Get Some Friends
by Ghettosocks
Bill McEwen
Easy Biscuit
Aaron Bursey
Jan Willink
Mannie
“This was my introduction to Ghettosocks. He seriously crafts rhymes, but he also adds a good degree of humour & wit; which is enjoyable. The creativity displayed on this album was magnetically alluring: "I came up with the microwave trying to build a TV, and ate the first TV dinner trying to take it easy". A mishap created a great invention, and what's even more profound is the ability to write that in a rap. It goes without saying, "I Invented Everything" is one of my favourite tracks.”
Joe Gabriel
Donny Boy
Merrick Webb
Trevor McDonalds
…
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 13-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire. Full album download includes digital booklet.Buy Now $5 CAD or more
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12" Vinyl
SIDE A (street versions)
1. Suck It Up featuring Bix
2. City Life featuring Loe Pesci and Classified
3. Steal From Walmart
SIDE B (instrumental versions)
1. Suck It Up featuring Bix
2. City Life featuring Loe Pesci and Classified
3. Steal From WalmartBuy Now $10 CAD
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Socks Is Okay
01:48
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Lapping The Sun
02:23
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Suck It Up featuring Bix
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Count Sockula Esquire
03:30
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Naturally Nice
03:16
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Read-A-Book
02:47
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Steal From Walmart
02:56
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I Invented Everything
02:59
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Comfortable Silence
01:23
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about
The long awaited debut album from Alpha Flight autobot, Ghettosocks, has materialized in the form of Get Some Friends.
Recorded and produced by Socks himself, GSF features Aplha Flight alumni, Bix (Suck It Up), DJ Josh (Step to a T-Rex, Out to You), and Jabba the Cutt (I Invented Everything). Throw in appearances by fellow Hali rappers Apt (Out To You) and Classified (City Life), and Montreal based Loe Pesci (City Life), Get Some Friends is gonna Get Your Socks Off.
Recorded and produced by Socks himself, GSF features Aplha Flight alumni, Bix (Suck It Up), DJ Josh (Step to a T-Rex, Out to You), and Jabba the Cutt (I Invented Everything). Throw in appearances by fellow Hali rappers Apt (Out To You) and Classified (City Life), and Montreal based Loe Pesci (City Life), Get Some Friends is gonna Get Your Socks Off.
credits
released 15 November 2006
1. Socks Is Okay Produced and cuts by Ghettosocks.
2. Lapping the Sun Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
3. Suck It Up Produced and cuts by Ghettosocks, written and performed by Mr. Bix and Ghettosocks.
4. A Song About Breakdancing Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
5. Step to a T-Rex Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks, cuts by DJ Josh.
6. Count Sockula Esquire Produced, written, performed & cuts by Ghettosocks.
7. Naturally Nice Produced, written, performed & cuts by Ghettosocks.
8. City Life Produced by Mr. Bix, written and performed by Loe Pesci, Classified and Ghettosocks.
9. Read-A-Book Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
10. Steal From Walmart Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
11. I Invented Everything Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks, cuts by Jabba tha Cutt.
12. Out to You Produced by Ghettosocks, written and performed by Apt and Ghettosocks, cuts by DJ Josh.
13. Comfortable Silence.
All songs arranged by Ghettosocks at Skynet Lab.
All songs mixed by Dexter Doolittle and Ghettosocks.
All Songs Mastered By Dexter Doolittle.
Made in Canada.
1. Socks Is Okay Produced and cuts by Ghettosocks.
2. Lapping the Sun Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
3. Suck It Up Produced and cuts by Ghettosocks, written and performed by Mr. Bix and Ghettosocks.
4. A Song About Breakdancing Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
5. Step to a T-Rex Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks, cuts by DJ Josh.
6. Count Sockula Esquire Produced, written, performed & cuts by Ghettosocks.
7. Naturally Nice Produced, written, performed & cuts by Ghettosocks.
8. City Life Produced by Mr. Bix, written and performed by Loe Pesci, Classified and Ghettosocks.
9. Read-A-Book Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
10. Steal From Walmart Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks.
11. I Invented Everything Produced, written & performed by Ghettosocks, cuts by Jabba tha Cutt.
12. Out to You Produced by Ghettosocks, written and performed by Apt and Ghettosocks, cuts by DJ Josh.
13. Comfortable Silence.
All songs arranged by Ghettosocks at Skynet Lab.
