1. |
Intro
00:34
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(Narrator)
There's an old story,
the way the Apaches tell it-
a man was riding in the desert
and he come across a vulture...
the kind they call "Turkey Buzzard",
sitting on a rock...
"Hey!" the man says,
"How come you old turkey buzzard sitting here-
I saw you flying over that way
and I didn't wanna meet up with you,
so I turned around
and I come this way."
Old turkey buzzard says,
"That's funny-
I was only passing through that town.
I was really coming over here
to wait for you!"
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2. |
Eternal Reflection
01:08
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Broken-heart Brown-
can't remember what from,
hollow-chest tunes
devoid of emotion;
Cold Crush sound-
boomin' for your heart though,
sponsored by my dick
and a thick cloud of blunt smoke;
if you get down
we can cut cut class, miss
I'll take you to the crib
where I puff and cut classics;
plotting on the crown
'cause the kingdom's mishandled...
(all night, all night, all night)
Just me and the empire,
hellfire and brimstone,
eyes in the palms,
laugh tracks on the sitcoms;
I dick chicks
who don't rock apparel,
fall in love with guns,
kiss the end of my barrel,
burn blunts,
steady avoid scandal,
closet-vandal-
tagging up the bathroom;
and under pressure she's tough-
knowing when to stay and fight
or leave and get up...
Eternal reflection,
meet your death in-
still pounding in your afterlife
all night, all night, all night
(x2)
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3. |
Chrysanthemums
01:51
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One bare,
one in an Air Max,
fan-fare
as they welcome back
the champ-
he leans back
and laughs,
without a damn care,
smoking on Sagada
like its some Jack Herer;
Aw yeah!
As smoke spirals in the air,
with this flowery language-
chrys-an-the-mums,
petals for the ugh I adore,
might fool me once
but never no more...
And I'm just the sun-
burning for this third world,
ducking from the moon,
so I can spend longer,
guilty 'cause of the fondness
that I feel inside
and the twinkle in my eye
is when her and I collide,
on doomsday, apocalypse,
meet you at Meguido-
end of world shhh,
word to Garbriel,
keep the trumpet humming,
Gog and Magog
hand in hand, running;
let me take you on a journey
through Quezon City,
where P-E crawls
amongst the ugly, the pretty;
check my sobriety,
keeping my balance,
flying palette passing
now I'm sipping on a chalice;
Aw shit!
As I exhale the hit,
flowery language,
chrys-an-the-mums,
petals for the ugh I adore,
might fool me once,
but never no more...
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4. |
Sabaw
01:42
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Then something fell-
my feelings poured like a béchamel,
it was a roux, she made a stew,
out of how I felt;
I'm so sabaw around you-
it's trouble,
trying to come across
as more than just gumbo,
but when I open up my mouth
it's just chowder,
mumbling sometimes-
I just need to speak louder,
get to the marrow of the matter
like Nilaga,
but you done got up!
And there's something 'bout ramen,
that makes me feel alone,
cooped up in a dorm room,
miles away from home;
layover in Narita, I was eating udon,
it'd be nice in sukiyaki
but they use sotanghon,
I poured on, not warm,
she's gazpacho,
if only I was conio,
entitled, and macho-
then I'd be porridge,
nourishment for Goldilocks,
but you don't hear me though.
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5. |
Microphone Cheque
02:03
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Concoct a rhyme,
at the same, strip a duchess-
fill her up,
proceed to get blunted,
and take you back
to the days of, you know,
when we used to sneak L's
right under mama's nose,
call it that locked door,
fist full of incense,
fuck the world style,
give a fuck who I impress,
while other emcees feign sickness
PE infect this,
and have 'em insecure,
worried about fitness;
you should've studied your arts,
learn to spit smart,
and put your heart in it,
instead you got your sight
set on Asgard,
where I'm God-body
cold rock a party!
Spitting dialect uh,
Catching wreck uh,
one, two, microphone check
(x2)
And bit Big like Jay did,
only giving up props
to the greatest!
"They built me to be filthy
on some I do or die shit"
For real!
