Skeptic Records Is A Unofficial Independent UK Record Label. Always Lookin For Dope New Emcees And Producers To Work With.
Skeptic Records Is An Unofficial Independent Label Based In The UK.
With A Mix Of Young Multi-Talented Emcees And Producers Skeptic Brings A Range Of Sounds, And Hopes To Bring A Fresh Outlook On Hip-Hop From The UK.
Watch Out For New Downloads...
Skeptic Is Always Lookin For New Producers And Emcees To Work With, Or To Run Under The Skeptic Name So Jus Drop Your Name Or Email, And Somewhere We Can Hear Your Shit On Our Message Board.
Current Emcees/Producers:
Critical - Emcee/Producer
Crit Is An Emcee And Producer From Sheffield, UK. He Is Currently Dropping Some Funky Beats That He Hopes Wont Sit On His Harddrive For 5 Years Like Many Of The Others. Maybe He'll Release Something Substantial One Day, But That Day Is Currently Elusive.
Raze - Emcee/Producer
Raze Is An Emcee From Sheffield, UK. Raze Has Quickly Developed From Jottin Rhymes In The Back Of Maths Class, To Becoming A Top-Class Unique Lyricist, With A Vast Array Of Clever Lines And Sick Rhymes, Its No Wonder This Guys "Rugged Like An Orphans Hat". He Has Three EP's On The Music Page, The Latest "Lazy Science EP" From April 2006, "Work EP" From September 2005 And The Old One From October 2003, Along With Plenty Of Other Tracks.
Criminal - Emcee
Crim Is A Young Talented Emcee From Birmingham, UK. Crim Brings Another Element To Skeptic, Along With His Dope Rhymes, He Brings A New Outlook To UK Hip-Hop. Watch out For Crims EP, Which Is In Development Now.
Diz - Emcee
Diz Is An Emcee For Birmingham, UK. Although Diz Has Done Less Emceeing And Writing Than The Others, He Still Has A Fresh Style And Is Always Capable Of Spittin Dope Lyrics. Hopefully He Will Make Time In His "Busy" Schedule To Drop A Few Joints, So Look Out For Them.
(Razes Interpretation, lol:
Diz Hasnt Done Shit For 3 Years. Hes Capable Of Good Shit But Hes Too Fuckin Lazy And Never Does Owt, The Stupid Idiot. Check Out The Other Emcees Material Here)
All The Artists On Skeptic Records Would Def Sign A Contract, As Long As They Could Have Freedom To Do What They Wanted.
So If You Major Or Minor Labels (Or Anyone) Wanna Contact Us, Email Us At: skepticrecordsuk@hotmail.com
Peace.
Lyrics
now every time I close my eyes I don't see darkness,
I see the canvas of a fan-less troubled artist,
and despite the fact he tries to wrap his heart with,
shiny fabric carpet, the picture on the canvas is of darkness,
it's darkness, filtered out all the colour traces,
covered in black the rainbows suffocated,
smothered and wrapped in clouds that are Mother Nature's anger,
I feel hunger my stomachs aching,
I'm contemplating, cards that she gave us,
my moods are a waste of the fucking useless paint brush,
I'm through with the paint so I pack it back,
I'm happy rapping but I don’t do many happy raps
as a matter of fact since I've had this cataract,
I gotta lose it faster than a cracker snaps,
you see it's abstract and it's symbolizing,
you just can't see it clearly cause it's in disguises,
blink every 5 seconds for the window wipers,
and lose trace of raze as I begin to write this,
the canvas is inside of my eyelids,
and it grows in development as I begin to write this,
now every time I close my eyes I don't see darkness,
I see the canvas of a fan-less troubled artist,
and despite the fact he tries to wrap his heart with,
shiny fabric carpet, the picture on the canvas is of darkness,
I move onto the new layer,
but it's still black and white and it looks like a newspaper,
but you can't read the shit cause the paper's torn,
I gave my all, straining to paint the wall,
and metaphors are hidden in my train of thought,
but it clashes and it crashes off rail of course,
an amazing force, a new trail is born,
new words for the journey, say no more,
incredible forces trying to scar me,
expressional drawings in one heart beat,
I listen to my heart speak,
and start each day with a promise that my novice arms can't reach,
my confidence gets a kicking,
the compliments that you're giving leaves my paint brush dripping,
people say I'm sick or am I just a hypochondriac?
I'll never reach my dreams like a fucking insomniac,
now every time I close my eyes I don't see darkness,
I see the canvas of a fan-less troubled artist,
and despite the fact he tries to wrap his heart with,
shiny fabric carpet, the picture on the canvas is of darkness,
now picture the nights sky,
the city landscape contrasting the bright light, from the moon,
and assuming your eyesight, isn't screwed,
and you move when you stride by, dance in life’s tide,
It'll show you what art is,
It's like the scar of a carved wrist is on the paper where the mark is,
..fuck biros or parkers,
I write using blood, sweat and tears, in my cartridge,
I start with a dabble of the rain,
I sense the footsteps of the patters on my face,
the pattern has now changed and they're daggers and they're blades,
and the frightening lightening is rattling my cage,
I'm blocked by the bastard fiend,
I'm fast asleep, dreaming of liquid plasticine
I resist to splash the scene,
so I leave it all black for my very own masterpiece