All songs mixed by Dexter Doolittle and Ghettosocks.
All Songs Mastered By Dexter Doolittle.
Made in Canada.
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
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Noted as one of the top rappers in Canada (The CBC’s Top 25 Greatest Canadian Rappers Ever), Ghettosocks is a JUNO Award nominated Hip Hop Producer and MC born in Ottawa and living in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.
shows
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Jun 30Saskatoon, SK
discography
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Nov 2012 -
Apr 2012 -
Oct 2009 -
Dec 2009 -
Aug 2008 -
Nov 2006
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, including help with merch, click here.
Redeem download codes here.
- Track Name: Lapping The Sun
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Big Socks on the set. Break your cameras out. Words are sexy but I never took the glamorous route. I brought beaucoup bouquets of bombs to drop on 'em, comin' in so many colors kids say I jock autumn. Move swift, lappin' the sun and use gifts, clippin' overgrown egos; leave opponents useless. Cats are fabricating fabulous, see me scatter ashes, tabulate the abacus and leave 'em flabbergasted. Advanced lyrical rain-dance. Man of the house stays tecked-out, still wearin' the same pants. Strange lands, travel the globe with veined hands and stop the spinning with fingertips like fate plans. Alpha what? Align astrological signs. Swap symbols in the temple tryin' to follow the mind. Standing out by taking the road that's less travelled, unravelling the code of the soul and bless samples. Channelling the cold of the poles and press mantles, chosen for the hold of the throne; set examples. Prone to blow spots and restore lost faith in the gods, save the applause 'til I'm done blazin' these frauds. I made a cause of bringing flavor to jaws- taste it and pause, patience of the ancients when I'm lacin' these bars. Praise Allah 'cause I'm stayin' involved until the time the mind-frames of the basic evolve- and the heat don't know me- I'm too cold, shatter the track like glass masters- origami two-fold. Slow ducks catch orange pistols. Fuck a next level- get a smack from a warp whistle.
I come from a planet where the dominant inhabitants panic and plant pieces of metal in the inanimate. DNA strands are spliced in cryo-cabinets; part primate, part god- rock banana clips. Television: learn to read and spell it with 'em, mental prison expelling wisdom while I excel on rhythms- and I ain't trying to save the day- I'm playing keep-away with your brain in a field of razor-blades. Don't trip, secret opponents get blown lids and I'm proposing that foes who oppose get domes bit. I mind my own biz watching time-zones shift, spittin' poems that are prone to leave clone's bones stripped. ~ Heads buried deep in the basement nodding to the boom-bap 'cause they agree with the statement. Cheap labour on unable labels needing replacement ain't hype- bite the curb like you're eatin' the pavement- and proving the existence of god isn't that hard when mathematics equate and translate the visions of art and vice-versa. My vice is to write verses that might hurt your feelings twice and entice murder. Parallel to nothin'- make your comprehension malfunction- so keep coordinates tucked in. Don't rush in when I'm bustin- all spontaneous, that's you tastin' flames while combustin'. - Track Name: Suck It Up featuring Bix
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<Bix raps first:> These rap punks are programmed with pentium eyelids, all hype and no action like the millenium virus. While my lyrics process through AMD, you get obliterated by the AFC like 'blahhh'- reminiscent of Sean P, and you never catch us sippin' on no Dom P just raw steeze like Primo beats from 93. You must be fucked up thinking your shine can blind me. We got no dough, dope shows, rub bows with pros, promos, Joe Blows who rip foes. Mentally sparring Yoda in a dojo then Katana blade slice so fast it's like slow-mo. Close shave like a mach 3 guillotine killin' dreams with enough bass to chill a fiend. Genius- we appreciate the color green and got tracks that'll rock your face like Butter Bean.