And I can't deal with you bums-
I'm out here putting work
when I earn I get crumbs,
but mama taught me properly
so I use it for my batter
and plus I know who I am,
so y'all don't really matter;
enlightened banter-
badder to the bone,
wandered from the castle
and the Buddha found his throne,
sitting lotus,
pulling Indian Rope Tricks,
my getaway-
now the cloud is my sofa;
I only got room for two broads,
the rest of clones
can hang with microphone cords,
and tell your Lord
to pay dues
to the wireless emcee-
endorse a microphone cheque!
Spitting dialect uh,
Catching wreck uh,
one, two, microphone check
(x2)
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6. |
A Pair Of Cool
01:19
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These other dudes are sounding corny
putting messages in songs,
P-E on a track
is like dank in a bong,
better diesel in a blunt
with Medusa on my arm,
a pair of cool valiums
put sweat in my palms,
mountains for the monster
toppled by her nostrils,
soundtrack to the scene-
my chemical gospel,
bad for the children
since it got her lit,
psychoanalyzing
and she play Sigmund,
paranoid finger-licking,
rub gums, palpitating heart
under impression that she'd love some-
now she's strung on on my bed
wearing nothing but perfume,
lying to my face, saying
"Chris, I won't hurt you"
Out on the town-
politely turning down coke,
sneaking, trying to find
a quiet corner, to smoke-
that's when I see you...
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7. |
Withdrawals
00:57
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Been a long time.
Sloppy start but quick
to catch the beat though,
door locked, in the bathroom.
just me and you!
Looking good, rolled up in Brown,
she kisses my lips,
and all hassle just drowns
to the feeling that she give...
(Girl laughing)
but that's another lyric;
she's here with me today,
so I'mma bask in her spirit,
not by the beach
but I can hear the breeze singing,
me- grinning,
foolish feeling like it's love,
disappointed in the way
that my mama disapprove,
but I got nothing to prove-
I'm sounding like a dick
baby, maybe I'm an addict,
being with you is relaxing,
depsite the fact
I'm probably brushing with the law,
you're the reason I ainted tempted,
succumbed to alcohol,
or being hurt by angry broads,
bored with life or jaded,
even temporary-
hate when we're separated;
and I swear there'll be a day...
there I go again, foolish!
At least when it's gone
we'll still have this...
Cool shit...
Something 'bout ugh...
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8. |
Untitled
01:10
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9. |
Nako Tuk Tuk
01:57
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Blow your speaker out!
Gossip folks-
we're the ones that they speak about,
give a fuck-
you ain't a man, you're a mango,
I'm Dr. King,
lifting chains off of Django,
Slick Richard!
Thick dicking,
bald eagle in the company of pigeons-
king fishing!
Concerned with comfort
it so happens that I style
on these maggots playing dress-up,
ugh-ugh's in denial,
but your chick knows-
she plays me close
and hopes to get the dick though,
just say when!
I drop a gem like
the sick hawk phlegm
have her diving for my snot
when my dick sneeze, then-
you can get your oral fix,
after that,
introduced to other orifices,
raw dogging it like they cured AIDS,
like she ain't plotting on a way to get paid,
protect my seed like Monsanto,
licensing fees if you think you can handle,
the pussy vandal- tagging sugar walls,
post no bills, nobody on watch;
babe, we could make art-
mini-me's little rude bwoys
full of heart,
that's if your mind right,
and you're mine right...
She said "Daddy cool,
great like Alexander,
Al Balushi, Genghis Khan,"
I ain't stopping
'til I'm Nako Tuk Tuk,
this is more than love, ma-
I give a fuck!
(x2)
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10. |
You're Lost!
01:40
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It's no surprise
you keep working on your jump shot-
your flow is wack
and I know, you don't push crack rock,
you on the streets like these bums
looking for handouts
and the only thing you burn
is Marlboros, when you hangout;
rap for the city,
me- I spit worldwide,
you drunk with dudes,
me- I get dumb high
with pretty women
who don't even want to know ya,
didn't know what dope was,
until I came and showed ya,
that jazz is P-G,
P-E rap that triple X,
that rough sex,
more pimping, if nothing else,
even these DJs,
just paint the same picture;
mess with your hoes,
get in your face
and just dis ya!
