Nerd Eyes

by K-Rad

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credits

released September 26, 2015

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about

K-Rad Seattle, Washington

I compose beats. I write poetry. I got rhythm. I sweat energy. I inhale deep then spit fire. I make hip-hop.

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Track Name: Volcanic
Hello! I've got a paper mache vision,
of black and blue lines beaten with some revision.
Proficient as possible, pistons unpausable,
an engine unstoppable, been living that rock and roll life
as I balance the chalice with talents.
This college rules ride and these college ruled lines.
So excuse my excuse on the abuse of time,
I've been using these hours to stay true to 'Outliers'.
But I jumped off the trail, explored the nature
of the board, frequencies and frequently ragers.
Venting the stress between two jobs and school,
it's that debit and credit grind and night life booze.
But I'm back in the tracks and attacking the booth.
Missed this since I got a taste to spit truth.
The business of synth riffs, hat hits, pads too,
my band on stage in six dollar plaid suits.

[HOOK]
Rad. I am Mt. St. Helens like
"Damn, you finally ready to explode Kellan?"
Tell em' "Yeah, I think it's time I let loose.
I think it's time I got free with the records groove" like
Boom. I make it so volcanic and
soon people will be calling me a manic but
Why? It's cuz I make it magmatic.
I rock with molten flow now you all in a panic.

Got some body bagged eyes from sleep starvation.
Tortured with the guilt of lacking inspiration.
So many days spent content-less in pages,
so many pointless songs, so many pens wasted.
Thinking "You better face it,
you ain't a writer, dog,
you've writing so much shit,
pretending what your not."
But now the naysayers dead,
and the page slayer's reborn.
I'm a renaissance man with poems ready to record.
Folklore? Ha, not even in my repertoire.
The only fiction in my diction's writing the core.
Strike a chord and a match with some gasoline.
I'm 'bout to blow up each track
and beef it up with some creatine.
So thank you for your patience.
I hope that you were waiting.
I hope that you were pacing the floor anticipating
The invasion of phrases, cadences, 808 bases
laced with some traces of ragin' to leave you speechless and brainless.
Yah.

[HOOK] x2
Track Name: Bite the Bullet
Quarter before one with a quarter in the blunt,
a dime left to grind, and a penny for my thoughts.
A dollar in the bank,
working that minimum wage,
at least I'm getting paid,
but at a restaurant I hate.
I digress into faceless, fame-less, entertainers,
but I'm a breakaway a big break so I'm famous.
The type of fame that to any girl I can say
"Hey Miss,
you know who I am, let's get naked and steal some bases."
Ha! Kind of clowning at the same time kind of not.
Sometimes I write pure flow and it'll make your brain rot.
No politics and not a lot of logic or knowledge, bitch
Just similar syllables, would you think I'm a college kid?
But don't think. Step back and let it be.
Hypnotic hip-hop with the need to breathe deep.
Let your muscles sink away like the tide on the beach,
close your eyes and drift asleep when I count of to three.
It goes 1, 2 ,3.

Ghosts, memories, nostalgia and some history,
misery and ecstasy, bitches, lovers, friends and fiends.
Ok, I've highlights in my life
I've had times sublime, kinds of highs real,
surreal from wine and pipes.
But nevermind,
cuz I've got some skeletons too.
Buried in my closet, rotten in their eye sockets
from what they've viewed
in bruised inner skins of limbs and guns
my soul and stuff, heart and blood,
lub, dub, pumping out some love.
Wait. Oh wait, I mean hate:
the devils' favorite drink.
Cocktail of being broke, broken hearted and lack of faith.
A rack and an eighth pays the tax on my pain
I keep saying that I'm waiting for a girl
who can rock my world,
who doesn't like to quarrel,
and keeps my brow un-furrowed.
But it looks like, I'm quite alone tonight
I surmised my night would be this girl that I like,
but she's a bitch, so is life,
that's that bullet I bite..right?