<Ghettosocks raps:> It's that smooth talker live from the zoo in tube socks keepin' 2pac's head in a jar with blue vodka. Too proper- what? you think im too awkward? Rock a tactical belt but no pants like chewbacca. I'm not lifted, 'cause i don't own a glider. I was bitten by Elvira with her poisonous incisors. She used to buy me gear but now i rock my own attire and i never got caught for shopliftin' like Wynonna Ryder. I brought a parrot to school on meet the parent's day tried to feed it carrot cake, but it ate my tear-aways- and ever since that fateful day- I've undoubtedly become the best MC to ever rep Paraguay. I step on the set and they say "dammit he's back!" after the show i get more props than a manatee's back. Vanity's wack- a rap artist handling gats? Naw- you're a sandwich artist makin ham and cheese wraps. I made this track with a rag on a stick while looking out the window at a flag on a ship. Did those north-end cats stop packin' the clips? Yeah, and halifax harbour is immaculate, kid. Imagine it- Socks gettin' paid to make hits? That's stupid like havin' two dogs and makin em kiss. You're gonna hear a splash if you're tapin' me flip, 'cause my balls touch the water when I'm takin' a shit./ backup." - Track Name: A Song About Breakdancing
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The knowledge I personify is bonified. Haters groan and sigh. To the blind who deny style- I loan an eye. Zones defined by the written and the spoken rhyme provoke the mind to choke like beholding smokin' dimes. Talkin bout the jeans not the green- that's reefer. Peace to the powerful queens like Latifah. Smash beepers and cellphones with mad features, keepin' both feet on the ground- I mean Adidas. I had cheetahs and leopards as pets, seven in check, the sixth had the cleverest steps. Robots pop-lock- slide with the phat data as I watch a turtle hang-glide with a jackhammer. Solar eclipse, B-girls be holding their hips. Headspins into a freeze- as cold as it gets. Crew hoodies drenched with aroma of sweat and when the heads go berzerk that means the moment was fresh.
B-boys, keep it movin', keep improvin, keep on doin what you're doin. B-girls, keep it movin', keep improvin, keep on doin what you're doin.DJs, rock rock on. Yeah, you be the heart of the party- so keep the beat stong and MCs, rock rock on. Motivate with the mic and (keep it movin on...)/
The tribal ritual and boogaloo by the bus stop with animated antics entranced by the uprock. Advancements of the innovators planning to bust spots entangled with the imitators biters can suck--. There there- no need to despair squares, we're working in the circular with halos that tear hairs. The break's a home- and my throne is an air chair. Kids do air flares while the crowd stares like care bares. Running man rubber bands to a pompo, under fans a hundred hands grip to a bronco. Windmills turn- an architect plans stuff, superman saves babies, mummies' in handcuffs. Moet'll get spilled 'cause my poetical skills are incredible like Magic Johnson's medical bills. Dedicated to never-faded progressions of ill, simply proving that the artform's indelible still. - Track Name: Step To A T-Rex featuring DJ Josh
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I was talking to this chick, she said "let's go soon", then I was chased by a T-Rex. Geoff Goldblume. Wheels spinnin' in the mud, Th-Thuds closin' in, feet stompin' pedals like Rodney catchin' toes to chin. The reptile was fast and large- don't tell me they're extinct-
cause you haven't seen Jurrassic Park. I ain't playin'- players got torn in half; that's what you get for movin' slower than a tortoise ass. I'm on my way, people move your arms and legs. Get these pandas out the crate quick- 'andale'. I can't play it like philosophers and contemplate, I'm on the run like officers want my name. I gotta- bounce outta there lickity-split, quick on my own two forget your rickity-whip, listen: 'vite vite'- that's the sound of my feet feet, squeekin on the street with the speed to delete creeps. Speech splatters the meek after we meet on the track leaving the wack in unique patterns. That results in catapultin' weak chatter- pistons squeeze hammers and imbeciles bleed matter. DJs'll freak that up. I'm moving at a sleek gallop over some beats that'll heat gats up. T-Rex's outta eat salad, but if a rapper's tryna battle that'll mean that I'll need ketchup.
