b.ware Presents... The Red Tape Chronicles
by b.ware
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Digital Album
Immediate download of 17-track album in your choice of MP3 320, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Free Download
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CTRT (Cut The Red Tape)
02:17
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Khujo Goodie
04:16
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Soul on Ice (Winter)
03:36
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Zulu Love Letter
03:43
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If You Believe
02:58
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Southside
04:16
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The Plot Thickens, Pt. 1
02:47
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The Plot Thickens, Pt. 2
05:36
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Fox Kids (Feat. NoTiQ)
05:07
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Slave 2 The Rhythm
04:30
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Autumn Come (The Fall)
07:11
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While You Were Sleep
04:58
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about
i like to call b.ware Presents... The Red Tape Chronicles the official start button of my career. when i think of branding, i think of having an air-tight catalog of quality music that with each release gives the people further insight into who i am as a man and artist. the mind, the message, and the meaning. this is phase 1.
Ghostface Killah had a line on Supreme Clientèle's "Mighty Healthy" that went "the world can't touch Ghost, Purple Tape, Rae co-host" that always made me think about Raekwon's The Purple Tape. since i always Loved the theory and title, and since the color red has it's own significance in my life/brand, the original title was The Red Tape. Chronicles got added later... i just thought it sounded cool. i developed the concept from the title.
in politics, which i hate, red tape is bureaucracy. when necessary, meaningful action is impeded by bullshit rules and regulation. i flipped that into Black culture, as well as the story of my people in america. we've been through tons of red tape to make it to the present day. where have the decisions we've made and the direction we chose (or that the few chose for the many) landed us today? do those moves point the future of our people in the best direction? if not, what must we do now to turn 180 degrees in the opposite direction to secure our future how we would have it? these are the chronicles.
it's dark, with a serious and aggressive tone. emotional, with a spirit of rebellion Hip Hop music and Black music in general lacks today. CUT THE RED TAPE.
-- b.ware
Ghostface Killah had a line on Supreme Clientèle's "Mighty Healthy" that went "the world can't touch Ghost, Purple Tape, Rae co-host" that always made me think about Raekwon's The Purple Tape. since i always Loved the theory and title, and since the color red has it's own significance in my life/brand, the original title was The Red Tape. Chronicles got added later... i just thought it sounded cool. i developed the concept from the title.
in politics, which i hate, red tape is bureaucracy. when necessary, meaningful action is impeded by bullshit rules and regulation. i flipped that into Black culture, as well as the story of my people in america. we've been through tons of red tape to make it to the present day. where have the decisions we've made and the direction we chose (or that the few chose for the many) landed us today? do those moves point the future of our people in the best direction? if not, what must we do now to turn 180 degrees in the opposite direction to secure our future how we would have it? these are the chronicles.
it's dark, with a serious and aggressive tone. emotional, with a spirit of rebellion Hip Hop music and Black music in general lacks today. CUT THE RED TAPE.
-- b.ware
credits
released 25 December 2010
This mixtape was conceptualized, written, delivered, and recorded with every ounce of Love i had in me. i'm full again, time to keep giving. i Love you all. thank you.
Sugar-Free
- b.ware
This mixtape was conceptualized, written, delivered, and recorded with every ounce of Love i had in me. i'm full again, time to keep giving. i Love you all. thank you.
Sugar-Free
- b.ware
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for discography
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Dec 2010 -
Aug 2010
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, click here.
- Track Name: 2 Pens & Tape (Feat. Christopher K.P. Brown)
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by Christopher K.P. Brown
Swords cut the tape
showed their lord then they raped
prohibited our drums
still, the tracks we make
Utopia's last rebels
knowledge blankets the treble
bumping Jigga, D'evils
but Malcolm once called them devils
for pillaging native land
I man with a turban told me that our circumstance
was certainly something difficult to understand
how bottom boys crawl through struggles
to become men of high rank
only for america to leave us scarred
dishonorable discharge when we say how we do this for community
instead of Franklins, Hamiltons, and Lincolns
I wasn't motivated by presidents til 2009
to understand that is to understand my bloodline
and Black Wallstreet
the Watts Riots
Nat Turner
Nat Turner
the red tape that took our 40 acres
racist Quakers
the makers of this nation never got their portion
the chronicles of a people beautiful as the Harlem Renaissance
ugly as bombing four little girls
influential as Fela
making music that touches the whole world
and heals home at the same time
this bloody bandage on my society
translates as red tape. - Track Name: Gold Shine (Feat. Project Pat)
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(verse 1) – b.ware
Hootie hoo was the phrase, back in Southwest Atlanta, aye!