Squares bleed into poetry on this graph paper,
as arithmetic rhythms just slither through the meter.
Unorthodox hip-hop styles that you savor,
this caper's for the haters who say I'm a name taker.
This rapper's kind of Quaker so no war for me, homie,
I'll respond with diss with quick logic, no fists to be
thrown. I've grown out of tantrums so if need be
I'll flow from my dome, wreck them with vernacular gold.
It's so cold. So raw, and so fresh
sounds like sound salmon just caught form the Northwest.
Sounds like the best mess of syllables and synths,
and since you heard this you got the evidence.
I'm just doing what moves me, excuse me,
if your bothered how my mother taught me how to live.
Can't say it verbatim but I'm pretty sure she said,
"Flip the bird to the critics, son, live your life instead."
Like 1, 2 ,3.
Track Name: Why Cuz I Can
I had my back pack, packed stash, zig zags, bagged hash,
that grass snagged by the door man at the dance, damn.
I mean it was the first week of college,
back in George Orwell's 84, on campo's watch list.
I guess I was sinning cause they sent me to the clinic,
I guess I was ripping my degree up with knives in the kitchen,
I guess it was addicting, at least I was given the power to quit it!
[wait, wait, really?]
But I'm just bullshitting.
Months flew by and my care was high up in the air,
I was above their line of sight when they glared.
Should have stared them straight in the eye and said
"Would you spare the lecture about the nectar
in my grape flavored flare?"
You got a creed, I respect that, and I love you.
But you ain't above me, and me? I ain't above you.
Set the dove loose and let peace fly over hamilton,
I swear I'm not just babbling so change the way you handle it.

[HOOK]
So tonight put your fingers to the sky
Chuck the deuces to the world, cuz it's time to say bye
Why? Cuz I can
Why? Cuz I can
Why? Cuz I can
Why? Cuz I can
They bringing you down saying "You don't have a chance."
Try to put in me in my place? Man, I got other plans.
Why? Cuz I can
Why? Cuz I can
Why? Cuz I can
Why? Cuz I can

[You know what else really pisses me off?]
And people be like,
"Why is this kid rapping? I mean,
his beat is cool, but his verse is kind of lacking.
Where's the hash tag rhymes? Why is he backpacking?
All I want to hear about is bitches, drugs, and bill stacking!"
But, what if I told you I'm just being myself,
bleeding inkwells, scripting to tell, not sell.
What if I gel with original comps?
I got a keyboard, a guitar, some mics, a bass to drop.
Don't chop that much,
screwing with hip-hop and rock.
Influenced by Blink, and FOB,
K. Dot, Geo and Sabz.
Caught between genres, I ain't generic.
These haters busting out their thread and needle when I tear it.
Hating cuz I'm painting and this art is shaking cages
changing the same arrangements that we've been hearing for ages.
So I'mma set it loose, start mutating, and make it rad.
And when you ask why I'mma say cuz I can.

[HOOK]

Not a greaser rebel who revels without a cause.
My fly leather jacket's bagging and tagging my boss.
Instructions ain't how I function at all.
Lego sets told me shacks but I made Taj Mahals.
Take a pop beat then grab it by the throat,
go throw in the dirt, footrest for my throne.
I coax clever metaphors that no one's thought of before
to own the instrumental so your mental's never bored.
I can and I plan to be the man,
my hype man, and my band are the best of the land.
And my dad and my fans are the reason I stand
a titan who holds mic stands like a champ.
I never really rolled to Rosecrans in a van,
I never held a chopper for means of killing man.
But I still got the skills who call for a little bragging,
You taught me that Seattle, sorry I've been Gonzagan.

[HOOK] x2
Track Name: Too Cool for School (Feat. Matty V)
[K-Rad]
She loves life cuz she writes the rules,
frequently flipping birds to all the preps in school.
She don't need a Northface or a Juicy coat,
she ain't dripping in makeup on the cover of Vogue.
She's kind of cool, kind of hated and outspoken.
The other girls all think she must be broken,
think's she broke and a Spokie from Spokane,
so the boys won't admit they all think she's smokin'.
Doing life realer than Decartes
I think therefor I am braver than Braveheart.
Stop photoshop rich bitch digital fake art,
her photos are on film developed at the Kmart.
And they poke fun cuz they don't know what she does
And they soak sun hoping the boys will see 'em,
stick out like an orange eye sore can't ignore the soar thumb.
Tryna be the one looking like everyone?
Dumb.

I guess she's too cool for school.

