Zebehazy Summer

by Passalacqua

supported by
Diego Garcia
Diego Garcia thumbnail
Jon Kopecky
Jon Kopecky thumbnail
Chris Genetti
Chris Genetti thumbnail
close
/
00:00
00:00

  • Digital Album

    Immediate download of 10-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

    Buy Now  $5 USD  or more

  • Zebehazy Summer CD

    ...because you like physical copies!

    Includes immediate download of 10-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

    Buy Now  $5 USD

    ships out within 2 days
1.
01:03
info
download
2.
03:03
lyrics
download
3.
02:06
lyrics
download
4.
03:29
lyrics
download
5.
(free) 03:54
lyrics
download
6.
01:16
download
7.
03:15
lyrics
download
8.
01:56
lyrics
download
9.
02:03
lyrics
download
10.
03:06
lyrics
download

credits

released 26 October 2011
Mister x Blaksmith x Erno The Inferno

@thenameismister -- heyitsmister.com
@theblaksmith -- coldmenyoung.com
@ernotheinferno -- ernotheinferno.tumblr.com


Produced/Engineered/Mixed/Mastered by Justin Weiss (Ferndale, MI)
Additional vocals: LynShannon Denise, Sara Fraser, Lisa Stocking, Chris Butterfield, Ben Miles
Saxophone: Dave Daniele

Special thanks to Rich Hunt

Artwork: Hellofreaks.com

tags

tags: detroit experimental funk hip hop hip-hop/rap rap boogie dance michigan soul Michigan

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist

about

"Passalacqua is more of a condition." @thenameismister. @theblaksmith.

Their cuts thrive on subtler grooves while their words thrive on introspection; songs-as-earnest character studies as the two passionate wordsmiths mesh their own musical and personal philosophies via traded verses, set to driving beats and demure, yet dazzling soul and funk. ... more

shows

contact / help

For help with downloads, click here.

For all other inquiries, including help with merch, click here.

Redeem download codes here.

Track Name: Lovers Leap
I've been driving like a maniac
For what seems like days
Through mountains that deserve a bit more attention
I reckon
But I can't say for certain which direction
My thoughts plan to turn as this road, it keeps stretchin'
For now it's on two things:
The venue I'm headed to, and the unabashed iridescence that you bring
Outshining the former in every instance
Intensifying over prolonged distance
If the bottom falls out of this hunk-o'-junk I'm driving before I'm home
Then this bedraggled bag o' bones'll
Walk however far that they need to go to
Trace your spine with the bridge of my nose, and to
Synchronize our accelerated pulses
Revel in the joy of stomach muscles convulsing
Once again,
Whether a week or month more,
First thing when I get back, I'm headed to your door to just chill...

Come on with the come-ons and so on
And so forth to go on
If I have step and you move slow
We prolong a sure thing
Imagine what it could bring
We been gun shy for so long
I wouldn't be here if I wasn't meant to be in your existence
That's gotta have some worth
From the summit to the bivouac
Back to the bottom where we climb again
Til something in our lungs burst
Now we on the edge looking for the right signs
The locks in your hair symbolize a lifetime
And I been knowing you, watching you, wondering
When you will let me into where you say your sun don't shine
No need for jitters and cold feet
Everything natural is the motif
You never been open to the elements
Me, with my emotions
We both in it so deep
Salvation over the red rocks
Mercy under the sky
Consumed by this glorious high
We fly...
And as we leap we leap into forever
We fly...
To all my loved ones, hope they read this letter
Track Name: Rapraprapraprap (pt. 1)
Wake up,
Wanna bake up but I can't,
So I just put my pants on one leg at a time
I go to check my email,
Ended up getting one from,
Her, she couldn't fulfill everything I desire
I don't want this messy
Yolk up on my bread now,
Getting all of it soggy, complicated and awkward
So I go to my job where,
I don't get much accomplished,
All stuffed up and groggy with no money for the doctor

I'm a rambling idiot, nit-picky belligerent
Ick-sticky incinerator- y'see?
I drift from topics easily.
Needless seaming all this stream-of-conscious scenery
With eagerness to speak on allegiance between the weed and me
Daydreaming until, the clock it hits 5
Then I'm then I'm off on a 20-minute drive
Leading me back home, where I can get in that zone
Writing up a damn song, and my bad mood is gone

