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Lights Out Paris

by Sims

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about

Whether he’s slinging a hammer on a third story rooftop or gripping a microphone onstage at a packed club, Sims takes his work seriously. His music is imbued with the DIY ethics and workingman philosophy as his daytime trade as a carpenter. He’s spent years working on his craft, and finally the fruit of his labor—Lights Out Paris—is out in the world. This is the house that Sims built. BAM!!!

Sims has built a rep for furious live shows; each crowd seems to be a little bigger than the last. But as the audience grows, the energy and sense of showmanship displayed onstage remains constant. Sims’ performances are always dynamic and uniquely personal affairs, winning crowds from coast to coast. BAM!!!! Lights Out Paris finds Sims channelling all of that live energy into a studio setting,
and BAM does it work.

The album is a sprawling, ambitious effort, backed by dark, propulsive production. Sims raps with purpose and finesse about hip hop culture, crew love, and the slow-motion train wreck of American politics. From “15 Blocks”: Washed ashore with bullet holes in our civilian clothes/ and I still ain't got it right/ so I walk some more/ and bid this burning city a good night.

4.5 stars
“As if you needed another reason to lend an ear to Minneapolis hip hop.”
-URB Magazine

Top Ten Local Albums of 2005.
“Not just another topical rapper, Sims shows a teeth-baring fierceness and tongue-tying lyrical talent on his solo debut.”
–Minneapolis Star Tribune

credits

released 28 June 2005

Executive Produced by MK Larada
Sexecutive Producer: P.O.S.
Engineered and Mixed by Joe Mabbott at The Hideaway
Interludes mixed by Turbo Nemesis
Mastered by Dave Gardener at Magneto Mastering
Additional production all over by MK Larada
Toki Wright appears courtesy of The C.O.R.E./Amplified Life
Brandon appears courtesy of Big Quarters
Crescent Moon appears courtesy of Kill The Vultures
Benzilla appears courtesy of FamFeud
Everyone else appears courtesy of Doomtree Records
Published by Sims Is A Business (BMI)

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about

Sims Minneapolis, Minnesota

Restless and passionate but with an unflinching realism at his core, Sims has seen enough of life to know there are no easy answers. His second full-length release, Bad Time Zoo, out now on Doomtree Records, reflects this rapper’s ongoing quest for solid understanding in a society on the brink of dystopia. ... more

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Track Name: So Far So Good
The whole world’s turning now just for you
the world’s burning out now just for you
just for you
you’ve got the world on a string now, don’t you?
it moves to the speed of your hands
command it at the snap of your digits
you can spin it how you want to spin it
I’m just here to visit, just passing through
Maybe kick a few notes
but I’ve been tone deaf since my girl left
and it shows, building a fire
looking for footprints in the snow
tap-dancing the land mines
angels, lead letters, and dead valentines
the red Jettas, the vendettas, and tapped landlines
and I’m on standby
And maybe it’s the greatest maladaptation of our time
overworked and underpaid the way we waste our minds
barely staying afloat in the exponential growth
so we try to ex the stencil and sketch our own
but still feel the hands that are wrapped around our throats
we stumble home fumbling for control of the debris
but it’s hard to hold the weight
so we wear poker faces and keep switchblades up our sleeves
we are boxers fighting off the frost
choking on pride, exhausted and lost
now we survive for what it’s worth
finding our way with the filament burnt
lights out
We don’t have time for passion anymore
it’s metal poses and plastic petaled roses
we don’t have time
Track Name: Market Made Murder (feat. Toki Wright and Mike Mictlan)
Market made murder, martyr my merger
well I sell a fantastic hell in hand basket
margin commercial merking the mass persons
television terror to broadband effect

(Sims)
War every time I turn on the television
we’re born then advertised then beat into submission
still more billboards in the Minneapple so
slower we choke cause they lowered the blows
and there’s still nowhere to go
and we know by the burning in our throats
by our furniture and clothes
and by the burdens that we cope with
and a sermon that we know for certain is nonsense, not God’s steps
held hostage, I wake to daily bomb threats
I don’t consider that progress
evolution to revolution but losing head in fed illusions
so instead my fists are moving
bob and weave knocking down monopolies
now how come I cannot believe in copping Karl Kani’s and Prada jeans?
well I don’t and I won’t
so I throw the remote at the hegemony box
while you drool and jerk off to celebrity spots
who knew it was you that was the empty mascot?
stable static status
it’s sheer madness the fear tactics they practice
keep you passive and buying what’s wrapped inside that clear plastic
that home gas mask kit
that old half mast shit
a rose attacked with that cold laugh track bit
close my casket, bury me in the worthless
market made murder while we burn on the surface