[HOOK]
Break free
All these walkways keep stalking me
So crazy
I'mma gonna be how I'm meant to be.
Too cool for school and too cool for you,
rewriting the rules and got nothing to lose so.
Break Free,
I'mma gonna be how I'm meant to be.

[Matty V]


[HOOK]

[K-Rad]
He got threads but they hanging off his jeans,
and they hanging off his waist cuz he got his belt free.
Tryna look clean cut but the razor ain't easy,
his neck's looking red and it's patched with TP.
He ain't sleezy, but there's no guaranteeing
he'll be buying some Nike's when he's paid on the 15th.
He'll settle with the kicks he got when he was 15,
He'll settle with the kicks he got for like 15.
Walking like Gucci, man you should see him,
I ain't never seen swag like that since the mirror,
and he's artsy like the Fuher but ain't into genocide
'less you mean killing beats in his spare time.
And he's leading like De Vinci, painting a new scene,
rocking mismatched socks under shoes he's been creasing.
But you don't question someone like an emporer,
Say he was walking around naked he'd look flyer than Ye.
So he don't material to show that he's paid,
the grease on his shirt shows he works every day,
his attire is brave so he gets all the asses.
Clothes from Costco, and did I mention the glasses?
Yah.

[Hook]
Track Name: The Dump (Feat. CGT, Nomad & Nicky P)
[K-Rad]
I got a wretched perspective but it's a blessing ,
you betcha bottom buck and breaking beats
because of blind as bat perception.
Ears got jealous of the sun,
I stared at when I was young,
so they grew larger than life,
then heard how to drop it dumb-oh.

[CGT]

[Nomad]
I come from East to West on yet another Nomadic Quest
Sent by K-Rad, king of the court, just to be yalls' jester
To please the peeps with a style of hybridity -
Spittin' rivers of fluidity with CGT an Nicky P.

[Nicky P]
Got a rhythm to bounce to and a bass line with some funk
Check the rhyme and check yourself, yo, this jams the Dump
And your feeling like your arms, your legs, your hips are flying away
Trust that feeling, lose control, get it girl, you're A OK

[CGT]

[K-Rad]
These beautiful syllables make we un-fuck-with-able,
and my wit is gold so I'm unforgettable.
Kill 'em when I'm spitting cold, microphone's an icicle,
abdominal in the snow, man, this Yeti's ready go.

[BRIDGE]
I'mma bout to dump my brain out, brain out.
Cranium breakdown, breakdown.
I'mma bout to dump my brain out, brain out.
Cranium. Ok now, make it loud.

[Nomad]
Jay walking, walking across the street
with a J in my pocket. I'm walking to the moon.
Down from Spokane, where things get broken into,
Like a horse stepping into new shoes, I crush him up - I produce that new glue.

[CGT]

[K-Rad]
Scoring this life while I'm scoring on the trite
maggots or mites that write rotten, repetitive
Well I'm fresher than the sweater found in Cosby's closet.
My hook's schooling you like it's hook's on phonics, you got it?

[Nicky P]
And I'm feeling like a man on a mission
Got some friends, some drink, and some smoke,
and some people to listen
Gonna bend these bars, like I'm escaping from prison
Cause with rhymes like these, there's no asking for permission, c'mon!

[CGT]


[Bridge]

[Nicky P]
I guess I laugh so I don't stress out
Bop my head so I don't black out
Body and soul got me feelin gooood, Cascadia bitch gonna turn it up loud
Hear my sound, hear my lyrics,
Keep shit clear cause it's our song
Critique analyze, I don't fear it
Cause it's stuck in your head all damn day long