bumpin’ that southerplay, thumpin’ monkey niggas for they J’s
hustlin’ tusslin’, brain muscle sho’ wasn’t in
rather, who could bust a rim, cussin’, we wasn’t pushin’ pens
Higher Learning ‘bout racist Remis, Forest Gump loved Jenny
uncles drunk off Henny, Halloween, dump them Good & Plentys
d-boys flashed semis, flask-barrel, life wasn’t no gimme
we ain’t know shit about no college, or no fuckin’ Kappa shimmy
so what you want from me? These boys ain’t no dummies
but it’s hard when you hungry, to get used to empty tummy
in school writin’ book summaries, it’s cooler to chase them honeys
yet foolish, you choose… niggas will do murder for that money
that Ghetty-Ghetty Green readily illegal means
when options often obsolete, we lash out, you snuff our dreams
it’s ya boy, b.ware, as these flows materialize
I’ma let my gold shine, I’ma let my gold shine
(Hook 2x) – Project Pat
all playas hustlin’, lemme see ya gold shine
all my playas comin’ up, lemme see ya gold shine
gold rings, gold chains, gold teeth on the grind
lemme see ya gold shine, lemme see ya gold shine
(verse 2) – b.ware
Willin’ champagne to my real friends… waiter
and real pain to my sham friends… straight up
pray Cobain ain’t my future, Don’t Wanna Be A Fool, Luther
and learn from them cougars, so the young girls can’t school bruh
labor, The Free is championing, brandish my pen
and riddle phlegm about my life of candid sin, raised of Manwich and
country wisdom, it ain’t never miss him
but that Ritalin ain’t gone get them young niggas out that white man’s prison
wantin’ more than 40 acres, so I read-double like bassoon player
fuck reparations we’ll never get that
or a plot of land for us to live at, if you plot plans to sit back
throw rocks and hid your hands, we got the gag for your trick-ass
ah! This ain’t Hollywood, it’s south cities to backwoods
projects to boondocks, my country family that’s hood
where they roll and smoke a pound, coke is toted town to town
mosque right next to Heaven Bound, niggas get ya soul found!
(Hook 2x) – Project Pat
(verse 3) – b.ware
yeah, I was ridin’ through the hood pushin’ a Honda Civic
ain’t nobody from my hood that I would ever forget
we was wishin’ to bear fruit, now I’m feelin’ like the last tree
take a walk in my Nikes, get ya dogs off that leash
see a playa stay down like ‘Kast in ‘94
even though The Love went Below, real niggas stay tryna grow
most can’t cope, caps get peeled, no will, nap in a ditch
while me and NoTiQ reinvent the wheel of this south shit
what up, Krit! True rhyme sayer, I’m set to bomb… Jager
meister, maestro the mic, flow, dodge po-po, protect the paper
they cookin’ and crock pottin’, no intention of stoppin’
on top of that coke like froth, the cops is watchin’
raisin’ my apprentices to bare the torch when I’m finished
and, this the beginnin’, a 1080p image
I’m just a young mane havin’ thangs on the grind
I let my gold shine, I’ma let my gold shine
(Hook 4x) – Project Pat - Track Name: CTRT (Cut The Red Tape)
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(verse 1) – b.ware
For starters, cut the red tape
I dedicate mixtape to youngsters, who crime commit to ease hunger
brothers in early 90’s who murdered for Starter
this is my work, word blurt until my lung hurts
word up, past cumulus cloud on sunny day
verses accumulate and pile up at heaven’s gate
ear me, Lord Father, I fear thee
Black people, I Love you dearly, livin’ for day we get it straight
familiar with niggas who die just to levitate
upward mobility denied in present state
I claim-stake to our freedom, want it? Take
legally, but never wait for the pink… we don’t need’em
pledgin’ allegiance to reason, self-thinkin’
U.S. will call it treason, I ain’t for appeasement, believe it
stamped with credence, null of pretense
when you hear this, read dense, I’m fearless
witness my fingerprint, ink and script
this is document meant to stand the test of tock and tick
from Africa to the block you live
from College Park to the top of Egypt’s pyramids
without vision, the people perish
so I illustrate with wordage, they say Love takes courage
still implicate the art, please pair it
commit it to memory post-hearin’ it, regurgitate the verbs you ate
mimic me like parrot, fly like your jean’s zipper
selvedge, Bryan said “b. wear’em selfless”
and they fabricated in that, no seam ripper
walkin’ with Isa in’em, front pocket I got my scissors…
(bridge) – b.ware
to cut the red tape, reiterate
as my pens menstruates ink
instrumental in negatin’ perceptions
that we are minstrel apes, nah
it’s truly in you, you’re great
(repeat) – b.ware
cu-cu-cut-cut the red tape
(talking) – b.ware
b.ware presents… The Red Tape Chronicles
seen through my monocle
this is the chronicles… part 1 - Track Name: Khujo Goodie
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(intro) – b.ware
Birth it and beat it, kill it and grieve it
bury and leave it, hurry retrieve it
the money mislead you, see what that greed do
a dyin’ breed cryin’, “Lord lead our seeds back to you!”
(chorus) – b.ware
unh! Yeah, Grope the money, such a tease
Khujo told me never float in the mainstream
but I lust, the perks when submerged, it’s a curse
gotta trust your heart and your art… it starts…
(verse 1) – b.ware
yeah, off the cutting board
chopped up sentences, submitted to film scores
clear? Dear to the heart’s chores
core strong as earth’s when birthed into this war
of fear… language of lame laymen
poke ya chest, bloated ya inner-force
nah, tainted… blame men for your sores
tame him ‘cause Damiens in his pores
deaf ear, devil is at the level of the city
got’em shifty where the poor stay busy
words once was uplifting, check The Source
man, the magazine clips depict whores
while magazine clips dump, chumps slump to floors
fillin’ morgues, give’em more words to write for
the story’s never boring, keep killin’
forever trapped in a movie but the money moves he
and our children
(chorus 2) – b.ware
Grope the money, such a tease
Khujo told me never float in the mainstream
but I lust, the perks when submerged, it’s a curse
gotta trust your heart and your art…
so, write for the right these jawns for the wrong
hold your head high, it won’t be long
all you can do is try with each and every song
never sell them out, they’ll Love you when you gone
(verse 2) – b.ware
(don’t fall in Love with the shiny things)
I said, even zippers fly, nigga… if you ain’t catch that
then you got a long drive to the green like Phil Mickel
let out a long sigh to my team for my niggas
in the rough and we bogeyed up, I’m tryna eagle
‘cause even zippers fly… I mean inanimate objects soar
so why you deny the gift you was granted for
afforded fortunes yet you orphan your orders, abandon your daughters
for fortresses and more quarters
pour quarts of champagne, order whores in short
dresses, campaigning “ignore the message!”