(Toki Wright)
Market made up of murderous turbulent times
when the country increase the deficit what do you find?
you start a war and the third world already won
I thought the earth was the third world close to the sun
you see now some have their extinction agenda for sums
where they make you think you’re defenseless and working for crumbs
but now who works the fields? the people
who bakes the bread? the people
but in the end who gets to eat it?
the masters of evil deception
creators of weapons of mass
mass destruction, horror, bad things, terror
sometimes the enemy is the man in the
I can see clearer now the rain is gone
but some have gone about it all wrong
putting faith in a system corrupted
then have expectations of justice, no you can’t trust it
got to grind the gears til the machine is busted and torn
got to do more than just talk and perform
work on what’s mine, and what’s yours, and what’s ours
and here’s a message to those in charge
the bigger you are the harder you fall

(Mike Mictlan)
It’s the making of a man, mammon mammal
that managed famine of a mass metro retro-pop cultureless mass
Anti-Christian crystal clear altered alien acts
from Activision glistens Episcopalian facts
it’s its own religion in fact
aimless atheist alias aching my atrium tracks
cuz God damned I’m a man made of flesh and organics
three-sixty degrees plus five points around my planet
do the math, measure the magnitude of my magnets
circumference of my substance steady solar solstice stagnant
so most nights I post in an insomnia tossing
while ghosts swell in my shell and dwell for a haunting
nightmares turn reoccurring journeys burning subconscious
flatline and capsize in a mental motion nauseous
cautious cuz that paranoia preoccupies precaution
I grew too fond of all the toxins exhausting me constant
deep inside, there are no monsters
or flying saucers carrying martians into my concepts
there’s only the loneliness of martyrs
growing a hole in my head, escaping the ceremonial carcass
the market made a murder, but murder didn’t make the market
let your life shine if you can penetrate through the darkness
the target is to keep surviving inside of apartments
commercialize my worth to fit me inside of their margins
Track Name: 15 Blocks
I walked 15 blocks just to phrase one correctly
a rolling example of what the day spun directly
tied tongue reflecting while horizon digesting
trying to shake it off, if I could shake it off
Death meets my breath in a wide-mouthed yawn
while the Pres. meets the press on the White House lawn
I spend my days depressed
my nights trying to shake it off
and they say we’re lost
and I say you’re right
my generation is the seed to Vietnam
and never believed in better bombs
inevitably imbedded in beats
to better the bleed he said it all wrong
can I get it all calm?
give a call to my mom
from the prison I’m in or call it a loss
cause is all lost
your mind’s behind bars
and your heart’s all in gauze,
fuck it, I’m ready to walk
this is my vida with my feet bleeding through my sneakers
soul leaking through the speaker
easy when you see the young gun, heat seeker
lungs stung with black tar, never act harder than I am
I never play or pretend
I’m just a man surviving in the modern ways to contend
so turn the fader to 10 and let the banging begin
seeds of the 80’s party daily
just to shake off effects
brought to our necks by Reagan and friends
at night I say my amens
pray for a brighter then a 9 to 5 to lifer sentence
migrants picking peppers paying piper penance
even I could rise to menace
or stoop to greatness
either way my dues are paid in full
some choose to play the wolf
some play the sheep and cry
I choose, til the day I die
Live-wire march to the tap of the typewriter
nine ciphers looking for life in my head
I’m tired of the voices, never had a choice to rest
gotta press, feet gotta tread
but I wish I would have never heard the news
and now I know what dude really said
confusing mess
that shit is fresh but still inside the fear’s consuming
trying to put the foot down
to stop this sphere from moving
so I can catch up, fuck it
I bloom another match up
to another cig I swore would be my last one
then chain one off of that
and spit the hack up on the deck
just to put exactly where I laid a step
my stressed breath’s getting shallower with every pull
and in effect death, feeling restless for the...
but in it’s essence it wrecks me
like two speeding cars one way intersecting
and I’m left guessing which one’s gonna make it out
well I got pins in my frame so this time I’m breaking out
so for now I stroll alone on a broken globe
smoking bones as a ghost among the walking comatose
expression as dead as a president’s slogan //
I need a medic, a sedative to set in
and a better moment than now
lost crow, lost soul found on the branch of the Doomtree
and if the day does to you what the day does to me
throw your fucking hands up and thank God for Lazerbeak
thank God for Doomtree
Washed ashore with bullet holes
in our civilian clothes
well I still ain’t got it right
so I’ll walk some more
and bid this burning city a good night //
Track Name: Tape Deck
Welcome to the tired generation of pliered patience
we’re the tossed pennies, the Reaganomical waste kids
but look at me, broken link off every socialites token blink
thinking I’m going to change shit
I don’t want your nomination
my name is Sims, freedom fighter writer trapped in cat’s cradle
Doomtree that’s the label
so hang from your halo, but I spit mud on your Dockers
not trying to graduate to a Craftmatic adjustable office