[Nomad]
I beat off... to the beats that are off.
Creation of elation, I burn the verse like a molotov
Yeah, I know, I rock that funky alabaster
But I'm spittin' hurricanes out, I am a natural disaster.
Track Name: Don't Sleep on the Hyphen
I scribble so fast my pen's like a katana,
cutting up the beef I serve like working at benihana.
Pages bleeding black cuz my inside are open,
my guts out on the page, it's my style of coping.
Moping with poetry, go ahead, call me a bitch,
call me any politically incorrect term you prick.
Shit, I'm guilty of it too, I'm only human,
still want to further humanity but sometimes play it stupid.
Serious and furious, funny and loud.
Bob Saget's real stand-up on the set of Full House
Bruised like a banana bust still funny to slip on.
"You've been a drunk mess, Kellan, cuz you've been getting your flip on."
Behind bars like I'm too young to get in,
so some nights I spend at home just writing some rhythms.
But fidget my fingers with no pen and no pad,
at those times I wonder why that I even have hands.
Got glasses like Erkle but I'm still a cool cat,
fuck that, I'm kind of clumsy like "did I do that?"
Fresh clothes? Forget it
Don't have the best etiquette
Eccentric on a good day but usually the head of dicks.
Wrong side of the bed again I'm so dehydrated.
Handover's a no brainer but why the fuck am I naked?
Oh, that's right, sangria, last night was two shades:
First black, then saw the light--can't believe I woke today.
So,

[Hook]
Who am I? I'm an introverted guy.
K-Rad's just a name that let's me hide from the shy.
Who am I? I'm anxiety on the rise.
Smart and crazy, the hyphen links both sides.
So, who am I? I'm an introverted guy.
K-Rad's just a name that let's me hide from the shy.
Who am I? I'm a dude with nerd eyes.
Smart and crazy, the hyphen links both sides.

God, I'm bored in class,
sound like a spoiled brat,
good thing these student loans go to writing my raps.
Hand in my term paper, hey, at least I did it.
Last night's rough draft but that ain't where my grit is.
Find me in the kitchen mixing music from scratch,
but even when I finish usually it's thrown in the trash.
That's the catch.
Everything ain't good enough.
Gordon Ramsay's in my head and he won't just shut the fuck up.
Another nightmare that I'm late to get to work,
then the alarm goes off and I realize reality's much worse.
Gotta get my morning perk or else I'm pretty useless,
addicted to those beans so I don't get self-abusing.
Addicted to caffeine, gotta love them stimulants.
Gotta love them cigarettes when I'm too drunk for the ambulance.
God is a spliff on the back porch of my house,
seven minute conversations with whoever's around.
That's who I am, how I exist, got a problem with it?
Turn off my shit, and go listen to Hieroglyphics.
Get some insight if my thoughts on life are pretty boring
despite that chorus in 'Oh! She Said' you're adoring.
Once I start touring my problems will come with
At least they'll disappear while in front of an audience.
Remember to bring a poncho, I'm pretty messy when I spit.
I'm Kellan Faker-Boyle, don't sleep on the hyphen.
Cuz,

[HOOK]
Track Name: She's Acid
Confidence is a funny little thing.
It used to be big 'til this bitch riddled me.
Silly ol' me, reading between the winks,
thinking I know what she thinks
as she sinks her teeth into my pink.
Spitting venom like I'm spitting ink.
Hello? Poison control do supply shrinks?
Hell no? Ok bye.
I guess I'll just lie in bed waiting to die.
Need to get some shut eye, my eyes are getting red
Got sheep to count cuz it's gone over my head,
worry in bed.
Tore me to shreds.
It's this sort of torment's my butter and bread,
and once again I read too much into it.
Is she really this cold or just Inuit?
Last week she grabbed thighs and loved to giggle,
this week she acts shy but rubs her nipples.
So,

[HOOK[
I can't get out of my head,
I've got her under my skin.
My veins are crawling with ticks.
Imaginary but it's still kind of scary.
Hellucinating these facts.
She's acid she's like five tabs.
I'm frying, soon to go mad.
But I'm still waiting.
I'm still waiting.

Last weekend was a mess.
Weak in the knees for some sex,
sneaking a freak in a tight black dress,
fishnets on legs of your best friends' ex.
And I guess I could blame the alcohol,
and I could blame her for grabbing on my balls,
and I could tell my friend,
look him in the eyes, apologize,
but it'd do nothing at all.
"Geez Rad, didn't you hear?
Bros before hoes.
Egad, your ego decided to forgo that
when you twist off the fifths top
and zipped off your pants!"
Ok, ok, I'm sorry
Callin' her up to say "It's over"
as my penis is bawling it prays
that next time I fade
it turns off my brain
and what's made
is another mistake
I'm afraid.