Sun shining as strong as raw garlic
Working on a gold medal farmers tan until I'm carsick
I for one am sick of these persnickety parsnips
That try to gain admission to my starship
But they done miss the target
Talkin' all that, talkin' all that garbage
Reekin' like a Bushwhackers armpit - hey,
Now I'm no Rick "The Model Martel" or Mr. Perfect,
But Spike Dudley's shouldn't be messin' with El Gigante's
Track Name: Ms. Washington (Bridge Card Hustle)
Ms. Washington,
I gotta ask just why you feel the need to cut my supply?
I'm flattered you feel I'm such a hardworking guy, but,
I can assure you I ain't got the job
That you think
I'm driving off to
For something like 8
Hours out of everyday - it ain't true
And that is no lie
I'm wondering how you could even think that way
The flat-screen that got delivered, it isn't mine
And as far as leaving in the morning dressed to the nines?
I really feel that's some hullabaloo and I don't wanna discuss
Minutia that you're trying to pursue
(Uh huh, uh huh)
I'm flummoxed, Ms. W
I was contemplating whether or not I would trouble ya
But the fact that you would even consider to cut up my
Card like that, bitch, you're aiming at my jugular!

Oh, Ms. Washington
Don't terminate my funds
I'm having too much fun
That time won't ever come
Gotta get my nails done - gotta get my coke and rum
It's not my problem
That you can't see the truth

If the imperial, national, capital wanna claim me
Well then Ms. Washington gotta pay me
Gimme money so my girl don't gotta strip like copper thieves
All she wanna do is confess to shopping sprees
Knock some knees, brush the shoulders of the highest villains
Sip Pinot Grigio with penicillin, talk philosophy
Socrates and Sappho
Just enough money left to dress up and press out her afro
Cash flow run longer than the Euphrates
Been benefiting since the mid 80s
You see her daddy was a stone roller, neighborhood bone donor
Knocked her mama up and the mama got lazy
And the baby grew up on state assistance, health care,
Welfare, food-stamps that's all she know
And for us to cuddle up then I had to double up
So I applied to and my money's hardly low
I really ain't kill nobody
Ain't no crime
But if I get denied one more time
I'm afraid she'll leave
And use the same card that she get over to live
To get over the bridge
Yeah

Ms. Washington why don't you understand?
I said, uh,
Ms. Washington, why don't you understand what I'm doin'?
Track Name: Sirens
It was a warm white night with a full black moon
All the original sins croon in the back room
Bird women with dragon tattoos
The daughters of the earth
Draw me in like a fuckin' vacuum
Irresistibly weak
Persephone sweet
Women of the underworld tend to give a different release
They want my death tragic
Like a meth addict
When it's all over turn around and wet rag it
The sex magic
Voodoo
Shred me to pieces
Love me with a song
Don't got no love for these creatures
Leeches
Yearn for men in search of treasure
On the beaches naked looking like Fran Drescher
Sound like her too
A voice to kill
I succumb to her wrath get it moist until
Everybody in the same trance (YES)
Everybody do the same dance (YES)

Just this one night with you
Is all I need to make you mine...

Ice cold easy
Make you want to scream

These aviated harlots, they are out for me
Insistent upon unbeknownst alchemy
I never felt that kinship, and yet, I can assess
They're out to turn a smooth sail into a shipwreck
Out to turn a smooth sail into a shipwreck
And ring once again as a signal of distress
Chimerical voices, foisted on planks of ravaged men
Given little in the way of choices
The windswept oft forget that a tempest,
It doesn't mind transforming into a temptress
Two-winged seductress - coquettish go-getter
Banking on a mariner overboard
Man, what an overlord, making me nauseous
If without wax, better befriend an Orpheus
Or you and your associates are gonna gonna fall prey
To the lilt that these maidens have put on display...
Track Name: High Anxiety (feat. Ben Miles)
Face look like a stained window
In a room playing the same demo
The pain's mental like my mind's burning in flames with no escape
Like I'm stuck
When's the last time I ate, when's the last time I slept
What the fuck?
Deprivation flows
All that's left is my spoken words
Cut me open see the broken nerves
17 was a very good year, soft nights
Me and small town girls used to hide from the lights
But now the days grow short
Lord knows I want plenty more
I'm in the autumn of my years at 24
I'm an insomniac and a hypochondriac
Macabre thoughts knock at every door
Cock back, I'm at heavy war with myself
There's nobody else
See I'm the only one
Try'na hold it all together
With small change and a feigned smile
Darkness all around
Blocking out the sun

He knows that he's falling - I hope you don't.