turn your brain waves on and off like water faucets
I’m astonished stomping through the modern process
so I rally around stone throwers
my bones colder than icebergs
titanic havoc wrecking shop with Christ slurs
twice burned for advice learned before I met hesitation
open visitation for our dead generation
so wake the fuck up, I’m running out of patience
wake the fuck up, you’re sleep walking
wake the fuck up, man, you’re missing this
We were born agitated seeds but grew into apathy
half of me wishes out of this modern catastrophe
but I’ve got my nine millimeter mouth to blasphemy
twelve steps to being a better self but the ladder collapsed on me
casually humanity becomes a casualty of
graphic mastery, a mental masterpiece
but the pieces spit out my mouth like faulty orthodontics
unorthodox phonics and chronic smoke choke on autopilot
a fleet of Palm Pilots disperse from universities
what’s worse meaning isn’t surfacing, time to face
how can y’all take the days straight without a purpose to chase?
there’s more to life than grades, work, then graves
my life, my life’s a fucking mess
Next year I might be 25 light beams ahead of myself
might be 25 cents richer depending on my shelf life
ain’t what it seems but I’ve got one to bleed
so save up a fuck for the agitated seeds
smashing piggy bank dreams
saturated breed, soaked in fat and granite
planted on this planet next to the blaze that we didn’t raise
we saw the flames and fanned it
now I’m annexed to vexed manic panic status, I got next
ante up your war machine mechanics and penchant checks
they’re out their right mind
I threw a left cause just to stop the motive
duly noted as I throw my clear thoughts in their gearbox
it’s like there’s one typewriter and a million fucking Xerox
so save those peer props about beer gogs and gear rocked
cause you got steered lost
I crank the mixtape and wait for the break
just to drown out in a city of lakes
I don’t wanna be a part of your workforce
I don’t wanna be a part of you problem
I don’t wanna be a part of your workforce
so I guess I’ll be that thorn in your side
Track Name: So It Goes
(Produced by Lazerbeak) (Bass by Sean McPherson)
It wasn’t enough, it just wasn’t enough
We made eyes just to disconnect lives
and I just want her to lie with me tonight
lie to me tonight and say it’s going to be alright
we used to sleep like a braid
now the both of us are tugging at a thread
we hoping it don’t break
painstaking to stay but we both know the fray
caught at a funeral, wondering where June went
I was a student of you in your moonlit movement
Bed sheets used to croon the sweetest music
now it’s usually bruises
a routine that’s set in sediment, argument
then sex and settlement
and nothing hurts worse than falling out of it
you try to cover up but you know it’s counterfeit
I tried to cover up
Rust encrusted heron must give up the sparrow
trust I’m stuck with wearing this arrow in my lung
a hook in my gut leaking marrow in the dust
looking for my steel tipped dove
and that’s how the real lose love
I’m on the brink just waiting for a shove
and when it comes I’ll shrug
and spread my arms in a brand new suit
while the birds shoot a 21 gun salute
She drew me bloody, ruined me monthly
June she starts to hug me
September says she loves me
December’s sky was ugly
May Day she say she’s leaving
after we made it through the rainy season
June she’s back with two reasons
why I should let her back
bed the ax, Medusa’s trying to take the scepter back
I can’t accept her after that
after a winter spent in discontent for this lament
and when she left I felt free
with a piece of me missing
easy to fall in but unseasonably frost bitten
but who am I kidding? It’s not meant for me
I’m too selfish with mine and terrible at timing
climbing up mountains
doubting if I’ll ever find that level ground
they says it’s better when the love is lost than never found
caught in a storm cloud, honestly worn out
first we fight then you storm out
It wasn’t enough, it just wasn’t enough //
I gave time but it wasn’t enough
my heart and my spine, it wasn’t enough
my bark, my roots, my leaves, my tree, it wasn’t enough
and so it goes, the v-e is out of place with the l-o
and now I run around town with a busted up mouth
busted up jaw, and some busted up ribs
a cut from a saw, something’s got to give
must be the way I live, must be just me
rusty old tree in the center of the cemetery
fighting off teeth
and she wonders why I get no sleep
and she wonders why the willows weep
I remember all that pillow speak
now every night I drink myself to finding new shelter
cause everyday is so cold, but you know how that goes
and so it goes
Track Name: May 1st
I mean I’m the means to my own ends
ending at the fact that I’m waiting for
a straw to crack my already bending back
and then
I snap
now where the fuck Sims is at?
my limbs are cracked, forced to play the wolf
chewing the cuff put glue in the cuts and move on
giving a shrug to nuance
given the way I’m living is similar to a prison
inside I’m a blizzard outside is the image put on to survive the sight
I’m torn up inside tonight
trying to find what’s right, trying to blind what’s wrong
trying to find some light, so I glide on songs
but the design ain’t right and the siren’s on
so I’m out running again
ducking the fucking gun in my head
somedays
I can’t face myself, afraid my face might melt
and it’ll taste like hell, I can’t handle it
dismantling, the stitches are falling out
this is Andrew Sims’ sorry self flipping the fuck out
and I can’t go back to back sleep
Well I’m up and I’m stuck running amuck in a rut
and
I can’t go back to sleep