but we ain’t shit but a message, either blessed or devilish
lull’em to sleep with sedative beats, I cry and I weep
as they die in the streets, mentally, peace Hosni
men’s casualties tallying up, my flesh too is corrupt
so I’m cool, no rush, we the dogs they mush
yeah the tools is us, prove you ain’t touched
nigga what!
(chorus 2) – b.ware
(verse 3) – b.ware
at Magic City he was a Kraft singles tosser, the dimes would often offer
lap dance for free of charge-uh, just to swim in his aura
we’ll call him John Conner ‘cause Terminators did try to off’em
toted a Mossburg pump to keep haters off’em
pushed a black Charger, rhymes were black Chaucer
I mean, Canterbury Tales from the hood, a worthy author
banter wording was always proper, propped up
at the top like Big Poppa once was, kids Loved him like Tonka
to niggas he was 2pac the, government had to ostra-
cize him for his ideas and influence on his peers
it brewed like a beer, then fizzed, God saw his tears
fought the media monster, religious bodies indoctri-
nated his patrons with hatred for him, shakin’ his faith and
patience, he wasn’t proper enough to share their God
but he could reach them Waka Flockas where them preachers can’t
see the horror the fame fosters, my niggas it’ll cost ya
(chorus 2 2x) – b.ware
(don’t fall in Love with the shiny things)
(don’t fall in Love with the shiny things this life can bring) - Track Name: Soul on Ice (Winter)
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(verse 1) - b.ware
yeah... unh, uh-unh...
Heavy letters of bold
fragmented sentences from the etcher of scrolls
wretched and cold (so cold)
can you dig the tales told, mine my mind
it swells with gold… but so cold (so cold)
thoughts impaled on the north pole
while the pale seek control of the whole globe
my #2 spews pure karats, 24
sure, air it, our parents fought through clearances
hope uncouth, youth so arid
little to fair with
so we fiddle with riddles over instrumentals
to free our souls, indeed
but you can see when we breathe (why?)
‘cause we so cold
God, how I bereaved when they took Anthony
became frigid, freed by forgiveness
now I snitch on society, what a witness
the lot of its fallacies…
I’m Lot, sprinting to the Black block from the tyranny
(hook 1) - b.ware
so we think poems, and we sing songs
with our bling on, sellin’ ring tones
pinky rings shown, easily reach domes
in ghetto streets, homes, till they repeat
gone!
(verse 2) - b.ware
but I can show you where the fire sleeps
though we Antarctic-hearted, lungs permafrosted
the arch villains been accosted for the nonsense
hearken for harbingers like drinkers of the hard liquor…
make it simpler, we wanted Love and guidance
got addicts and pimpers
and they blame the young
if we been heathen since teethin’ be believing it’s cause you raised’em
(hook 2) - b.ware
but, since they ain’t raise us, we gotta train us
wake our brains up, hang the pain up
can’t be a lame duck, we are the anchor
this is our aim, bust!
(verse 3) - b.ware
furthermore, I black-al gore it
truth inconvenient, no lenience, you can store it
fools lie… if ignorance is bliss I’m headed for suicide
the globes warmin’, you’re great but in this House you’re all Foreman
and the hospital is so cold, deadly decorum
conflictin’ temperatures with the outdoors
we are The Free… when touring, we go green
Civic sitting with a pro-lean
hosting all our shows mean, whole team
hoping all of our quotings hit your eye like Moe Greene
God Father…
wanna give’em a better view, though they souls froze
in streets where souls crush crack pipes
crack crushes souls, froze, guzzlin’ spirit water
will get your spirit farther from The Father
but we survive the fire, Travis Barker
and we snow cold, I got the space-heater
to warm the race, no fever
me and Sugar-Free, unh!
(singing) - Adrienne Walker
soul so cold… soul so cold
(talking) - Corey P. Henry
Soul on Ice... - Track Name: Zulu Love Letter
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(intro) – b.ware
mmm… Zulu… (yeah), Zulu!
Zulu! This go out to all my niggas in the pen
(my cousin T.A.) the young, the lost forgotten
and ignored (R.I.P. Ant), to all my family
you know what it is nigga!
(verse 1) – b.ware
yeah, yeah
farewell friend, but fuck the judge first
he can’t fathom your reality, how your heart hurts
maybe I can’t either, did I do my part
either watch from afar, send letters or pray hard?
coulda been better, sin kept ya, swept ya away
present a day it seems, back to playin’ us in my dreams
in that little blue house in the deep south, meek me
quietly admiring, and relying on ya street clout
creep with ya heat out, peace ain’t what he be bout
but, hurt people hurt people, brings out the worst in you
when you’re cursed, most can’t see you, world will mislead you
but it’s dark behind them bars, no partial gleam-through
me too, I’m feelin’ lost, peelin’ off
riding with cloudy eyes, this ain’t a final goodbye
this is a “see ya soon,” I’ll be visiting, I’m older now
still wonderin’ if you’re more comfortable in or out
(hook 1) – b.ware
once in awhile I can look at you
(just wanna look at you my nigga)
and see the twinkle in your eyes
zulu love letter, this is family we love better
zulu love letter, we love better…
Zulu! (my whole family) zulu! (my whole family)
zulu! Zulu!