I'm New York to the birthplace
in the passport,
which one? Pick one,
ask for it!
I rapped in places
that these locals'll never know,
describe the scene in one word-
"hysterical",
Y'all dudes is on that wack shit,
that's why I burn a blunt,
bump Sinosikat shit;
even on vinyl,
their rhymes are vermicelli,
your art made by cavemen-
I'm renaissance already.
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11. |
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Own earth-
spin on my own terms,
concerned with star wars,
satellites cocked-
step to my atmosphere,
pack dank, immigration stamp,
herb visa, duty-free broads
blowing kisses at the genius;
eye-fucking Venus,
Mars wars, tea with Mussolini,
battle rappers looking Darfur,
and I'm steady blunted,
committing sins like glutton,
get on tracks strutting,
spit perfection like it's nothing,
disgusting-
I haven't felt the way since mescaline,
and since the streets is Riff Raff,
I rhyme behind Sentra tints,
and to think-
your heart is riding shotgun,
my finger's on the trigger,
duck-hunting, fucking something,
fucking something-
you should know my steez,
resurrect her, twelfth labor of Hercules,
from Haros' teeth,
picking plaque with a toothpick,
making funky music
a contrast to that bullshit...
This is a dream,
living a Nissan nightmare,
and grinning ear to ear
it's just PE!
your highness,
live from the Blue Ridges,
Planet Rock,
bang your head,
break your drum kit,
and fuck a rap-
this is abstract expression,
sounding brighter than these writers
broadcasting themselves,
sometimes I like to chop
a beat up and rock...
(uh huh, uh huh)
Why don't you sit down
and chew chat,
sip L's and do that
New Jack, classical,
atomic drop boom bap,
days of future past,
style you couldn't pull, shit
shame on you nerds
for sleeping on the cool kid...
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12. |
With Disrespect Intended
01:35
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Simply because-
I spit the lover-ly,
a contrast to that ug-ly,
rot them bombaclots
try to pass of on these bunnies,
but not me-
the P-E flex the sex-tacular,
my tantric vernacular,
guarantee they snub me,
I'm hungry-
runny at the mouth,
dissing sound bwoys
for dumbing,
pulling on a cigarette
as if they're smoking something,
but bluffing with flow
or lack thereof,
I hope you're taking care of
the style that you're biting...
(Sage wisdom from 'ism
children find enlightening)
Oh, now he's getting salty
and it was all good
until you got caught
with the prophecy,
so peep the new chapter-
verses from the letters
of the renegade master,
son of the old earth,
O-G God-body,
fashioned in the style
of a homemade shotty,
cocked, fully-loaded
blast illuminati,
and been against the grain
since my timepiece divorced me-
now, I heed no minutes,
I'm finished when I'm finished
singing "sky's the limit,"
still in it for the doja,
spoiling all my holsters
and anyone who want it,
with all the season's greetings,
spite, and all the mean things,
that make you love the kid,
plain in presentation-
it's the same when I spit...
With disrespect intended
(x4)
Truly yours, sincerely,
love and x-o's,
hugs and besos,
signed, "Chrissy".
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13. |
Rugged Amplexus.
01:33
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Raps from the heart of,
look like the start of
rugged amplexus...
Rhymes from PE is
hot sex on a platter,
pull it back
and hit 'em with the rapture-
no Blondie,
but Brown be
bald head cool,
across seas
calmly dropping...
Generosity-
my response to half-hop emcees,
wanna be pop emcees,
that's why you're not...
They're spitting writtens,
I'm just shitting,
raps without religion,
God without the middleman,
hoes without the pimping,
nihilistic pimp shit
while others seem suspended
in that vicar said-so, strict shit;
sour Christian,
what were you thinking?
Spilling every Philistine in sight-
you are your pops, kid,
whatever happened to?
Sometimes, I hardly knew...
Every time I listen to it,
it's like Techno music...
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PE Quezon City, Philippines
quezon city rap. no tricks. no gimmicks.
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