in ’82 I mainly knew that something wasn’t right
but baby grew and found a crew that bruises tons of mics
I’m under pressure, bottle that up
he makes a record I gotta follow that up?
Follow that? Lace some new kicks and lay some new footprints
afraid I might buckle, bust my knuckles trying to break through bricks
so I build a wall around myself so I don’t have to face that shit
or taste the failing, chase the flailing loose ends
now where are the saline solutions?
escapee homosapien who found his haven in bruises
definitely deafened by the daily deprecate
but it ain’t self hate, I just never walk on eggshell crates
some days it’s plain it’s just time to face, reevaluate
like I wonder if this record’s gonna get to
then I rethink, I guess I don’t give a fuck
wait, wait, yeah I do
I guess we all just want to be loved
I ain’t proud of that fact but I ain’t no angel
I’m just an honest man trying to buy Mom and Dad the promised land
I’m just an honest man trying to buy Mom and Dad what I can
If I was cut by the groove what the fuck would that prove?
now should I open up and show my wounds to you? //
or should I make some songs that make the room say “Doomtree”
this is the maze that I maneuver through
see I could break them through the roof and convince to you that it’s ablaze
but would it make a fucking difference in these apathetic days?
I’m more invested in bad credit, breaks and nervous rhymes
this one’s for the cats who caught the itch on the inside
this one’s for the masterpiece bathed in turpentine
half my time is stupid rhymes, buying dimes, and bleeding eyes
the other twelve is spent waiting for my soul on a shelf
and I know I’m going to hell //
Track Name: Barnum & Bailey's
Set em up high so I can let you all down
let em uprise when it all hits the ground
Minnesota nice kid flipped it all around
eyes felt the pressure as the clock unwound
and back to back to let down
but I’ve been doing this for too long
so I better make a new song then move on
but it’s hard hitting notes with this noose on
and you hope that I choke but I won’t
I keep breathing, climbing a rope and keep reaching
and each season I feel a little more panic
like somebody lit a little old match
under the seed of the tree of the dreams that I planted
granted, not everyone that walks atop the granite
can chop an awkward octave into madness
or paint a proper picture with some blood on the canvas
and everybody running the gamut
from CA to Minneapolis, it’s all the same static
and we know and we grow, we’re going to be a disappointment
so get your joints lit and let it all turn to ash
world turning to the tune of crash landers
watching balls of clay turn into a pool of mud
trying to stay afloat in today’s latest flood
please take me back to the way that it was
10/19/82 and I’m done
Track Name: Key Grip (Fax)
Another night in the straightaway
got a couple more relationships to complicate
eyes strained at a world in the rearview
pulling my weight, wait, no brakes near you
caught in the modern robotic
packing my bags and I’m out like the modern man
getting ready for the long season
I guess I’m in this for all the wrong reasons
from the Triple Rock to Thailand
until you take me home I’m on the bill night after night
one more stitch to close the hole
this is the swagger of a ghost
might have to light a bag of herb
and a shot of Jäger to see it all backwards
I live life lit to see my match burnt
distract from the fact that this dagger in my back hurts
bad bones in a cold snap
sand through the glass
and I stand with that
I’ve got a shelf of half-read books
I’m better at reading looks
it took a year and half to make these minutes
for every second of breath in it there’s a piece of me left in it
changing lanes, awake at 8:30
someway today my legs are less sturdy
I prayed for rain, it came and left early
I should’ve stayed but change is just a wave in the drain
I’m young and broke
I’m running old laps around the same oak
trying to close gaps
waiting for a thunder clap in the same clothes
trap doors and choked words arrested in my head
I woke up to get slept on, should’ve slept in instead
pleasure in the pain there ain’t no rest for the dead
I’m at the point of no turning around now
the fire’s in your eyes and you’re burning me down
gun it down, let it die, let it die, hang it dry
blood coming out, time is running out
I take time, criticize every rap
but in a critic’s eyes I’m just sitting by riding on a back
and that’s that, tighten up the noose then we’ll see who’s puling slack
you pull the wool, I pull it back
I’m embarrassed, a twisted character carried the weight
backtrack to only backpacks and paint
and no one wanted to know me
now that I rap all these girls that walked on past want to hold me
how fucked up is that, it’s a mixed up twist of fate
rotating cast, none of these actors have got my back in this play
it’s a masquerade, I don’t know if you like me for me or for that last track I made
maybe neither like Ally Mac well I got no time for you either
was lost but found my path so I strapped up my sneakers
and never looked behind, meddling drum peddling
nervous mind settled in rhyme
and a heart turned away but that’s a sign of the times
Track Name: Frontline (feat Crescent Moon)
Left, right, march to your gravesite
they’ve got them ready on the frontline
every man, woman, and child for miles single file
take a number and they’ll call you when it comes time
the air feels thick, not as thick as
the black smoke blocking out the sunshine
speak up boy they can’t hear your voice
and I never had a choice when
they hung mine