(verse 2) – b.ware
sacrifices, sendin’ up young lives
it’s shots from polices, tots learn what we fightin’
Motts was a luxury, Tampico is what we’d drink
el cheapo, might fuck up a kidney though
yo, them kids need more Love, intimacy illiteracy
plagues mom and poppa, kids need more (Love)
kids knees sore from prayin’, Eddie Long
could it be ya ministries don’t feed us like we need to be
me, the chief rocka, sing our story… opera
glock poppers to doctors all a part of my saga
Mercer to where they’ll murk ya, for ya shirt bruh
but it’s art where I author novel narrative
label we heretics? C’mon, cuz, blood of my blood
now lather with Dove to wash it off of ya gloves
it’s all (Love), even with fear instilled to break our will
I let my pen build
ill at will.
(hook 2) – b.ware
(if we don’t raise our young, who gone do it for us? Know what I’m sayin’?)
zulu love letter, these our kids, love better
zulu love letter, they deserve better…
Zulu! (that’s to the youth) zulu! (I say, that’s to the youth)
zulu! Zulu!
(verse 3) – b.ware
this is strength, my self-defense, walk with a limp
talk like a pimp, never balk, I ain’t a simp
never dreamt I’d be seein’ all this chalk on the strip
all this murder make me yearn for some purp to get blimp
fuck some hemp, that THC the shit, couple hits
of the best and that stress sure to fade like temp
gimme (Love), let me see its remnants
don’t wanna pollute all my gifts addicted to that Shawn Kemp
sniff sniff, hint-hint, the stu… dimly lit
rebuke that dimwittedness, who is you kiddin’ with
this is lyric shit and I pen it to lift my niggas, spirits
more than liquor ever could be credited with
said it when broke, will he say it when rich? yeah
and I put that on my girl like some Reddi-wip, lick!
I’ll never jump ship… like Skip Gates, nigga stay awake!
(hook 3) – b.ware
(and that’s to you handkerchief head-ass niggas)
zulu love letter, fuck cheddar my love’s better
zulu love letter, my loves better…
Zulu! (all my niggas) zulu! (all my niggas)
zulu! Zulu!
(outro) – b.ware
zulu love letter, niggas. Love; no fear. no matter what.
it’s us against us… c’mon! - Track Name: If You Believe
-
(intro) - b.ware
Wherever your heart lies, that’s where you’ll find your treasure…
when you got treasure inside you and try to tell people about’em
seldom will they believe… yeah…
I heard when you set out to pursue your Personal Legend the universe conspires in your favor
when you really desire something and have the courage to go pursue it, the universe conspires to help you…
but you gotta believe niggas… like I believe…
there’s only one way to learn, and that’s through action…
act now… so will I…
(verse 1) - b.ware
Press on... (rpt)
would you believe that I mustered up the strength for it
my competitors playing catch up… i stay hot, dog
no room for the custard, it’s too sweet
sister told me to be frank etcetera… whatever
it’s not a problem, been bubbling since the bottom
she was my Hillary Rodham, but I never cheated
trust was my poison, they say bleed it
or lack thereof, intoxicate me, you are my drug
heaven, i need a hug finna faint is that look of love
since she gave me the boot, lugz
still on a ?uest for it, Square Roots
the rain came quick like a flash flood… i found comfort in the booth
the truth, each of us had to blossom like a tulip or blow
so, like the atom, a split was necessary
left a legacy legendary and with my two lips
I pay tribute to you Ms. Hail
storms came later… Goodfella, I’m a made man
no umbrella, but ice hurts when it’s chugged from up above
and plus the haters throwing tomatoes, when i ain’t even hit the stage, damn
took it in blood like plasma, soon a master for the masses vivid
picture descriptive like a camera, digital flash, look at his mug
centerfold, they livid… Never silent, these choice words is my privilege
no kidding, rated-r, for real, reveal it all
career mirror Paul Revere, pour it on raw like Season All
in the long haul, you can fall from grace but I believe
my agility’s assisted me, watch the tricks up my sleeve
lift it, it’s elbow grease
workin' out kinkos yo, spit, print it, i got infinite ink yo
this for those poor, unclothed, the meek and bros close my folks and distant foes
keep believing
and press on (rpt) - Track Name: Eternal Sunshine (Summer)
-
(chorus) - Adrienne Walker
Eternal Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine
Eternal Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine
Eternal Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine
(sunshine, wating on the sunshine...)
Eternal Sunshine, Ohhhh
(verse 1) - b.ware
Unh, smooth it out, Justice
i need canvas for my brushes... help me paint it
dance if you choose, macarena it
i prefer you chill on couch plushes... smoke a book
drink the knowledge, but sip, these words are slushes
brain freeze if you guzzle it, easy, don't rush it
it ain't a tease, streets is dangerous
the corners live, brothers is fly, with sunshades applied
waiting for eternal sunshine, but
my eyes spy grim beginnings, litigant from sinning
with infinite penitence, but is repentance still forgiven when
it's so evil you're forgetting him
the serum is so lethal your will to win is dwindling
huh, some say Islam is deliverance and Christians some hypocrites
hmmm, well i don't know bruh, but Love is Blacker than my culture, unh!