Y'all hardcore? Step to a T-Rex. Y'all want war? Step to a T-Rex. Y'all want more? Step to a T-Rex. Yo big Joshua- just let the beat flex.
I ditched the jeep with blistered feet, sprinting like a gold medalist from Mr. T. Unbearably hype- moving cause I cherish my life, suckas stay behind like baby chairs on a bike. Fuck a speed limit, I'm tryna breathe with it, but I'm wheezin' til I'm purple like I be Grimace. Audiences don't listen after three minutes, no wonder clever motherfuckers need gimmicks. No lenses in the glasses- before your friend asks if it's for real or pretend- that's it. Don't question it like border guards to Mexicans, please move your ass out the way when I'm exitin'. Ben Johnson- where you at still? I'll tear the track killed and wear a black kilt. I'll square a mapped hill, somewhere and jack jill, compare the rap skills to pteradactyls. Unusually fly with a tight flow. You're sayin' 'true guy' like a Dela Soul typo. Nitro Nike kicks with the white toe that might glow moving at the speed that light goes. Tyranical lizard plans to eat lots. Can't find the wizard spanned the g-spots. I ran for a minute 'cross the land lke Ewoks, a damn T-REX can't step to G-Socks. - Track Name: Count Sockula Esquire
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I used to use thoughts to form a complex message, now they act as my main form of contraceptive. Wonder where my conscience is as I watch the Jetsons- can't wait 'til Konami drops Contra 7. The Autobot stays laser-proof- glazed the booth- and play the mic like a chef with a spoon tastes the soup. Filleted your troop, found a grenade and played the loop. Extinct cats ain't smiling like a sabre-tooth. I'll make a poop on some missioning toys in visors and give 'em shine with the glistening moisturize. Boys supply the whereabouts of coy advisors- as punishment make em listen to Moist in side burns. I'm sick of burning kids black parkas, but I admit I love the smell of permanent black markers. Go figure- I'm feelin' it like old Jigga, while I spy your platoon jiggle to Gold Digger. Trivial situations turn medical, theoretical rebels get tended to by the tenticles. Mentioning the penmanship: it's incredible, while chicquitas speculate dimensions of my genitals. Speaking of which I saw your better half at the show, started off cold but later on she had an afterglow.Bad habit of intimidating faking ladies, teaching new languages while simulating making babies.
I show up to the jam wired when the band's tired and grab the microphone dressed like a vampire. Crowds get upset when i'm servin herbs candy, like girls get disgusted when they hear the word 'panties'. Butter smooth lyrics cascade shimmering slopes, invincible riddles'll trickle from the pinnacle's throat. The timid trip on sentences and syllable ropes, in minutes cynics switch to kids that say the ritual's dope. C'mon now, last year I bought a robe made of cashmere. I only wear it out when I'm rollin with Black-beard. Rap pirates act flyest 'cause we spat science, this guy is seein more nips than a cat's sinus. Your highness called me up tryna get hired, said I'd review her resume- then threw it in the fire. Count Sockula, Esquire- some say a harsh fellow. Kids got parched elbows, sippin' melted marshmallows. Prevalent with the sonics and eloquent with ebonics ducks are hardly movin' like Disney animatronics. Intentions to planet rock Bambataa tell em' to stop it. Eccentric with the tent pitched, feminists be honest. Competition ain't measurin' up. I drop jewels on a town and motherfuckers start clevering up. Not saying that i'm better and stuff, but while you pluck flower petals I'm gettin medals for pettin the muff. - Track Name: Naturally Nice
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We've been friends a long time but i'm sorry i have to kill you. These rhymes involve minds like Pine Sol dissolves mildew. Allow me to extrapolate, i'll seal a rapper's fate from a ceiling fan with cellophane and some packing tape. Ever since the seventh grade i had to gravitate and when i heard Kane i said 'damn that rapper's great'. So now i navigate with battered crates filled with magic plates and enough tricks to outwit the average ape. i'll shake a chimp's hand and shape-shift by the quicksand, swing by a vine and save a lion in a quick jam. I had a membership at the zoo for eleven years. They all knew my name like Norm when he stepped in Cheers. Spent too much time with the penguins and was asked to leave, but that's aight cause i cut myself some backup keys. I'm too nice- animals can sense my good nature, feeding trail mix to wack MCs with a wooden stapler. LRG was gonna sponsor but i blew my chance when the rep walked in on me wearing a goose for pants. I'll do a dance like Ed McMahon just threw me grands and spew a load on the camera crew without using hands. Rap technologies are biological, with warning labels that read 'danger! highly volatile'. Suckaz wanna step to the true and try the honorable with visuals so rich your mama had to buy a monocle.
