Passalacqua

by Passalacqua

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02:37
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02:54
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04:00
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04:37
6.

about

Mister x Blaksmith x Dr. B

HEYITSMISTER.COM
COLDMENYOUNG.COM

Additonal vocals from Alicia Martin and James Linck (House Phone)

Scratches supplied by DJ PrimeMinister

Recorded by Matt Jones @ The House of Wax - Southfield, MI

Produced by Dr. B


Artwork by Jerome @ hellofreaks.com

credits

released 11 January 2011

@thenameismister
@theblaksmith

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist
Track Name: Pineapple Faygo
I don't sound like Bon Iver, Sam Beam or Dallas Green
No, that is not me, see,
I ain't got the pipes to entice come nighttime
My voice isn't soft-light outlining your thoughts despite signs
That I am passionate...all the while called a "fag"
'Cause I don't feel the need to go and brag about the ass I get
I care about you too much
And I know that I cannot complete with those whimsical fucks

So I sound the way I do, the way I do right here
Here's hoping that my cd ain't under your root beer
Here's hoping that my cd invaded your two ears
'Cause, uh, that's all I can expect
With my genuine sentiment set to a tune that is relevant to me
However, evidence would lead to elements of those three in certain scribblin's
It's not necessarily fibbin'
But listen lady, I don't see myself working on my whisperin'...


What you lookin' for?
Sniffin' me out like a German Shepard
Diggin' in my yard, now who the dog?
Who the lesser?
You so pressed for, that upper echelon
Magna cum laude from Pepperdine
Decathlon for your love to be successful
XOXO, I won't text you every hour on the hour
That's way too stressful, I don't have time
I'll put my feelings into escrow
I'd rather spend my time giving you the death stroke
If you don't like it fine
You still bite it, why?
Just throw it away like egg roll

Too much pride, you lust I
You full of yourself you Prego
I'm feeling myself, I'm Pharaoh while I'm sippin' on my Faygo
Ey girl gon, like goo gong
Look I don't mean no harm
But I am my father's son and my pimp game is too strong
I'm two-toned, divided
Near-sided so come here closer
I'm a different kinda cat - I use the ashtray as a coaster
Poster child of the wild, smitten with mental stress
Take a sip, take a hit and I flick it on your dress
I'm a mess. . .


I just wanna get high
And drink my Pineapple Faygo...
Track Name: Bad Grammar
Can you believe in what you can't see at a long distance?
Something's wrong, different, like early stages of autism
Small children with birth defects
The earth's rejects
Sporting the dunce but we artistic
The narcissists, the architects and tall christians
All dissin cause I ain't have no Bar Mitzvah
(I'm still the man)
And what you lack is what I call wisdom
(I'm feeling it)
To get it back that's when I call Mister

Cause a lot of y'all I can't fuck with
Can't be trusted dumb shit
Motives suspect
And who would think that your best friend
Would be your worse enemy and your enemy your best friend?
Stare into the air - inspiration from the weed
They laugh as my thumbs bleed
But I pay em' no mind, though
I pay em' no mind
I gotta keep moving, nah, I ain't got the time...


When I jump in, in a place that feels appropriate
Time slows down, like I'm up to my ears in opiates
I'm an intergalactic hobo searching for a soundscape to call my own little utopia, and
I weave 'em together as one
Though never will I claim to be a laureate
Barely literate in my DeLorean
Casually gliding in some sort of cosmic haze after losing all coordinates

Stressing these whiskers grey
Would be a waste of time and energy that I cannot replace, so
The glide be taken in stride
With the green-label Visine sitting by my side
Watchin' for deer in high beams, y'always catch a few
But they don't dip - it's all beef, no au jus
I pay 'em no mind though, I pay 'em no mind
I gotta keep movin', nah, I ain't got the time...
Track Name: Tom & Bootsy
Fallin' down to cold, cold ground on foggy nights
In towns with no cheer beside my broken bike
Anywhere I lay my head, go an' call my home
But please wake me if that girl from Istanbul's on the phone
Lonesome towns need a new coat of paint
Call me small change, waiting for the one that got away
Down there by the train, might face a little rain
That's the way the gravy stains, no complaints

Signed, ice cream man under a grapefruit moon
Diamonds on my windshield, saving all my love for you
Unfortunately, you're my invitation to the blues
At the corner of Heartattack + Vine with old shoes
Or possibly Kentucky Avenue, I don't remember
Jitterbug boy, succumbing to strange weather,
Warm beer and cold women, home, home I'll never be
Wishing I could believe that the world was green...


*scratch scratch*


Stretching out it a rubberband
If 6 was 9, I'd be a stubborn man
Pinocchio Theory
I get vocal so hear me, watch me body slam
Those talking loud
But ain't saying nothing on Kevin Nottingham
Yabba Dabba rappers
I'm on another frequency
Naughty and nasty with audio classics
I'm a, star in these glasses
Haughty but passive
Wind me up
PARTY ON PLASTIC!