It's one of those nice nights in the city
That I'm all too accustom to:
People try to get a hold of me any way that they can, so
Pickin' up the phone's one thing I never do, 'cause
Inside of my mind, it happens a lot
And it's approximately whenever the rappin' will stop
When I'm consumed by the gloom of debt and gotta
Figure out a way to get a bit of grub by tomorrow
Creative process slows, glazin' over envelopes that read,
"Important Account Information Enclosed"
...and three times a day,
Sallie Mae's on my case with the same ol' same
With a gallon of gas at $3.78
Exacerbating my bank account at a pace
That I cannot catch up to, focus disintegrates
Due to beers that I chase with a blunt to the face

[Ben Miles]
My mind's spinning like a fan blade
Bugging out about my mincy little fan base, really need a damn break
I'm trying to get on, and every single beat I spit on
I shit on but nobody listens
These little shows are like prisons
This 30 person crowd got my heart banging loud
I'm stressed the fuck out
Either I can't rap for shit or being the shit just doesn't make a difference
Keep the hating to a minimum act like a gentleman
Go to crowded shows and I clap at the end of them
But the envy got me feeling greener than a gremlin
The upper echelon's lexicon ain't no better than
The penmanship I'm peddling or pedigree I represent
I'm the only one who seems to see that
Maybe I should put the mic down and just ease back
Whole thing's got me stressed out, I don't need that...
Track Name: Rapraprapraprap (pt. 2)
You see I rap a story great at an ambulatory pace
Some shit I'm just too old for, call it statutory rape
But I plant my seed
Call me Johnny
You my apple, orange and grape
Urban farmer, turn your ground up, here's a sample for your taste
I put in hard work
Baby, I'ma stallworth
Your raps like chewing plastic, carcinogens make my jaws hurt
Killing me slow, yo, my ears burn but over the years learned that
What pushes my buttons the same thing that makes my gears turn

So the rapture's like the best day ever
Infinitely moving over worse or for better
Never let up
We just playing those rare 45's
That shit'll get you live
The A & B sides
All love, we vibe
Yet we vie for who the leader
I stand accused repeat offender off funky cool medina
No time for tweeting dirty photographs to Huma Weiner
No lie I'm out the door before they realize what's between us
In a 69 fast back, with 69 flashbacks of how we got up in this mess
Like 69 ass crack
Skip beyond pass that
I'm heading into exile, come back with the freshest textiles

Next I'll see my haberdasher ask him what suit should I wear
French cuffs up insert something beautiful there
Around my arm that I found around the way
Play my music and her hair go round & round
Call her hula-hoop head
She got me spinning like I'm breathing air through a paper bag
Lick her face just to make her mad
Cause I love her like I love every girl like I love every summer
I'ma seasonal polygamist with regional participants in numbers.
Track Name: Sunset City
Pool parties, open wine bottles, stale peppermints
Horseflies, talking heads, talking bout the deficit
Apple Pie Moonshine, afternoon high
June, July-end, playing chess with friends

Deodato plays in a Woodbridge haze
Heat index at 108 - I won't shave
Late-night coney runs, barbecue Better Made's
Valentine Vodka in the Paul Newman lemonade

Drive-ins watching mobster movies with dark shades,
As if I'm made like "FUCK YOU, PAY ME"
Maple syrup and a slice of bread made due
Position four fans gotta portable AC

It's the same in Carolina as it is in Illinois
And everywhere else - whether waterside,
Shore-front, driver's seat, backyard, rooftop, et al.
Breathe in your Sunset City.

'Cause this is Sunset City.

Runny nose, stuffy nose, transformers blow,
Lockouts, shutdowns, mushrooms grow,
Day breakers, they break us
And I'm just a happy slave with a gilded watch and a nappy mane

Oberon's, modern music ride-a-rounds, stormy lakes
Holdin' on to all that remains of these summer days
But there ain't much at all no more, there ain't much at all...

The stress don't leave and the breeze is a brevity
But it's quite difficult to set aside the energy
We smoke up, drink up, soak up, etcetera
Me, you, and Sunset City.
Track Name: Own Thing
I rhyme when I'm asleep, I rhyme when I'm awake
I rhyme anytime I decide I want to say
Just what's on my mind, it's just how it comes
Over Stubblefield drums, the funky bassline
And whatever else Erno will add to the background
I'm cool with - think you can step is foolish
10 years in the making, hard work and patience
Will age our craft and we continue to do this!

I think I'm some player
Drum major of the movement
Gunslinger
Like I'm James Beckworth
Fur trader by day, work so hard that I gotta bloody arm
But I gotta great network
Head first when I fall in a reservoir
So far ahead of y'all like I built my own timepiece
I check every hour on the hour for arrival making sure that I'm landing on time, see
I grew up on an air force base with a snare horn bass and that boom-boom-clap
And uh, I hate unoriginal material
That off-brand cereal, that shoe-coon rap
And uh my rhythm so Arcadian, radiant, say again brother do you gotta minute gotta minute?
What's the definition of ya' style
I dunno
I just make it up like watermelon watermelon UH!