The rhythm is timeless and these villains are spineless. I'll give 'em love taps and straight kill em with kindness. The flyest MC on the no-fly list. Insomniac on the skills? Nope- no eyelids. I brought goodie bags of knowledge for the mobs to snack on and some tails for these donkey-faced zombies to tack-on. Articulate and tickle plates with rigorous passion and pixilate a missile base- ridiculous hats on. Out of ten I rate a horizontal figure eight. These cats ain't happenin' like tourin' Montreal in figure skates. I'll bake a pretty cake that won't match your shitty face, kiss the ring then remember how your mama's titties taste. I'll knit a sweater out of olive leaves and send it to your crib with a letter of apology. You'll prolly frame it on your wall thinking all is peace, but if you read it backwards, you'd see it says you swallow pee. Follow G to the H double T- O- Halifax got enough MCs to double T.O. I get run outta town every time I bust a free show: 'floor it motherfucker!' I am, it's just a Geo! Petting baby llamas how the man do- damn you- on the mic like koalas on to bamboo. It's all factual- all phat- the god's rational. Raw raps spannning all maps- it's all natural. - Track Name: City Life featuring Loe Pesci and Classified
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<Loes raps:> On rooftops and trainyards see my squad 'round. When shit stinks it's instinct- don't let my guard down. Blackout- they all want power on the block now but bullet heads taste sick sour like the cops 'round. Y'all desreve a pity-murder for ruining waves like a shitty surfer while I'm painting streets like a city worker. Shining chrome- piece ain't a nine-milli burner- beef on walls- no flippin burgers when I grill and serve ya. Ghetto birds got you pitchin nervous- speak in code- but don't be greetin' Loes with suspicious wordage. Pissed you heard us- 'cause now you serve a fickle purpose. If I'm lava in Guatamala- you a little furnace. So dope drugs pay us to rep- drums pace in my steps. We mean business like frustrated execs. The clubs paying for drinks sayin' you done payin for sex? Bad bucks don't add up like skunk papers and cess. What we are to our craft is math to an economist- adds to what the profit is- bloodbath to pirana fish. My city reeks of drunk-asses and vomitin'. Just shitty beats with punk asses predominant. I take it back like at the store tryin' to trade my girl. I got a long 'to-do' list like my name is Earl. I bag your whore- bag the raw- get some paint and curl. Tag your door and write a quote that'll change the world/
<Classified raps:> Now when the lights go down the night turn dark, people don't sleep fast- livin' like Dale Earnheart. Money makin' suit and ties advance with true lies while street kids try to get a bite like fruit flies. The city life- every corner has a different story, every block and every building had their day of glory: the burn-outs- broken bottles in the littered streets, older cats reminiscing how it used to be. A small town growing up to be a big city. Sky-scrapers constructed over history. Gotta get money- work the street like young whores who got room and board paying off cheap slum lords. Big community- small back yard. The youth are killing me- they all act hard. I talk what I'm seeing- not what it could've been- Classified; an outsider's view looking in the city life.