...Sugar-Free
(bridge) - b.ware
they say we should all know and hold
(and hold)
wisdom for our souls to grow
(to grow)
but we reap all the woe they've sown
(we reap the woe... they've sown)
now driven from our homes we roam
(now... driven from our homes... roam, waitin' fo')
waiting for...
(Chorus) - Adrienne Walker
(verse 2) - b.ware
ah! our minds will never be spotless
the problem is the propagandizes got us hostage
with broken promises, how long will we sit and watch this
hoping we'd be set free from these evils once we Barack'd it... the vote
but it's by design you suffer, brother, real quote
they kill your folks 'cause if you rise they fall, trust each other
heal the ills prevalent in your urban sprawl
shepherd like german dogs these black sheep, and we can build hope
this approach is flax seed, good for heart
my bottom-boys ain't Backstreet, they hood-hard
when it's dark, they packin' heat like thermos
learn-ed with wicked wisdom to get ya to hell's furnace
permanent, learning, i assert
it's sun on the other side, with clean lives
we'll see it's light and let it settle in
preserve the melanin prevalent in ya skin
take oath with kin, till we're one with our origin
like that! ...real rap, baby
(bridge) - b.ware
(chorus) - Adrienne Walker
(waiting fo'... ohh, ohh... waitin fo')
(verse 3) - b.ware
by the way, this here is eternal
discernible words, learn a few
earnest, to my niggas carrying cross
and women behind the nails like cuticle, cue the flutes
my musical from up above to you
there's nothing new under the sun, beautiful
so when like is cumbersome, your faith is cummerbund
who woulda knew they would take, these traps you can escape
hey, never run away, our babies at stake
i wanna awake and see...
(chorus) - Adrienne Walker
(talking) - b.ware
me and my folks, waiting on the sunshine... eternal sunshine... yeah... - Track Name: Where Do We Go From Here (Interlude)
-
WHO'S AFRAID OF THE PUNK POLICE?
DO MY NIGGAS RUN THESE STREETS?
FUCK PEACE! - Track Name: Southside
-
(chorus) – b.ware
Quiet as kept, the best secret yet
southern bred, southern fed, southern check
the best secret yet, quiet as kept
south, suh-southside, yes!
(verse 1) – b.ware
y’all hear that sax don’t ya?
that ain’t John Coltrane
and I ain’t profane in most thangs, no need to ring alarm
but I will pull a Return of the G, enter the scene
like I once left, though I’m introducing
anti-pawn, no shame
meaning no weigh-ins prior to bout, impulse, move ring to the south
gloves off, I am home
while my folks playin, emotions take’em, mood-ring mouths
inconsistent nigga livin… prison visits
extended, give’em game and wisdom, they still scrimmaging
tweak ya imaging, see ain’t no censorin’ b
sensors in-line and I can skate fine
don’t watch if you hate time
with 3 minute rounds my hook and power punch lines make ya recline
no disqualifying when I bite ear, so that you might hear
it’s all spar… nah, spell it in rewind, ah!
(chorus) – b.ware
(verse 2) – b.ware
now, now
now on this journey into unknown, we’re learnin’ how to run home
to permanent furnishings like the beds we used to jump on
and momma hummed them Love songs, I’ma say we was once prone
to llama play, comma, honestly she’s admonish me
to dodge gurneys, “c’mon baby” she’d say, to fervently tourniquet me
a la heroin users, “you shoot?” unh!
burn a spliff, learn a bit, Allah’s bosom, stay in it
for cushion, Perry did say during haircuts to prepare us
for discerning drug abusers, even those who pollute ya
hood, commerce commissioners, capitalists up to no good
they say you should not be rappin’ about this
rather, commercial mainstream when aiming, so niggas would
ignore they fascist practices, maybe we should
quit complaining, they ain’t interested in investing
in hoods, where they hop scotch, and clock on blocks
police fox-trot, and release shots to ki’s and weed spots
hot!
(chorus) – b.ware
(verse 3) – b.ware
and for this team that I rep? so pristine as we step
in any arenas kept exclusive from our troopers
by Ku Klux grand wizards, not Gilbert Arenas
what I mean is we bleed this, and wanna see shifts
in your mental, yeah, keen with the scripts
pencils give you info, we don’t need to be silencio
Mr. Bean you been kept.. speak for ya set
the weak will neglect and call that street shit
but that ain’t street shit, it’s cowardice, no Black Power fist
when we convene, secretly kept, mean, we address
discreetly? Yes, we in jeans, you, a dress/skirt
we in (WE)alth t-shirt, new-era headdress
I digress… how is it now I spit? When several years back
severed from the pack like Lu, who woulda knew
I’d be picked by you, to represent real shit
now witness how I stick, you can’t get rid
of the team, nigga!
(chorus) – b.ware
(talking) – b.ware - Track Name: The Plot Thickens, Pt. 1
-
(hook) – b.ware
Plot, scheme, scam is the tactics of the man
get hot, use fans, stage a coup then scram
you’re a sacrificial lamb, never stutter like flam taps
rudimentary moves, make them understand that
(verse 1) – b.ware
hold up! Glass ceiling? It’s no such
thing as barriers, limits, I don’t Identify with gloaters
humble as Mohandas
my blokes and I, growth inspired by the most-just
while most just bust flow for the dough, rush
plus plush bucket seats in the Rover
roll bucks, throw, flood the floor at Strokers
it’s all a farce like the March on Washington
see them jokers, froze up by the quotes of
b.ware, his steez be Zone-3, see?