(Crescent Moon)
you put up your pride, they burn, gonna burn it down
you’re speaking your mind, they turn, gonna turn it down
they feed you their lies, you worms better learn it now //
live by it, learn to smile, big riots burn awhile
thank you for saving us savages
Godless primates that never had a prayer
bottom of the food chain around where the maggots is
stripping antagonist layer by layer by layer
now do we divide or do we divide?
you don’t believe in evolution or improving with time
now you’re standing there talking about who’s truly divine
I know right from wrong-doing where as you need a sign from the sky
back, back to where you all came
give me every brother back lynched in your god’s name //
your lord’s gold plated on a chain
mine’s hanging from a tree by his neck in the rain
I got blood that walked a trail of tears
walked a trail of tears, survived and kept coming
how am I supposed to feel about honoring my country
when I’m looking at their killer every time I see a twenty?
the fuck is you talking about, you’re so patriotic?
I ain’t fighting in a war I don’t believe dying for
hide behind that sticker on your bumper
you ain’t sending folded-up flags back home to their mothers
you ain’t overseas fighting, dying with the others
you would rather send your neighbor’s niece’s cousin’s nephew’s little brother
hiding in your mansion in the suburbs
like your god wouldn’t judge you sleeping under silk covers
we’re about to reach Vietnam numbers
while your president leads you in prayer for his blunders
we’re about to reach Vietnam numbers
why don’t you go ahead and say me a prayer while you’re under