<Ghettosocks:> I swim through the city with fins and crisp splashes, where humans get lost under frost and sip rations. My paint ain't faint- these templates will rip canvas, stained with the fame of the names then kids vanish. Inflict damage- media vans depict bandits who risk captivity masked like sick pandas. Cliques clash- play in the streets the script's tragic, clips split fabric the strip restricts fashions. Imagination caged in a maze with mixed plastics, leave your flow dead as the veins in crypt caskets. Kids gather in packs to get magic, the wizard walks blizzards and wrath to spit havoc. Thrashing in the wake of mistakes to flip habits like sisters on trampolines eclipse passion. Gipped masses sing non-descript anthems to represent a place where all this shit happens. Slip fathoms under the ships with lips gaspin'- black strapped hips government equipped hatchets- magnums numb and defrag to hit patches- body bags sag when they're dragged like ripped mattress. Lacking concern earns burn from stick matches, stigmata hatches through cracks of whip crashes. Seeds disappear -another mother's gift passes, leaves here - tears bead in thick lashes. - Track Name: Read-A-Book
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I can move a crowd with the wave of my hand and if knowledge is a weapon- I'm a dangerous man. MCs be mythologically rockin' the booth, keep on claiming Hercules? Call me Dr.Seuss. In case you didn't get the drift- I'm shootin' gift about books. Most rappers are scared to death- they're scared to look. C'mon player- fill up your mind and rhyme honestly. The god's laughin' at you I call it divine comedy. I sympathize with villains in a paradise lost, sip Fruitopia through a pair of nice straws, decode DaVinci's strokes in a scary night fog- these boys ain't hard- they're Hardy Boys wearing my jock. So get off my Phillip K. Dick- learn to read and write, then you might think of some stuff to burn the speed of light. Smarten up- I'll tell you time and again- you hit the club- I hit the library tryna get brain, bring it.
I read at night with a white lighter flicked on in a tent to see the truth- the hype writer of the innocent. I don't promote guns like Heston might or 50 cent 'cause that's the one-buttoned typewriter of the ignorant. Chicken noodle soup for the soul? Hellsno- it's Ghettosocks the Autobot keepin you in the know. Fuck the hype of media- I'm not the type to be beatin' ya. Y'all bite but can't take me out like encyclopedias. Stupid idiots brag that they diss me keep on getting it backwards like they're Agatha Christie. Untangle the mystery 'til your brains' mangled and crispy, forget it- Stephen King couldn't handle the misery. And on the real I don't blame these cats. This system that we're livin' in is lame and wack with Junior high girls going off to learn in a thong-
your english class will probably analyze the words to this song- c'mon. - Track Name: Steal From Walmart
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I'm broker than your nose when bowes are thrown in your face so I'm steppin' into Walmart like I'm owning the place. Just pillaged Value Village in a suit that looks damn hot, greeted by a creep who thinks he's my grandpa. What's the deal? While y'all are watchin' out for falling prices I'm watching out for stuff to steal. Five finger gift certificates- dawning a lumped sleeve- steal from Walmart- there ain't no honor amongst thieves. Corporate scumbuckets. Some love it and buy it. Some tucked it and slided- snuck it right by ya. They bypass international law so when I walk out- it looks like I shat in my drawers. Biggie smalls used to rob cats and I ain't with that. Talkin' small businesses? I wouldn't steal a kitkat. Fuck Walmart floor walkers- they're more awkward than being stalked by Chris Walken for 4 blocks- word.
Gimme that- I need this. Taking everything from hats to Degree sticks. Gimme that then I'm out in the breeze quick. Where my homeless at? Where my bums at? Gimme that- I need this taking everything from racks to the leaflets. Gimme that like I'm borrowing to keep it. Where my writers at? Where them bombers?