[HOOK]
Track Name: Wide Eyed Cherubs
I'm euphoria
I'm a warrior
I'm aurora borealis, yeah I'm glorious.
But if I'm boring ya, with all these stories of
me, myself, and I then I'll tell you 'bout Gloria.
Before she, uh, lost it I guess,
she was a rich ass girl who never had much sex,
wearing a white dress, Sundays were the best.
Graduating now, but still chained to the desk,
so that night she took off the bullet proof vest,
took some shots just to meet some friends.
She learned how booze was a means to an end,
learned how to get with the dude whippin' a Benz.
Hot boxed with a shock top lickin' the vodka
off a cock and gettin' painted like Bob Ross.
Ga-ga, bad romance in the back of a hot rod.
I call that a hangover, god damn.

[HOOK]
The clean, the nourished,
the lucky who flourish,
Cherubs turn nervous in the dark.
Too good for too long
and wanting to be wrong,
and restless,
wide eyed for the guest list.
[HOOK]

Mouth dry like an ash tray,
sun rays wake her up to colors bathed in gray.
Procrastinate another job application,
keeps her resume down in her mom's basement.
Two years ago she flunked her first quarter,
Greek life was the life, got all the drugs for her.
College without knowledge, too good to be true,
lived in a fantasy picking magic mushrooms,
and soon her glasses weren't for whiteboards.
Sparked her reds with her specs just like a fly lord,
like a savage who's adage was 'IDGAF',
well I think that's fine if it's said between laughs,
but Gloria was adoring the pouring of rain,
whoring her name as the queen of rage.
Coming from a family holy and blessed,
look how far you've came since smoking that resin.

[HOOK] x2

1, 2 steps out of that cave
3, 4, just to get a little taste
5, 6, "damn, what have I missed"
7, 8, the cherub experiments.

1, 2 steps out of that cave
3, 4, just to get a little taste
5, 6, "damn, what have I missed"
7, 8, the cherub experiments.

1, too many times on the floor,
3, 4, the war to explore,
5, 6 letters on the guest list,
7, 8, just to feel she exists.

1, too many times on the floor,
3, 4, the war to explore,
5, 6 letters on the guest list,
7, 8, just to feel she exists.

Gloria never OD'd from the codeine,
from the coke or by the means of amphetamines,
but she traded her dreams for nights of idle pleasures,
faded to the scene where the now is much better.
The feathered line between the slope and the slip,
when you're numb you don't know you've lost your grip.
Coming down off the cliff and she'll never reach the summit,
when you learn the experience but never learn from it.

[HOOK]

The clean, the nourished,
Gloria's graduation night.
Naive and ready to die,
head first to the sky.
Reckless wide eyed cherubs.
Track Name: In Fact, You're Alive
Ya,
when I pass through,
ever get the feeling everyone is watching you?
Can't hear much, tunes turned up.
Ear buds are hugging me, loving me as I strut
bumping cuts. Wave hello, say the words.
Maybe nod 'what's up', but the truth is
I don't give enough, not even a single fuck.
Maybe introverted like I murdered a social occurrence,
maybe only fervent of some pertinent persons. Ya.
I'm cursed, can't read me.
I'm cursive, the pen's bleeding.
Unapproachable like you smoked a bowl,
like mutilated muted is your goal.
Shy, quiet, rhyme in silence.
Goin down as a pen, and I'm a pilot,
and I'm kind of in my mind kind of hidin'.
You say "KFB, F that.
You're a funny punk, you know that's a fact.
You're like Seinfeld, what's up with that?
You ain't depressed, you just overreact."
Well, maybe that's true.
Maybe chemicals in my soul are filled with coal,
growing old fast. You a whipper snap,
yellin' at kids to get off my grass
that I pack into snaps or a spliff that I pass
to the left, wait a sec that's still me.
Couldn't be.
I thought my friends were here but that was just the beat.
I thought my friends were here but that was just the beat.

[HOOK]
So look me in the eyes,
and tell me "surpise, in fact, you're alive.
in fact you never died, that was a lie.
Get out of the pit cuz it's time to rise."
So grab my hands and pull
time to make some gold
I've written a verse cold,
enriching my mind with this shit makes me whole,
makes me complete and whole.