(Sims)
I believe in the spirit and the feathered serpent
but never in the curtain words sewn by your sermon
or the service of your churches
tighten up the wire turning citizens to servants
it’s the constant chaotic fear of bin Laden
either him or it’s Saddam, good god we hit bottom
but here comes your cowboy and he’s a hero, he promise
waving crosses and pistols and fistfuls of profits
but there’s blood on your hands
and blood in your pockets
blood fills your goblets
patriotic thugs licking scuds from their office with no conscious
I hope you choke on your own broken soul
overdose, your god’s a remote
I know you’re using her for social control
abusing human rights because your views confused a birthright
and you want me to march left, right, left
death toll, you’ll reap what your “said so” sews
no, won’t march for your CEO’s
I roll with a murder of crows flying over the bones
over the wreckage and so we go
why would I waste a mile in your crooked footsteps
we don’t see eye to eye, you see me as that prodigal son
but I see I got nowhere to move and nowhere to run
but that’s the way you got power from day one
from the slaves that you captured
sell them into hell and tell them to wait for the rapture
to the
daily slaves you manufacture
master, pastor, same hegemony
subtle demise makes a legitimate plea
Jesus please save me from the Jesus freaks
there’s vultures in the skies and there’s soldiers overseas
Christians on a mission with missiles positioned and ready to launch
tell somebody’s ghost it better get ready to haunt //
God loves America the most because it gives him what he wants
Track Name: Dreamsleep (feat Cecil Otter)
Break the wiring harness, stop the cameras
snakes are firing arms and block the answers
clouded plots blow spots with robot newscasters
after two masters shoot whispers through roof rafters
Pass it on to the next master gone street merchant
next person to purchase a version of these freak’s words
and playtime might make time stand still
saluting riots and looting, it’s a primetime kill
Take me back to the way it used to be
usually move my feet, now I stand still
while your will chooses defeat
chew some pills so you can sleep
only to wake to 9 to 5 to life and can’t escape your fate, right?
Turn on your break lights and turn left wing
let’s sing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”
and carry it to the burial ground around the corner
warm your order forms born from your shorter thorns
torn from your garden
Choose your corporate credit card
while the senate scars the tenants
lieutenants mar the menace peasants
while the medic yawns and turns his head in pillow dreams
20,00 leagues deep in American Dream sleep soliloquies
killing me with free speech
Impediment residents don’t know a goddamn thing
about the irrelevant tenements
I’m not dancing
to the ranting and raving
paving paths past the mating season
leaving dreamers breeding in the land of the lost
You’re dreaming
when the saints go marching in I’ll market them to demons
Can you pull this cannibalist out of the animal’s fist
with a Hannibalistic wit, you’ll fit me in your schedule
hidden in your incredible edible head full of skull snaps
that’s that for the dull raps
And I see you knocking back cheap bourbon
you’re fucking knees hurting and you can’t be a complete person
cause that sheet’s certain to make a stereotype
Paper Tiger keeps the stereo tight, I make the burial rights
I was buried alive riding merry-go-rounds around the burial grounds
lounging in the fucking lap of luxury
like ooh, barracuda
I could swear that you were in the school, who bears the fruit of their labor
Fuck that pay dirt, got me reaching for the razor
this one’s for the racist that mocks the caged bird
the one that gives my dumb skull crumbs for a day’s work
that’s why I write a song about fire bombs, fuck Viacom
Sing me a song that’s long and meaningful
pull me into your premise baby make me want it bad news
sad moves, truth is a monsoon
dressed up in costumes on Fox News
let me mock you to sleep sleepy headbanger
got to wait your turn to earn your turn through the turnstile
schemes form four peace wars with taskforce
for more resources for gas whores
You’re dreaming
Track Name: Osmosis
Dear Pop, the fear stopped me from saying this before
but I’m
grown up, so I’m going to lay it on the floor
it’s time to own up, you’re pumping your liver with liquor
I shiver, you’re getting sicker
swallowing liquid slivers, drowning in whiskey rivers
for ten years
I let it fly with wings clipped, flight risk
can’t live to watch you die like this
and I remember when I was a kid looking for my dad but all day’s busy
7 pm hits then the whiskey on your breath spun a small boy dizzy
got the fam saying, “Who is he?”
then the hourglass cracked, matched with that sour mash Jack
how is that trap, Dad?
now you’re on your last lap trying to tap dance between fact and a flask
I remember when we packed in that van down to Florida
Mom said you was a goner, call the coroner
she said you loved that whore more than her
and I sat stirred like what the fuck is lady luck proving?
you moved in with that 86 proof
actually mix in the solution
the battery of my disillusion
and I know this is useless, so be it with the rest
but I had to get it off of my head and out of my chest
And
I’m watching you washing it down
watching you drown
lost in the now, lost in the then
trying to find the zen with a frost-bitten frown
Every night you left your son behind the Earth
but instead of the hurt I learned how the moon works
got wise, nowadays I stop by
see the same eyes rolled back in your eyelids
passed out, man down
I’m a siren screaming silent in this glass house
I didn’t want to make this sound cause I’m that proud
but I’m trying to be a man
plus trying to find my dad some land to land
he’s drowning in Jack Dan quicksand
doing all he can to keep the fam together plus stand the weather
Dad, I understand the pressure
trying to pay the bills plus kill life’s ills
but out of that fracture none of that mattered //
we needed a role model
not a robot who holds bottles just to chase the day
I hate to see you waste away
your face decays and fades to grey
But damn, Dad, you’re the greatest man I know when you’re sober
but I watch you transform into a king cobra
once that drink soaks up in your blood
and I’m proud to be your son
but I can’t
act passive, can’t stand back or laugh at it
the sad fact is we’re
all addicts
you’ve got one wife who’s heart’s broken
two sons
pot smoking
one daughter out roaming
four people that knew
you before you got loaded
it might be a lost notion but it’s time to stop soaking
you’ve got a bottle of Jack and a bleeding hand
it’s osmosis to a decent man
you used to read it, Dad, Hop on Pop //
now you’re lost on scotch
“sad dad, bad, had”
my last gasp and I’m through with it
I just wish that you could quit
It’s a bad taste
and I’m watching you washing it down
watching you drown
lost in the now, lost in the then
trying to find a zen with a frost bitten frown
Track Name: No Homeowners (feat Cecil Otter, Dessa, Mike Mictlan and P.O.S.)
Doomtree, time to let it be known
from the bottom of the bottle to the top of the throne