Roof peeler, suit feeler
Back in the day, The Best Of Bootzilla
I'm standing in the shadows of Motown
P Funk the beat
I'd rather be with you in a showdown
Shino-Myte rag-poppin
Take a lickin, keep on kickin
Bootsy get it live like ham hockin
Man stop it I'm jam fan
Hands down
I'm catfish, I'm Clinton
Listen, I'm James Brown
Track Name: Footprints
She never gets to rest a wink
It's like she's always on the go
And sometimes, she doesn't even know
If she can hold off the landlord just a few more days
Before he gives her the ol' heave-ho
This is no way to live, but
There ain't much in the way of options
She keeps a, steady stream of boxes
Wherever she's at, reminding her: no relaxing
Never settles in or finishes unpacking

Most of her belongings remain in storage
And the storage space, she can barely afford it
See, the paychecks dwindle every single week, and
After bills are paid, she's broke the same weekend
No family to lean on, or lover to believe in,
Gas in the tank or food to be eaten
Parting ways with, anything worth redeeming
To keep her afloat, before the freezing..


I sold all my memories
Everything I've ever seen
Does that count for anything?


His life is under construction
He try to purge out the bad,
Like a city under corruption
To the repugnant republic - subject...
A saint that ain't remembered for nothing
Take his world and measure the circumfrence
More than anything he earns when he punches
Barely functions off two parts grind
Two pots black and two parts luncheon

Now and then he likes to sit up in the break room out of it
Lord of his land want them dollars in
Kicks his feet up on the table like an ottoman
Smokes a hundred, while he crack open that bottled gin
He lift it to his face -
His face lifts like it's collagen
Following the road of a common man
Finding meaning in his lifetime
Lost in the world, but found in his right mind


Where do I go when I am all alone?
Track Name: Passalacqua
Never been the one to talk
Always been the one to walk by myself
As I talk to myself
Like a bump in a log keep my thoughts to myself
Let me off right here where it's dark but it helps
To relieve any thoughts of me offing myself
Dissention, closing dimensions
Did I mention my visions pint it
But the tensions clipping
I keep it all to myself
Thrown in water, thrown in fire
My desires journey to a level higher
Hear the voices, hear the choir
Fear the gospels, fear the sirens
I am passed my threshold in the den of the lion
Silent, try not to trip the wire
Go crazy
If these angels lift my grandmamma up from Gaia

So I march to Zion with my blinders on
Please turn it up it's my kinda song
Hard at hearing, not at home
I ride alone
Gone where sane and the insane meet
Gone where the dreams are for real, can't sleep
Gone where the paranoia's grown
And the serotonin's strong in my body
And the pain is deep
Ain't it sweet
So it seems
(Exhale) Check my pulse, breathe
Moving at my own speed
Part of me is of that cold breed
Pardon me and all my nose bleeds
My soul needs peace in the holding tank
How much shit am I suppose to take?


When I go in my mind
It's an easy way to get away
When I go in my mind
I don't want to turn off the lights


See, it's often troublesome to start
Pen drags, but direction, it lacks
And direction is needed for me to be at least
Remotely pleased with the track
So back I go,
Peddling through the scribbled-up papers
Lookin' for a line to save me and
Be my hero
It used to happen all the time, but it really hasn't done so lately
I gotta keep movin'
I can't keep my demons at bay or appease anyone that I love
For it's never enough, anything that I do
So the writing distracts and remains the essential tool of my arsenal
I can't believe I ever let a single motherfucker render me inaudible
And maybe that's why I'm speaking at a pace
That I won't slow down, no matter what you say

I shouldn't be pointing fingers
I should be pointing the ink
To the blank of the bone-white pages 'til they're all stained
Goddammit it, it feels like I ain't rhyme for ages
'Cause I'm always thinking a bunch
But a lot of the times, I tend to hate it
"It" meaning the rhyme, if the rhyme in question
Is egregiously articulated
Yeah, it's a domino effect from there
The pen will stop moving and I just won't care
If I finish a verse that is halfway done
Or put a hurt on my lungs beyond repair
This ongoing battle of decision-making is an understated fact
And just when I've all but lost every ounce of my hope
Something clicks in my head and I roar on back
Track Name: Been A Minute
It's been a minute, since we were menace
Vintage imprinted in my mind free
Running like Dennis Kucinich, going nowhere
Peeking out the window to get in it
Now we snappin' on the records like Guiness
Brilliant
Pull wisdom like oral hygenists
Now you got your own practice and I got my own clinic
Bidness
Seeking prophets
Like folks falling on hard times to find answers
Stimulis
Check my sentence, I be doing time
But I be doing, I be doing, I be doing fine
Cuz I be working out, while you sharpen your mind
Behind these bars it's survival of the
Fittest
My shark tale's been growing enormous
The buffet is open, I can eat all the fish
Fillet
To the top, till the gas pump stops
Till I'm full, till I'm bout to pop
Finish

*scratch, scratch*


It's like, hey dude, where do I start?
I had to part with the North when my throat was parched
Shit, all that I did was meander in the dark
Look, lookin' for a light, search, searchin' for a spark
Found it
Then I saw the full scope, and it was at that point that I was utterly astounded
Sought refuge in the ink
As I was introduced to the vixens, to the smoke, to the drink

And admittedly - not much of a surprise -
At one time or another, all three done crippled me
Retreated to the Mitten when my vision was blurred
Thankfully I never stopped referring to written word
For advice and, you know as well as I,
Some of the stuff that comes out of your pen is hard to describe
It's got me out of binds that sideswiped my concentration
Ten years condensed to an 8-bar summation?
Hmm.

Last time we saw one another, neither of us would have expected this
Speaking our minds so readily whenever we please
Sashimi raw, reaching almost unattainable bliss
Every road has a bit of a wind
Each one with a specific design
Many a difference between yours and mine
And yet, we ended up following the same signs
Now whenever times get tough, we bust out with the rhymes like UH!