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Flying Lotus

Dead Man’s Tetris

The Uncluded Watsky

Hold up, hold up I bet you thinking that we dead Hold up, hold up I have this bullet in my head Hold up, hold up Mama what’s them words you said? (What did you say, nigga?!) I don’t give a dam, you can’t make me shame Hold up, hold up Why you make us think you’re dead? What did you said nigga? Hold up, hold up Me and Dilla ‘bout to blow some trees (yeah fuck yeah) Hold up, pass to Austin and to Freddie Mercury Don’t need nobody, we bouncin’ on that Astral Plane Hold up, hold up I think I just forgot my name (That’s cause you’re dead) Nickel plated nine Bang bang blow your mind Beep beep flatline Gotta get yours, I been had mine Hold my hand, laying in the bed Family crying, they think he dead No jokes no hoax Felt his palm, he had no pulse Could’ve been the drank, it might’ve been the smoke In light of all that he was considered dope And now I’m left to keep you strong And I kept you Flying Lotus and I step too You can’t run, just gonna get you I was live when I met you Now this seems to upset you This what the shit gon’ get you: Death

TearsDeicate toSong Diamonds Name Cycle

Got an issue but it’s getting bigger and bigger In the beginning it was something minor Got a rat up in my kitchen and we gotta get rid of it So we’re bringing in a tiger There’s something inside her Thought you were blissful I heard you did it with a pink-handled pistol But sadness, it tend to latch on And it won’t let go like a pitbull Don’t even know if you left a note Should we blame the Depakote? Or vilify the Abilify? You were trying to find your vanilla sky Then you unravel Face down on rock bottom fucking chewing gravel Because a human’s so fragile. What can you do? I know it’s sappy But I want my family to be happy Without becoming flatter than a sheet of paper An army of zombies shuffling through a vapor But I know folks who found something beautiful And they credit the pharmaceuticals For slaying the demons that they’re running from It might have saved their lives and I’m one of em But there’s a limit to the shit you can endure You get a prescription and you’re thinking that it’s pure But baby maybe it’s a problem when you got a problem And you get addicted to the cure The spike ain’t no mystery We’re any penny in a billion dollar industry And there’s a mothafucka on living on the hill pushing pills Stacking bills off our misery 1




The Uncluded

Delicate Cycle

I can take my finger off, old dog, old trick New twist like actually take the finger off Wrap it in a blanket as you would a severed horse head Mail it to a friend you wanna pinky swear more with and Should they need a forearm or something they can practice drawing skulls on Cut it from the shoulder while the saw’s warm The full appendage really make a world of difference Included too are 30 teeth to chew out all your critics 32 would have been perfect, 2 were casualties of it’s it’sI always wanted radder things for Christmas The rest were cool I’m shipping out a torso in the a.m. You should learn to hit the organs every time at 40 paces - it’s important I can’t explain why now, by the way Legs in a crate delivery by today If a uniformed man knock knocks, sign his document You shouldn’t have to walk out to the mailbox for the other shit


My mom was a lunch lady when I was in elementary school She was outside during recess She had a whistle and I thought that that was cool She was really nice to all the kids who didn’t have a lot of friends She would give them hugs and tell them jokes or she’d play catch with them And, my dad worked at the laundromat which was really cool to me I’d get to open up the washing machines And clean them out and collect the money And I’d open soap dispenser and put new little boxes of soap inside I knew how it worked and I was good at it And helping out filled me with a sense of pride I would meet all kinds of people there and I would look them in the eye And I’d say “Hi! Excuse me, but do you mind If I shine the glass while your clothes dry?



Worlds to Run

Every song responds to a threat Every laundered dollar’s wet But if a mom’s like a song torn breath But as long as I can ponder the depth And the king sorta stinks of lunacy I roam the rinks in sync with the jinx that are having me sink the moon and the sea ? Bankers clink drinks as they uplink to the sphinx’s coonery I’m on the brink, I could fill my sink with the king’s jewelry Yeah, who is he? Driver. I am from a dead world Sole practitioner of his customs and know the RPM of your head twirl Driver old as fuck My daughter old enough to vote Rap songs blowing up on the coast Loyal subjects rolling up that smoke Cuz I dictate terms from an ensnarled perch Yeah, and Leimert Park is Winterfell Rumors I learn to Splinter Cell pitches sale from Mike’s Citadel Exact an explicit Hell Empty the fire and sway My music on Pirate’s Bay as my elusive alliances fray I collude with a silent clay and infuse a vibrant day With a soothing eye of decay -- putting food on the dining tray