King’s ’63 dream was Malcolm’s nightmare
to never let them crackas take you for your porridge like the 3 Bears
and of course, they watchin’ him, only problem
is he taught a lot of men, but they not stopping him
assess the propaganda, process a proper gander
philanthropic topics, unpopular in Atlanta
so, fold bucks… smack ass cheek? Nah, whole butts
trick women, tricks on you, you’re broke as fuck
we peer reachers, y’all cheerleaders… toe touch
leave the bleachers, you niggas divas, Gold Dust
we Rock Maivia, either leave the ring or be the
People’s Champ, regal Sméagol, light is a lamp
so throw shade, it’s nothing, I’m predisposed
to know thangs bout you negroes and how you leader-pose
supposed to down-hold, but you misleading folks
down dead end roads, plus they’re embedded with potholes
I speak of hope, your speech is cloaked, I say, you joke!
or maybe you just full of shit and need to be choked?
neither… it was two of them, three, or maybe four
accompanied by a sea of shook ones, maybe more
a dignitary spoke, said “your obituary’s wrote
we’re looting for your flow, you can shoot it out or go
peaceful” but what they did not know is it was wrote
written, powder-keg in house, wick lit, and…
you can’t put it out, you won’t listen
they still dialed Midland, your worlds ending
the plot thicken!
(hook) – b.ware
Plot, scheme, scam is the tactics of the man
get hot, use fans, stage a coup then scram
you’re a sacrificial lamb, never stutter like flam taps
rudimentary moves, make them understand that - Track Name: The Plot Thickens, Pt. 2
-
(verse 1) – b.ware
Back for the first time, most of y’all niggas ain’t never heard mine
words, lines – cocaína, never
compositions of scarlet letters… arbitrarily better
my cocky doodles do wake up roosters with records
who could be this selective? Fuse the sacred and secular
fuck officials elected, cuh-cuz they don’t want the best for ya
nothing can be expected, nuh-unh, kill the courageous messenger
the people’s favorite Black patriot, the Medgar
they grew up segregated, gated in neighborhoods
thanks to civil rights leaders not thinkin’ bout the greater good
brain food caterer, clean ya plate up, take more to go
closed minds don’t get fed, open ya temporal lobe
temperature cold, tempuras the goal
timpani for dramatics and Tim Burton on the pay roll
mold the schematics like it’s play-doh
this for my niggas I grew up with out in Clay Co.
(hook 1) – b.ware
yo! The plot thickens! (think) the sand quicken! (sink)
the tape skippin! Now niggas can’t listen!
the whole hood terrified! They say he crazy…
but never that he tellin’ lies!
(verse 2) – b.ware
niggas wanna fit in…
I just wanted to roll like Hawaiian bread, you can tell that I been fed
by scholars and the dope mane, like a lion head
Detroit Red was brainwashed, he said, with lye in head
perms lie in heads… some are flat iron pressed
niggas ask am I impressed, I’m like for real?
I like my girl natural, curly naps in heels
…word to Lauryn and peace to Wale Folarin
attention deficits and pessimists, I gotta exorcist
but, Emily Rose flippin, I’m all about deliverance
the bout is mental fitness, see Book of Job
witness to winos and hoes, bros in prison
collegiate niggas with degrees and back-fees to Sallie
Mae, he spark a rally, take a head tally, ooh!
them chickens flew the coup, they knew he wasn’t a spook
who slept by the door, schemin’ on not being poor
made up y’all beds but you fools choose to sleep on the flow
and, oh!
(hook 1) – b.ware
(verse 3) – b.ware
see, my habit of the heart was smart, built me an ark
to sail to safety while watching the world fall apart
just me and my skylark, her heart was Black as tar
therefore she held a passion for my art
the Lois to my Clark—the sun gave me my spark
and when it fell dark, that was when hell would start
we were old as time, yet separated in parts
took vows to reunite in the future if we could beat Lucifer
true enough as it was, the two of us were in Love
but neither would budge, compromise, commit to us
to trust, clutches on a grudge, both out of touch
so recalibration is needed if we can be posturepedic
carnage, Kasady Cletus, bitch and not my venus
all stemming from what they teach us and they teach our teachers
and the TV screens feed us, since we were fetuses
but the fire-floods coming, baby, do it for our kids!
(hook 1) – b.ware
(hook 2) – b.ware
the plot thickens, I got them smitten
the tape rippin’, now niggas wanna listen
we got them devils terrified, they goin’ crazy!
the truth killin’ all the lies!