And people won't admit that their clinical
cuz we all know that people are hella critical.
Gonna look you in the eyes and call you cynical,
"Just get over it, you'll never reach your pinnacle.
Cheer up, Bro! Stop being so pitiful.
If nothing's wrong at all why you acting invisible?"
What if I told you this is umbilical?
Hear my syllables:
imbalanced chemicals.
Not as crazy as Slim, not criminal.
Not overreaction, don't need Benadryl,
just time to chill and kick it atypical.
Put the beat on loop, cyclical.
Get whimsical with the quill is how I deal.
If you need a pill that's fine
when it's replacing the knife.
Maybe get physical,
hop on the elliptical,
maybe go to church,
if you like being biblical.
If you need advice, analytical ain't the way to go
if you're trapped inside of that citadel,
trapped inside your mind
dwelling on the times that you missed the boat.
Why your life sucks, getting empirical.
Add up your bad times, now you're getting statistical.
Falling in the pit and it's subliminal.
Lash out to your friends, now you're getting inimical.
Thinking the hope's gone and it's unequivocal,
asking God "why me? why do you ridicule?"
It's a riddle for most so we're all very quizzical,
know you're not alone though we all individuals.
Let the people know this shit ain't minimal,
call bullshit if they sayin' that it's mythical.
And try your hardest to fight back,
believe me, I know that it's difficult.

[HOOK] x2
Track Name: A Bitch, Don't Kill My Vibe Cover (Feat. Maggie Fischer)
I am a sinner who's probably gonna sin again
Lord forgive me, Lord forgive me things I don't understand
Sometimes I need to be alone
Bitch don't kill my vibe, bitch don't kill my vibe
I can feel your energy from two planets away

Now there's a party at my pad but I'm posted in my room,
with just the right mix in with right amount of booze.
And I'll try to do the cover justice and start busting out lines,
better trust in my pen, it's got it's own mind.
But fuck invisible binds, I'm only tied to my vibe.
So this my life, as a scribe, ain't no need to check the rhyme,
got my tribe to back me on stage killing back beats.
Been known to freestyle but right now I'm not in the backseat.
I'm steering, cursing, road rage, swerving
off the road the deep dead in so mom's worrying.
I can't blame her though, she know's no one has a map.
Was lost some time ago at an age when I started to rap.
Was saying "Fuck a job," I wanted an agent but the fact is
50K in debt I'm at a loss to pay them back, shit.
Long as I'm not a domesticated fat cat,
I can wear my whiskers how I want,
mohawk mane just to match.
Drum breaks on lunch breaks,
write for hours on a punch card.
Clock into the rhythms and tick-tock to the next bar.
This Bic talks encrypted, deciphered I'm depicted
a suburb spittin', smiling figure,
beneath the mask I grimace.
Give it up if you feel this way, and there ain't no need to shame.
Shape up, let's circle up, and cipher till we're saved.
Let's converse about paths we've walked
in converse with socks like polka dots,
I'm talkin' holes in souls we've rocked.
Said we got voids we bridge with lovers
and voids we fill with vices,
but my favorite voids you can't avoid
and learn to live life with.
You can grip the scythe how death holds it tight,
but I'll be damned to hell if you ever kill my vibe.
Singin,

[HOOK]
I am a sinner who's probably gonna sin again
Lord forgive me, Lord forgive me things I don't understand
Sometimes I need to be alone
Bitch don't kill my vibe, bitch don't kill my vibe
I can feel your energy from two planets away
I got my drink, I got my music
I would share it but today I'm yelling
Bitch don't kill my vibe, bitch don't kill my vibe
Bitch don't kill my vibe, bitch don't kill my vibe

