with embalming fluid
Look it stupit – if yi don’t like something just don’t listen to it
I got intae hip-hop, light years fae the South Bronx
And got lost, in amongst the wordsmiths and outlaws
Remixing and dismantling the contents of the novel
Making something new from the rubble
It ain’t where you’re from, it’s where you’re at – that’s Rakim
But beware of traps set by scaredy-cats pulling yi back in
Most people in life are brand new
But a mad few would rather tell yi whit yi can and can’t do
Dangerous words like get back where yi belong
To the back of beyond, trying ae put yi back in yir box
Outmoded kingmakers watching the throne
Hold the roots too tight and you’ll stop them from growin’
Standing in front of a door of an empty lift shaft
Trolls under the bridge shouting none shall pass
Like Redman and B-Real said - time for some action
Folks on the margins about to get to gatecrashing
There’s an end-of-level gatekeeper: short-sight, blind faith
Bouncer face, arms crossed, saying ‘no the night mate’
Knock politely, get on yir tip-toes, peer in the windaes
If they still ignore yi take that door aff it’s hinges
To be clear, this is not originators or the source
This is local wee ghosts, who think they embody the host
Parasites living inside other people’s paradigms
Often found online dispensing bad advice
Performing someone else’s style and taking the applause
Claiming that their hot but probably the fakest of the lot
Apologies if this seems like whinging about whinging
Too late I’ve said it noo the’s cat among the pigeons
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14. |
||||
Location: ma head. Population: one of many
Where voices with conflicting opinions are ten a penny
Mr Margins, fearsome and timorous
Conducting lunar orchestras for nocturnal chimeras
All these people are me – that’s the fiction
It’s just an excuse for being a walking contradiction
And if you question ma convictions
I can always blame it all on the human condition
There’s no better reason
If you want to breathe better The Trick is to Keep Breathing
It’s an obvious statement but you’d be amazed at
The number of people are suffocatin’ on a daily basis
So who the fuck am I? I’m a beautiful butterfly
The last good thing in the world yi can’t monetise
A baby’s love reflected in its mother’s eyes
I’m summer skies or a flame you thought had died come alive
Take me to pieces, tear me apart
Spare me the speeches, break-beat ma heart
Scrape me off the ceiling – ribs, legs and arms
And put it all back into bottles and jars
I heard the scene was buzzin’
So I just dropped in tae kill it tell the driver keep the meter running
My card’s marked like playing wi a card shark
It’s a shame ma ambitions only run tae being a smart arse
Started out on track, now I’m in the dark lost
Claiming ma genres give me carte blanche
Tae say whatever the fuck I want
Under the guise that braggadocio’s an art form
These are the conflicts I’m torn in half with
I’m half whiz-kid, half-half-wit, but don’t know whit half’s whit
And if this half splits, while I spit raps quick
In ma mismatched kicks, I’ll still get this rap riff-raff ripped
Big Issue John died, I never did buy ma copy mate
Just walked away, weighted down by ma pocket change
I draw this place and populate the stage with words from a page
Put notes on a stave, for someone else to orchestrate
Take me to pieces, tear me apart
Spare me the speeches, break-beat ma heart
Scrape me off the ceiling – ribs, legs and arms
And put it all back into bottles and jars
Flip the script when some cat says
‘He’s like this’ and ‘she’s like that’
In case before the first act ends
You find you’ve been typecast
All these labels just won’t stick
Peel them off and get them binned
It’s OK when the day begins
To wake up in another skin
A table made to list your traits
Two columns plus and minuses
Leaves no room for light and shade
That live among the binary
Don’t worry if from time to time
You feel as if you lose yourself
Cause names that make a bruise can heal
And truth is I’m confused as well
So horde your contradictions up
And fill them out with bricks and mud
A home to house the things you love
From folks that are too quick to judge
Don’t let the poisoned few
Pidgeon hole your point of view
Girls in pink and boys in blue
If the song gets old then coin a tune
Reinvent your voice anew
To rise above these jealousies
Find the notes to buoy your mood
And try another melody
One passage that they underlined
To highlight to a younger mind
Change yir stripes a hundred times
For clarity – stay undefined
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Solareye Edinburgh, UK
Dave Hook writes rhymes. Sometimes Dave Hook calls himself Solareye.
Sometimes he raps with Stanley Odd. Mostly he makes stuff rhyme.
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