(verse 4) – b.ware
land… free… plan… flee…
trust… deceit… sellout, no receipt
ghetto… leave… no, stay… plant ya seed
rebuild our families… make our own peace
God… Allah… the difference? You decide
pray, see the lies… Black man, reclaim ya bride
sons… grow… learn… know…
faith… lose it? Live like a coward, stupid
Love… respect.. no fears, no regrets
compassion—the test, pass it my people we’re next
church… mosque… unify, take ya cross
submit… fully… the devil will never fool me
Elijah… Malcolm… Louis… how come
Black scholars and leader hide them, well fuck y’all, I found them
tape… cut… develop… us
expand… mission… the plot… thickens - Track Name: Instrument of Life (Dope)
-
(verse 1) – b.ware
One, two
Its all image and respect which goon you see next
limited to prison system cause he rep’d the streets best
I guess… I hate the hands that hold me
Mold me to a fiend, froze my goals and my dreams
momma told me, its hard for a black man as I
fraternized with trap-guys, practice for a bad life
we so high, nose bleeds of pain
Weak and decrepit veins i crept with my work the same
We knew better, go light, featherweight but who's better:
The drug king or the pusher on the scene?
Hate the peddler, the fiend’s friend, but how’d it begin?
the school's teaching us nothing plus the daddy's in the pen
and the pusher of the pen got ya liking that
lyin in raps to suburban as well as your hood, frat bruh…
they on track for monetary benefits
No Love for music, still runnin from crooked sin and shit
I'm sending this for onlookers of innocence taken
Shakin’ it, breakin’ up my patience
some say it’s hatin’, makin’ it, the rules when I prove
who can make it for sure pure, put it on your tongue, taste it
(hook) – b.ware
That’s that dope (dope)
every note that he spoke (spoke)
quote that he wrote, do that ink read hope?
Take a toke… of the instrument of life
Grown in the nursery, Pike…
(verse 2) – b.ware
I, nocturnal, written at 3:45
in the A.M., hit the kitchen for cream pies
oatmeal, tote steal to the sink
I’m talkin’ food and forks get ya mind outta that street life
No swine, high blood pressure will get ya, right?
it’s such stress… dealin’ with pigs outside
Slide…thinkin’ of that Southside
we used to ride Old Nat’
Listenin’ to King Cole… Nat, at Christmas time
I miss them days, wish they’d re-arrive
We witnessed fading innocence, misfits
lit spliffs, pick cliques, click – BANG! Where they went?
pause… waitin’ on Santa Claus
but the instrument is a gift from God
odd… how they used theirs to write laws
to denature my my forefathers, martyrdom
should I feel hatred for your fathers? they slaughtered them
but maybe what about their sons though?
lookin at my people wonderin why we still poor…
and watch which dope you smoke… take a toke… - Track Name: Fox Kids (Feat. NoTiQ)
-
(verse 1) –b.ware
my younger years…
started with premonition
parted with inhibitions, martyrs marked my mission
charted my ambitions, listen dirty south, hear me shout
b done cleaned up his livin’, my hunger is…
to deliver like bile maker
messages from creator, robotic like Robotnik
with sonic speed, honestly, these tales save ya
bare knuckles, we pound sound, turn your radio up
fuck ratings, unh, we cater to
niggas off Old Nat, they relate to my autobio
see we poor, ask why, though, take off that blind fold
four centuries-plus, and in ’09, in penitentiaries we stuck
fetch answers, Fido, beyond that bible
now who the fuck are you without that weed, greed, and a rifle?
they say “he spiteful, b hates white folks!”
but they ain’t concerned with that Black baby standin’ underneath that light pole
in the middle of the night’s cold
pitiful you won’t notice, should be playin’ Tyco
riding tricycle, this place ain’t like no other
muscular minded marksmen with gats plastic like Tupperware
I mean they brains brawn like Klingon
taught to bang on one another, the self-destructor
yeah, it’s end of day, Cudder… no moon
prayin’ my niggas understand they brother, unh!
(hook 1) – b.ware
Fox kids, fox kids
from the ‘dale to the Park, we’re never monogamous
unless you talkin the A, then aye, we all this
it’s Black theater, and we’re the fox kids
(fox kids) fox kids, we are fox kids
from the ‘dale to the Park, we’re never monogamous
unless you talkin the A, then aye, we all this
it’s Black theater, and we’re the fox kids
(verse 2) - NoTiQ
Bass in it, treble out
Meddle in, home I was settled in
Burbs, I did better in
When food was the medicine
Injected thru residence
It all takes precedence
So here we are
So SFR radio free roscoe
It all comes down to a mantra
Albany to Cobb co
Hone my heart like a Mary Shelley novel
Nigga, I’ma monster
Caffeine drink, tonka
My theme is to conquer
Mezzanine view
Ery’ting red cut, pray your arteries blue
Aint no play play familia
Ain’t shit familiar
To old folks in shanty towns
Negligence, spread around me
I’m so media raised in bright lights
Engaged to a cage, ATLien insight
So bourgeoisie and broke
Photogs amongst the web
Shun niggas down
Chasin the white tip upon its tail
Peachtree nigga
(hook 2) - NoTiQ
Fox Kids, Fox Kids
Franklin Rd to Vinnings, subpar to privileged
I-75 259 I script (uh)
I’m scraped from Albany, Who I’m is
Yuh
Fox Kids, Fox Kids
Franklin Rd to Vinnings, subpar to privileged
I-75 259 I script (uh)
I’m scraped from Albany, Who I’m is
(verse 3) – b.ware
yeah
treble back in the buildin’, maven of millions
Gaye, Save The Children… scalping you pilgrims
me and my Haliwa Saponi homie, what’s goin’ on?
this the last straw, or rigatoni for fuckin’ phonies
you wanna buck? Phone me, I’ll toss a couple dollars
but in this economy that won’t cover your hospital fees
I’m playin’, we southern, so you know it’s hospitable, b
lay your head, Grady got extra beds, Lupe say “Go To Sleep”
prop up ya feet, I’ll apply the I.V.
that’s ill verse, I’ll spit’em a few, two… three
nurse, administer shots from the toolie
full of ink, fool, think, this that word wizardry
and I be, zone 3 SWATS team, CP
Atlanta bama, no manners, never pee where the stool be
bar-hoppin’ for stool pigeons, pull up a seat
and the south still got somethin’ to say, 3-Stacks
I balance beam… clean!