Hell yeah I steal from Walmart one time I stole a golf cart loaded with enough hot-dogs to feed a ball park, and when it comes to the clothes- I stay dipped eventhough I KNOW they're made by childen age six. Super duper wild in the pooper scooper isle, looking koopa paratrooper style- who's stupid now? Surveillance cams stuck to my moves like they glued em on me. After this I'll go home and write a rap bout doin laundry. Huh? The opposite of inconspicuous- shoplitfting sombraros with rabid pack of little kids. You think it's strange how I flex this way? How many rappers do you know would steal a Shrek display? Ten cans color vision, one pair flanel slacks, two tapes and enough treats to break a camel's back. Some of my friends say I got a played-out vibe, all like: 'your going in to Walmart? I'll wait outside'. - Track Name: I Invented Everything
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They say necessity's the mother of invention- correction- Socks is the bad motherfucker who's inventin'. I've created way too many things to mention in a sentence, with more imagination than eleven Jimmy Hensons. I've been working so hard- I invented elbow grease, invented macaroni, and invented velcrow sneaks. I came up with the microwave- tryna build a TV and ate the first TV dinner tryna take it easy. I'm not the first individual to spit it this raw, but I showed ODB licorice as a straw. Molecular compositions- I can tear 'em apart. I'm that fella putting caramel in Caramilk bars. I used a Hi-liter to sketch the information highway, and named every day of the week- except for friday. In comparison PhDs are looking plastered- I'm making Thomas Edison look like a slacker.
I can manipulate particles like play-doh, turn air into rain and ice into rainbows, snow into stone stained with a faint glow of foes turned into flames while I change clothes.
I know the universe- playin god's my business, watched strange phenomenons learn to crawl up in it. Knew these forces before they were the laws or physics, then they copied my styles and used them all as gimmicks: when I first dropped the galaxy was cloning my sound; shortly after gravity started holding it down. constellations were attracted and assumed me as king; the next day magnetism was out doin his thing. I showed up on the earth and said I was the sun; they thought god was my pops, instead, I was the one.
So I bounced outta there leaving villages blessed- they debated what to call me in the religious texts. - Track Name: Out To You featuring Apt and DJ Josh
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<Apt raps:> It's the century of U and I'm almost 21, on a boat with a stache life ended by a gun. And the sheep are with the sun and there's kids on the beach, and it's read but they didn't cuz they're watching TV. Trying to teach everyone their alpha B-E-T's, so we speak in heat with results of varying degrees. I'll be carrying the beats, you fill your teeth with the carrots, and we'll see who's still rapping by the time they become parents. So to my first seed, this words for U-niversity funds though I haven't met your moms yet, but when I do rest assured it's palm sweat, constant consonant kisses followed by long - yeah. And that'll be the only time that Socks ain't on- not just speaking phrases based on the fact that it's his song. So it's left right, learn to write, what what heard it twice, rollin' with our mens, coast to coast we murder mice, write it down or throw it up flip and the to process merchandise, expensive wax costs less, while me and Socks be hurlin' dice. Think of few things that's more true, a million emcee assholes born in the morn with horns and a horseshoe, with no sort of respect for the predecessors, defiling divine style from the sneakers to the speech and dress shirts. So this for you, who know the past and the fun we have and realize reel's not spelt ee's and money bags. This for you, who know the past and the fun we have and realize that real's not spelt like that.
<Ghettosocks:> In a cypher where there's flowin' cats: you'll prolly find me there like tatoos on a girls lower back. I grip a pen as a lumberjack holds an axe: golden raps sail the air l' big spenders throwing craps. I ignore runts who speak ignorance and give more ups to the kids who adore us. Some pick bones from home- they ain't showin' no unity- way to be the one to put the dot com in community. Juniors get schooled learning word's a promise, concerned with who's on top not concerned with topics. Every verse has a purpose- honest. That's why they tryna bite my ego like somebody put some syrup on it. Fun when I'm doin my craft. Rhymin' 'bout not rhymin' 'bout cars - is still spewing the trash. Keep it true as you manoever the map -uh-huh- and be careful what you do while you're pursuing the cash. 'Cause you could be nicer than halos but as soon as the pay rolls you get the changin' like a pay-phone. The days go at faster paces than than a race so- keep your heart in mind when you're tryna find your way home.