Yeah, I can do this my way This slack-jaw mealy-mouth I mumble when I’m ‘round the house I’m trying not to do no chores today Crying in my underwear I lost my sense of wonder, there No, I’m not Milan Kundera Though this lightness is unbearable The feeling is indelible I’m wishing I could teleport somewhere Transmolecularize through the secular eye I remember when Vegeta stomped Bardock’s neck in Two prayer hands to the heavens Good Lord, bless Him I was a broke slob watching Ghost Dog Writing Post Hoc If I could muster just one good throat chop And honor my shidoshi Because ‘dim mak’ means ‘death touch’ I been Spock, I been clutch In thin socks, I’m butthurt Impervious pervert with niggerish fervour Crashing Linux server Who didn’t to change his laundry over Who needs to buy toilet paper Indie rapper, sorta faker ‘Cuz I couldn’t afford a mortgage or a Studebaker ‘Cuz I couldn’t afford a mortgage or a Studebaker 6


I’m a phenomenon. And I gotta bring pain in the Octagon When I wanna spit game at a soccer mom I get it quicker than the left lane on the Autobahn Fast; like Ramadan - and I battle young Padawans all the damn day I’m getting naked and I’m hopping on a wrecking ball so hot I got that motherfucker a la flambé. I go to Miley’s house. I see that Miley’s home. I play Miley’s ribcage with my dick like it’s a Xylie-phone Yes, that was highly fucked up but my skills are highly honed And if I was highly hyphy I might be more widely known C’est la vie. Better pay my fee They kick it in Seattle in a Patagonia jacket, they get it in the Bay in a plain white tee Hey mami! You a PYT! Wanna see

Whoa Whoa Whoa

me speak? Then I go (go) go (go) go (go)! Every time I get a beat I know I gotta beat it up, I bend it then I break it then I chop it and I eat it up, And PETA would never approve of the way I’ve been treating the music, I bleed it, I bruise it, I kick it to the curb and then I’m sipping on my bourbon I be freaking it doing it, keeping it moving I’m picking apart the muscle when I’m thinking about the hustle but I’m nice. Nice! I’ll jump the freeway median, I’m savage Cause my mode is that I’m meaner than the average Like my teacher taught me when I heard the crowd applaud I thought I was an atheist until I realized I’m a God It could hurt a bit when I murder shit in a moment I’ll be tying off a tourniquet When I burn 7

Artist Name

em and I hit em in the sternum, I don’t even gotta enter but I’m gonna win the tournament That’s what I’m all about. Do what I gotta do and never gonna pout And I hope that it woulda been the end of it and I’m out, but they never tend to gimme the benefit of the doubt Ever since I was a little I kid I know that I’ve been looking for the hot hot spotlight And if you really wonder what I think about the competition, they were not not not tight I been reading my scripture. Every photobomber wanna


Song Name

be in my picture And ya better bet I’m living every single day like it’s the motherfucking Catalina Wine Mixer Bada bing bada boom, when I walk in I’m the king of the room And I get it locked in like a king in a tomb, when I spit a toxin and they cough on the fumes Cause I’m back in the nick of time and attacking a fickle mind I’m a jackal I’ll rip his hide I’ma tackle him, pick a fight, I be Dracula set to bite in the black of the bitter night and I’m out. Poof.

Aesop Rock

Get Out of the Car

Been a bit since Mu died Been a lot more loss in the wake I recall thinking some day someone’s gonna say it’s all from the same cause and effect And I just couldn’t fathom Blaming a whole new page on a made-up chain reaction Each claim individual peaks and pockets Pains and a slew of unique nuances Nahmean? When you wake up 8 years non-responsive It’s a lot to process Gone from a happier jack-inthe-box To a package of clogged up chakras Oh shazbat Not the “ever after” he wanted from the “once upon a time” Dot, dot, dot Once upon a time he was so much more than a punchline for his own potshots Ah, Watch the Impossible Kid Everything that he touch turns promptly to shit If I zoom on out I can finally admit It’s all been a blur since Mu got sick None of the subsequent years stood a chance Whether you his moms or his mans Whether you his pops or his girl 9

I was poison, heart full of canines, head full of voices Whole life trying to quiet ‘em down Like a suicide king with a knife in his crown Hounds at bay, but they just won’t stay True friendship in a tugboat way A go dark in the face of the fucked, when the fucked was a friend I was basically done Into the woods go his alien tongue It was that or a textbook faking of funk And I can’t Here go the hindsight 8 years been one long blindside I could pinpoint 7 more turns that occurred cuz he never really healed from the first Oh what a world Any hack is a myth, any dap is a joke Any map is a trick, any graph is a hoax Ease on down, I’m burning up, I’m bleeding out Knowing ain’t half the battle That’s a bullshit quip written by some asshole You can own what you are And still sit around stoned in your car Not doing shit, halfway to nill Cranky and waiting for a boss key and hat full of bills Get out the car, Aes 10