(hook 1) –b.ware
(verse 4) – b.ware
yeah, let me get it back…
Atlanta, this is the red tape annals, been dreamin’ shit since
me and sis wee spoonin’ Danimals, no means to get rich, well equipped
my hands handled manuals, Malcolm exercised devils
said they were cannibals in caves
animalistic—understatement, the way you beat Black bodies
and brainwashed with hatred, a fan of yourself, solely
supposedly superior, taught we to have fear of ya
so much so, I’d shoot my fuckin’ brother ‘fore I think of ya
that deep enough? Weaker stuff get ex-communicated
he’s Black patriot of his city, communicate with
the bottom, asylum dwellers, silent former felons
and war veterans, Hurt Park is they new settlement
niggas steadily peddle, white teens do portabellas
bumpin heavy metal but this is the Black ghetto
this ain’t that place Melrose
another rose from concrete, flaunting my petals
Pete, fix my levels…
Sugar-Free… - Track Name: Slave 2 The Rhythm
-
(hook 1) - b.ware
Slave to the rhythm, unpaid, put my bid in
walk alone, so i bid them farewell
and the page is the prison for the rage that was given
from the pain that we feelin, which i tell...
(verse 1) - b.ware
omit nada
fed from the food of our crib, plus the pork of the pigs, dig?
to get caught up in crookery, red meat lines the stomach killing the good of the
kids of fathers, abandoned
pops never knew Brandon but Pac did cuz he bothered to converse through the hurt
modified this soon-to-be martyr was my curse
a gift from God
very odd, ironic, oxymoronic, even
chronic seasons 365 where i lurk
the lessons, though i peeped them, sowing all the reapings
reaper creepin' to see ya under earth
what, will i learn first? before them church bells get to ringing
cuz them goons perched, looming doom impeding
see what holds true worth, what i'm supposed to do first
walls closing in on you, i can't Samson...
repeating, pops never knew Brandon, props neither
as for Shakur? a teacher
feeder on the flesh of the text of our leaders
i was greater, truth, never fiction like Al-Qaeda
we don't believe you!
(hook 2) - b.ware
i be the slave to the rhythm unpaid put my bid in
left home, had to bid them farewell
and the page became the prison for the rage that was given
from the pain that we feelin, which i tell
(verse 2) - b.ware
creating understanding through conversations with Pooh
held close, i save for you, indubitable
word for the news i spew
shout out to Mercer U., salute to the students who
supported through those that abhorred
been shorted, some snored and snorted
that was my fuel, my boost, or my gummy beary juice
never to fall again
this music i do is my ball and chain, unh!
the bull whip, my welts, but none shall i fear
they want me hung from the snare and sprawled in shame
i crawled from underneath the bang of the beat
free-base, meanin' my release gave me strength for the weak
so they call and i came, high octane
more tame like the Tyson Cus D'Amato trained
and so i live through my peeps, locked in the pen with my speech
behind the bars i maintain mane... slave
(hook 3) - b.ware
i am the slave to the rhythm, unpaid, put my bid in
now i'm gone so i bid you farewell
and the page is the prison for the rage that was given
from the pain that we feelin... i gotta tell
(talking) - b.ware
let me clarify for you niggas what i mean when i say slave... this ain't no mentality shit, it's serving the people. when you do that you tell all. no holding back...
(verse 3) - b.ware
I think i'm Rakim Allah
let the rhytm hit'em, if the music useful, they winnin'
oozin' through every tendon, you'll lose it too, just listen
it's that tension in'em, censor us, niggas erupt
i cuss cuz i'm in touch with what it's like when life's fucked
my Adel lady said, bay, they need to hear it
don't let your inner-fear and shit, be your interference
and that's an integral tip when cyclical living could bring our ending
the final hours ending, no OT
so we dodge Opie, Andy and Barney Fife, i've seen harder nights
audited the audio, altered it for my awkward hype
had a nigga shook like Drake without 40, day and night
now i know i'm God-sent, survived rain 40 days and nights
b and Christ be quite alike, tempted 40 days and nights
plus i serve the poor who guzzle 40's day and night
that's 80 days of pain, no engineer in sight and a bum liver
nigga, b.ware i'm nothin' nice call me
(hook 4) - b.ware
the slave to the rhythm, everyday, put my bid in
fuck a throne, tell a critic go to hell
cuz the page is my prison from the rage that we live in
from the pain that my niggas feelin... i'll always tell
(outro) - b.ware
this for my Black Nation, avoiding the Perry Mason and that long vacation...
for my college fam, hoping to get that plot of land, remember the common man
this for my lady sippin' crushed grapes, listening to that red tape
cut the red tape... cut that red tape... yeah... - Track Name: Autumn Come (The Fall)
- just listen y'all... no reading. just listen.
- Track Name: While You Were Sleep
-
STAY WOKE!
This blood gone remake me
miss Love, we hate we
This thug woke up early
grave dug while you were sleep
STAY WOKE!
