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Young boys treasure
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This is one of those coming of age joints. True all the way through.
hiphop rap underground nyc flip la p plus uncle scam clique
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It's never too late to waste a little time. This is mastabeta.
Honest rap. Anybody in a pink jumpsuit need not apply, unless of course you are man enough to wear it without checking with your friends every ten minutes. ------------------------------------------------- "A fine collection of bad dubs. I'm just glad it exists." -EPL
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Alternative Hip Hop
Charts
Peak #6,828
Peak in subgenre #534
Author
Mastabeta aka E.Lugo
Rights
1999 Zombiehead/Goodrobot
Uploaded
March 13, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.4 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
Seeing through the salts of fabricated accusations...uncivilized slug derived from pure penetration...no foreplay, just liquor breath and sodomy...my nightmares are having dreams to dead the man who fathered me... I remember the "tractor"...thrown by daddys drunken hand...the factor was the "fist" so I pretend to understand... why did everynight have to end in such drama? Needles played a role in the possession of my father... my mother was a wreck, daily two pints of "Georgie"....frying up her brains on cigarette and cold coffee... I dreaded 8 o' clock when the glass was all broken...this from back in the days of 60 cent fucking tokens... vodka on the floor, smokey basement apartment stank like enough angel dust to make a grown man retarded...I'd take a deep breath, everyday felt like my last...I got to the point, I told GOD to kiss my ass.... It was cancer of the lungs...momma buckled at the knees...the rumor was a tumor, but I saw it skeptically...papi flew the coop like an independent pidgeon..looking back at the event, it's all a bunch of Bad Religion... severed all ties and found the truth where it lies...wrapped immaculately in a brilliant disguise...and then my mother died and sent her world into the grave. THE SECOND STEP OF COPING: EVERYONE WANTS TO TRADE. "BRING BACK THE DEAD, TAKE ME AND ME INSTEAD!" Aunt Millie saw the body and bashed in it's fucking head...my family was struck, I escaped to my insanity...jerked off to picture books of black girls who looked like "Vanity"... I found them on the street with some pages stuck together....one mans trash became a young boys treasure.... ****************************** I began to get arrested, handcuffed and fingerprinted... "Barbeque Black" the walls were all tinted... graffitti was crime, but it helped to ease my mind... releasing doctorines for the survival of mankind... for whom the bell tolls, looked like my time was up...my sisters long finger telling me to pack it up... I was homeless for a while, but never made the milk carton...a definite relief from mommy's basement apartment... stabbed a lot of backs and cut throats for survival...the man of mystery, everyday a different title... now it's all a blur, all the madness that occured...and I'm speaking through a glass, words absurd and slurred... 16 years of age, I got my first place of residence...176th. in the basement of a tenement...started doing acid, awarded "life of the party"...bobbed my head to techno versions of Slick Rick's "Ladi-Dadi" everynight my gift was a drunken Hippie-Chick...we'd kiss as the cocaine would begin to numb my dick...slipped it in slow to scores of nameless jezebels...thinking with my stick and damaging my brain cells... "Happy ever after..." was the motto that I favored...now everything has changed, but the memory is savored...lived my life quick, the only way to survive...doing what I had to do just to stay alive... I'M NOT A FUCKING JOKE, I JUST CHOOSE TO WALK QUIET...TOUCH MY DARKSIDE AND PREPARE FOR THE RIOT...
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