credo

Lemme get that old fashioned hip hop music
Break and a loop like it ain't nothing to it
Lake to the stoop, how it gets my folks through it
Street level kids from the beemers to the buicks

Let’s bump it back to sets, labels on black cassettes
Demos on the demographic, who raps it best
Dollars on a distro, home dub TDKs
Inserts at Kinkos, the bug here to stay

Shows live energy, seas of sweating frenemies
Basements and back rooms, 500 pennies
Flyers like mementos, handbill keepsakes
Too adored to wind up in landfills,

Gemini looper, straight hand skills, real time
Feel prime, just gettin wheels on the line
Young dumb bubble gum, feels on the mind
Young catch as catch can, feels on behind

All in the endless eternal relentless
Inferno of hormones, start the life sentence
Drives for affection, all forms of attention
Some go to extremes and wind up defendants

I remember Mario, moments on Main St
Southeast E, the salad bowl that hazed me
Some cats will never make it back for the reunion
So I never saw the point in going back for a reunion

I walked the night and saw what the world did to you
Still remember every inch of shit we been through
But like Tariq said with that flow like a ginsu
I shall, proceed, and continue

posture

Keep it street like hand to hand, demands and reprimands
That weak shit will never stand against these clever plans
Let it bang to Neverland, payback for the tortured
Maybachs to the porch, blow the spot and let it scorch

Balls in four courts, keep service, rounds endless
Cuts to the wax like a pack of proud dentists
Doin it the old way, no painkiller pendants
No hotcue keys, just a sticker on the record

Requiring encyclopedic knowledges for content
12 seconds gotcha feelin rich with the sonics
Buzz in the basket kept the bees in the bonnet
Beats matched by hand, sweet in the pocket

Locally sourced, innocent innovation
The spark that lifts off a life of levitation
Every point connects to the original equation
In the distance sits the Omega, but until then

Me and this heat are still friends like a quill pen
Links to the ink, blood money still spends
Pray for easy days, chill friends and relations
Breezy in breezeway with no trepidation

Cuz
4x I’ll be on the mic with my styles like,

boasts

No need to warn ya, I'm in the corner
Blowing up the mic like a universal soldier
Rip it up, flexin, I spit to perfection
Rhyme styles defy analysis or inspection

Go and get your gadgets, the average can't hack it
Disrupt the planet with the language of havoc
Sufficiently advanced tech mistaken for magic
Wrap cocaine in wholesome and call it Bob Saget

Papa’s got a brand new hit for the drummer
Crates gonna drop a lotta shit for the plumber
Hold it up and blow it out, stiggity bum wonder
And still got the flow to mack your girl for her number

Dead serious, effects for das bottom of der woofer
Like troopers from the future who jump back to shoot ya
Sent by the deep blue computer with a looper
But I’m super duper, cuter than your suitors

All charm and excellence, selfish intelligence
I’m out to get it by any standard measurement
Hot blooded temperment, cool it with a snapple
Bottle it up for the amateur battles

I been out on Cermak for chicken fried rice
Posers all salty I been gettin my slice
Reppin my spice and the spice must flow
Now who wanna pop at Necro Pondr on the grow

All in, all phenomenal
Defoe in the desert all despondent for his obstacles
Split to the follicles, every part of buffalo
Pushin at the gruesome bits, hairnets keep it loveable

I never had to flip a sandwich for a buck
My homies in the aprons never had that kinda luck
City lights callin till it’s 5 in the morning
Suns up crowin and the whole crew is yawning

lake

The world feels young, like it's only just begun

I was in the streets with my backpack and black fitted
Steady writing every day, whole book of raps spitted

Wild

25 years since I was 16
All I wanted was dope gear and beat machines
Middle class kid with some big budget dreams
Had a hundred notebooks splitting at the seams

Nothin like 1994, had my Chevy
Bangin steady pedal to the floor
On the 94 and got it up to 94
Some moments frozen till the day I'm 94

Spirit of the 78 and seven-deuce
Some kids like a little fight to get loose
Sherman Ave parking garage on the roof
Jody on the ledge all jokes for the crew

Echoes on the shoreline, lake in the distance
A-Zone Saturdays, infants in resistance
I brought a girl to food not bombs just to squeeze her tiddits
And I did it, holy shiddit she fiddled my diddick

Precum and physics, a time for education
Read the Tao Te Ching and did my daily meditation
Start to dig in the basement for instrumentation
2.5 second samples adding up to greatness

Everybody on that tape shit, mixtapes to demos
Soundbites from indies, Keitel all mellow
Lost a lot of sleep when it’s all done and settled
Worth it when you see the cuties bouncing that jello

2x
HELLO, bet it ain't jam when you hear the beats slam
Pete the beast, dreads bleached, thieves in the van
Hot summer nights and the future in our hands
If you have to ask you may never understand

4x
If you have to ask, you may never understand

All the beachfronts in Evanston are lined with rocks, these pieces of smashed up buildings and old construction. Part of being a bored kid in that town is crawling up and down the rocks at the lake. Part of being a bored teen is going there to smoke weed, drink, make out, part of being a scared teen is stashing your shit and running from cops. It’s still part of the fabric of that town for semi-dangerous gangs of bored teens to travel in packs at night, looking for trouble and flirting with criminal instincts. Maybe some things will never change.