(Cecil Otter)
I hear ooh’s and ahh’s when
I jump off my garage
people treat me like I’m dying for a cause
cuz I believe in God, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny
I hang out with Lady Luck and I feed her when her beaver’s hungry
don’t need your money, don’t need your company
do need that filthy middle finger out my cup of tea
if it takes one to bleed and two to make the bleeding stop
I’d rather leave a trail of blood than let you make the bleeding stop
(Dessa)
This is synchronized sinking a single sided die, a tire farm
sick of this sickness, I want a signal, a symbol, a sign
sinners are seeking asylum, senators set to deny them
sun at the center is dimming, spinning in silence
synapses sing with science sitting inside us
citizens’ sinuses ring with sirens whose singing is violence
it goes thanks T.S., but the world ends like this
not a bang, not whimper, but a sibilant hiss

(Mike Mictlan)
Put us up, megablast a classic burner
idolize the insignia minnie millenniums idiot savant
avant off guard, not scarred
self-inflicted shots, stars, and locked bars
drop arms, I got the face of Mars
harness the strength, harvest my angst, chop spars
let it out, say it loud, don’t bitch out
what time would be better than now?
Doomtree, watch your mouth

(P.O.S)
I put the words to pages, shed the weight of the day
but all work and no play makes jackknife a dull blade
so I stay sharp and cut the darkness with a chisel tip
a crew of kids who sizzle sets and fizzle out your best attempts
Doomtree, we opened up but let the spot blown
with call and response, you followed up but caught a dial tone
no nothing flashy, hypnosis, or backward masking shit
simply raw shit y’all get lost in it
dope? who you asking kid?

(Sims)
18 months ago before the snow
before Sims was in the breeze
distorted morbid kid pent up and bent on my disease
with a butterfly knife lining my gut
but Stef and Otter saved my life
pulled me up and gave me stripes
recovering loather now loving every moment
telling opponents move over, we own it
I build from ashes when I write rhymes
and I’m proud to represent it, it’s my lifeline //
(Produced by Lazerbeak)