Wrote a dozen verses to this tryna' be someone else,
might be the hardest thing to only be yourself.
Trying to find a voice that stills the air as it echos,
a tongue that's never tied to the fear of being novel.
Now ain't that ironic when you judge it on a cover?
Go flip through these pages like books assigned to you for summer,
but I flipped it full 180 like the mix I did of cudder's,
and I flipped it on it's head like 69 from you mother.
Still K R D, whoops for the got the A and -
well no I'm not perfect but I'm complete with the A-.
Can't all touch like Midas but I can work like a miner,
dig in my soul, scrap some gold, get my fill till I'm full.
Rinse and repeat every season till my fingers be bleeding.
Take a break at the solstice and like the breeze I start breathing.
Be immersed in Springs, Summers, Winters, till I fall,
but like the Autumn leaves it's just a break and naturally beautiful.
No matter the forces Mother Nature quakes at me,
and no crack big enough to swallow 88 piano keys.
No matter the grains Father Time is droppin' quick,
ain't enough sand in the Sahara to ever dry up my wit.
If it don't get published, if people don't love it, you can shove it,
I'm above it, give a fuck if they fuckin' with it.
Already learned that my school ain't got a lot of heads,
but that doesn't taint the love I paint from,
colors infrared just to measure my heat,
so if you can't see,
instead you need to read the words from the specs,
and savor poetry put on paper--how I introspect,
and inspect what a life looks like without regret.
Don't kill my vibe.

[HOOK]
Track Name: Parking Lots
My windshield's seen a lot of shit,
meanwhile I haven't cuz I've barely cleaned it.
Let's see, shift into reverse
to remember teen kids pre spliffs, post bong rips.
Sophomore, 16, handed from dad, to sis, to me,
assisting in speed with pistons breaking sweats.
Didn't pay for gas yet, take a blunt cruise,
to be be blunt with you this cruise's to get booze
on the island I grew back in highschool.
Broin' out int he car cuz there's nothing to do.
Playing tunes with the EQ maxing out the bass,
roll into campus, make everyone scrunch face.
Ok, gawk and awe in the parking lot
while I park in my spot ya'll start to talk,
like "Oh my god, becky, look at what he's revving.
Evergreen license plate look at what he's repping"

[HOOK]
My car's a hiding spot for getting high in parking lots.
My car's so McFly, Delorean take me back in time.
Under shades of pine it's a shade of black,
I'mma improvise, how I started to rap.
She said "It wreaks of dope."
Please don't take away the car mom, I swear I don't smoke.

Pop in cassettes with the wire hangin' out,
iPod, my best friend, bumping Del hella loud.
It's a prerequisite if you wanna get picked
up in this whip that you dig jams I kick.
Ditch fifth period, get a fifth, I'm serious.
Zip to the park, throw the disc and cheers to this.
Raise your glasses
to skippin' classes,
gettin' asses,
hopin' senior year-you passed it.
Driving drunk home, that was hella whack man.
It was the ego on another upperclassman.
Stop by the church to cipher for a bit,
you pack the bowl, beat box, and I'll spit.
Hot box this bitch till the smoke is way too thick,
till I can't see shit. Quick! Where is the Bic?
Lost like guitar picks, I think I dropped it
between the seat and the console,
we called it the abyss in

[HOOK]

Photo album on wheels,
every mile's a story.
Nostalgic's how I feel but I'll try not to be corny.
Got CDs still in it, still spinnin'
from friends who were burnin' 'em,
haven't heard from them in a while, man.
Next time I go home I'll have them pile in,
start whilin', laugh at all the times when
we were so dumb, so stupid, so fun,
so foolish, a bunch of hooligans.
I bet you got cronies back home the same,
the ones who saw become who you became,
the ones who know both your parents' names
from the days you'd sneak out when the moon came to play.
Keep the engine off, roll her out slowly
to the street, turn the keys, let's get going.
Blow my abode, get this show on the road,
and I'mma follow my headlights wherever they go from

[HOOK]
Track Name: You Don't Know (Feat. DFB)
Waiting at the airport, girls and boys
wait to go back home, their domes destroyed.
The weights been lifted, last night they kicked it hard,
celebrating that finals ended.
Damn. Finally outta my cage.
Dorm life small, time to get away
from my roommates who are great
but at the same time are the kind of guys
who don't mind a life in a public spotlight
when I'm just trying to write in silence.
At my desk hidin' in private,
and I kinda like it.
Rhythm lost and I'm tryna find it,
and I'm so out of it.
Hungover. And it's a shame,
I didn't even notice they've opened the gate.
Seeing people run off the plan,
seeing the look of relief overcome their face.
They're back.
And I can relate.
5 hours, I'm at Seatac for a night cap,
stress in my bones and I need to relax so
the day I don't worry is the day I'm back home.

[HOOK]
You don't know where I'm from
and I'm not sure where you're from.
Let's cut ties, cross state lines,
I'll be back in some time.
I might drive, you might fly,
some won't leave, some won't come back.
You don't know.
You don't know.

Comin' down, altitude's dropping.
Fly off the plane and this dude is rockin'
a parka in the rain that I'm part of.
Sounds of a pitta-patta, sounds like a cinematic blockbuster,
killing lackluster.
I reach for the pen and I'm like "me gusta."
Awakening like a rooster at dawn,
I'm on my shit and the cab has stopped
and I drop and put my head to the ground.
Kiss the pavement in front of my house.
Trudge to my bed, lay my head, time to rest--wait,
fuck that I'mma hit up my friends it goes
"Yo, what's going on? I just got back and I'm tryna go get gone.
I'll meet you on Fauntleroy way,
next to the dock cuz some things change, ay"

I've come a long way
can we just use this time to chill?

Let's chill, I leave in month.
Let's kill time with a gun.
Hold December hostage for fun,
go hard on New Years like we're on the run, son!

[HOOK] x2
Track Name: Nerd Eyes
[HOOK]
Focus focus,
four eyes is how I wrote this.
Notice notice
how ambition is how to cope with
wishing wishing you can see success
these specs can't be fucked with, see?
Now you can't fuck with me.

I got dream so big they could fall from heaven,
smack me down to hell "Waddup Kellan,"
whispered Lucifer in my ear,
"You ever think you'd end up down here?"
Nightmares. My hair slick with sweat,
that mirror said "you ain't no threat
to the game, your grave will read
RIP: Some MC we'll forget."
Smashed the glass, and fucked the odds.
Got them pregnant but I birthed a god.
He walks this Earth, his name is Ra,
and all the pyramids are all his songs.
Talking 'bout fearing the future, be a loser,
fuck that Psychic she's a boozer.
She's so drunk on doubt,
telling people they already have a route.
So I didn't pay her a piece of my mind,
two cents ain't worth my time,
put it towards my grind, save up.
Invest in rhymes so one day you'll pay up.
But I ain't stunting for the money,
maybe just for the honeys,
maybe someday playboy bunnies,
maybe to recognized -- I mean idolized for my cunning,
for my Semper Fi strung out lines ya'll are coveting.
My show's are like my sex, so I know you're coming.
To show I don't do bunting, I'm at bat then I'm home running.
Running train on the tracks, and I ain't stopping.
I'm on top and ya'll are nothing.

[HOOK]

Vic Firth in the hand since birthed to the land,
drum roll please, kick drum, then flam.
Full of drum fills, full of myself,
famished still, no size to my belt.
Picked up the pickups, the pick and the axe.
Mined for the skills that Cuomo has.
Slo-mo to fast, I passed the class
cuz I learned first hand with my foot on the gas.
Going at a max when I stopped dead in my tracks
when I rammed to the fact of the matter
that when I sing every pitch is scattered.
Oh well, just another dream shattered.
"Still got lyrics," the adolescent though,
"And people should hear it from um..hip-hop."
Good god.
Pensive Apocalypse was brought to the table
and "Alphabetacal" labeled the able, unstable K-Rod,
I mean K-Rad.
Hey mom! Hey dad! My brain's gone bad.
Gone sad, gone mad, gone bombed,
Baghdad? Fuck that.
Despite when I woo with banter, I'm stag,
despite these huge antlers.
Gone back to the lab with test tubes in hands.
Fuck with reactions when I spit it acidic,
you want a solution but I ain't gonna solvent.
Brain chemistry whack, so I'm gonna need to solve it.
But first, I'mma hit it big rapping hella quick,
faster than the stig, blowing up the gigs
and then I'll say "I called it."

[HOOK] x2
You are a no one, don't fuck with me, don't fuck with me.
You are a no one, don't fuck with me, don't fuck with me.
Ya.

I can't stop now.
Already begun.
Already been having fun so.

Burn the witch, rats and kings.
Bonfires. Gasoline.
Speakers that lobotomize.
Stare into these nerd eyes.