Scaramanga (Sir Menelik) - 7 XL ft. Sadat X + Grand Puba

Fiyah tune!!!

Off the old Soundbombing 2 Mixtape.

“7XL, the Gods live well, cash clientele
Checks out the mail, sippin Guinness while
flippin bidness well, in a tailor made whip
Accelerate, make papes while we marinate”

DJ Spooky - Object Unknown ft. Kool Keith

What you youngins know bout this? Man I used to get mad drunk/high to this LP. yowsaz!!!

Trippy shit.

Saul Williams - Bloodletting

the greatest americans
have not been born yet

they are waiting patiently
for the past to die
please give blood

those crumbled tablets
were to share a story
with a burning Bush

where is that voice from nowhere to remind us
that the holy ground we walk on, purified by native blood has rooted trees
whose fallen leaves now colour code a sacred list of demands?

who among us can give translation of autumn’s hues to morning news?

the anchor man
thrown overboard
has simply rooted us in history’s repeating cycle

a nation in its saturn years that won’t acknowledge karma

where is that voice from nowhere, the ones your prophets spoke of?

there are voices from fear
disconnected from their diaphragms
dangling from coffee covered teeth
that spill into our laps
and scorch our privates

there are voices from the sides of necks
some already noosed
dangling participles
pronouns running for sentence serving life in corner offices
and ghetto corners
their voices are the same:
dead to themselves numb to the possibility of truth
existing beyond that which can be palmed into your hand, period.

there are voices of elders
which seem to do no more
than damn us to our childish ways for in many households wisdom no longer
comes with age

so where is that voice from nowhere?
that burning bush?
that passing dove?

for i hear generals calling for ammunition presidents calling for arms and
women calling for help

where is that voice from nowhere?
that god of abraham?
can he be heard over the gunfire
the wizz of passing missiles
the crash of buildings
the cries of children
the crack of bones
the shriek of sirens

or is that his mighty voice?

your angry god craving the sacrifice of generation’s sons degenerate
your holy books
written in red ink
on burning sands

your prayers between rounds do no more than fasten the fate of your children
to the hammered truth of your trigger
a truth that mushrooms
it’s darkened cloud
over the rest of us
so that we too bear witness to the short lived fate
of a civilization that worships a male god

your weapons are phallic
all of them

that dummie that sits
on your lap is no longer
a worthwhile spectacle
his shrunken pale face
leaves little room for imagination
we have spotted your moving lips and have pinned the voice to it’s proper source
it is a source of madness
a source of hunger for power
a source of weakness
a source of evil

we have exited your coliseum and are encircling your box office demanding
our families back
our cultures back
our rituals back
our gods back
so that we may return them to their proper source
the source of life
the source of creation
our mother’s womb
the great goddess

we will cut through
the barbed wire hangers
and chastity belts
we will climb in and
incubate our spirits
through the winter
we will wait through
the degenerate course
of your repeated history
we will wait
for the past
to die

Estelle feat. John Legend - Fall In Love

Ok if she’s gonna be on this pop house shit, then hopefully by this year I could land a track on some upcoming projects. Vamos a Ver. 2010 is a promising year for my “mainstream” music foundations. Along with other great things.

Sarah Jones - Blood

This joint is one of my faves from when I was in High School.

Blood:

 It is the thickest blood on this planet
The feet, that slip and slide in spilled lakes of black blood
on back roads marked with rusted dead end signs
They don’t fit into any shoes
Not Nike’s, and not Reebok’s, though they
make em across the sea and sell em to you and me
for fifty times their value *tch* none of them can hold the blood
that coagulated not so long ago, in the lower extremities
of off-color corpses, strung up from trees
Like, drying figs or, hanging poupourri, to
sweeten scenes of Southern gallantry
Before cushioned insoles and arch supports
There were feet that sank in rusted chains, and uhh
backs that cracked beneath the weight of slave names
like Jones, Smith, Johnson, Williams, or even Hilfiger
And black butts that bore marks forever from irons
that preceded those for pressing and curling naps
yanked straight, before relaxers weaves and pink lotion
[British accent]
Branding irons children, now that you’ve crossed the ocean right
Step up here lit-tle nigger on the auction block and open up your mouth
Right, good strong teeth, good muscle tone
You oughta pick a ton of cotton, must be worth ten dollars maybe more
See here ladies and gentlemen how much can I get for this here
barely used, top of the line…
[American accent returns]
Fast forward to Calvin Klein
and modern ownership tags for black behinds, courtesy of Ralph Lauren
A.K.A. low, low, well how low can you go?
Call on black consumers if you want the cash flow
Cause they quick to flip and spend up all they dough
and don’t front money, act like you know
We give it up to the Brook-lyn malls
We give it up to the Uptown malls
Cause the white folks figure ain’t no question for a nigga
that material posessions can answer
Keep us preoccupied from what we read or what we drive
while our mothers are dying of cancer
We tuck our low self esteem in Euro-trash jeans
some overpriced shit from Donna Karan
As we toast with Hennesey to covert white supremacy
Hiding the thickest blood on the planet
we wearing it under our clothes, the way God dressed our souls
but, check how the proud blood flow through 1996
Adding fuel to the flames of some bullshit brand names
cause we couldn’t see past the next pair of fat kicks
It is the thickest blood on this planet
The blood that, sprays and spills in buckets
soaks and stains the nightly news, but fuck it
A colored life still ain’t worth but a few ducats
That blood can’t be contained by any mind that cannot see a
great black forest for all these cracker trees
I’m talkin about Afro-Madonna, and child, and child
and child, and child, and whoops, there goes another one
And momma don’t know the answer so baby gots to Guess
Oh say young blood, you wanna tell me
what George Marciano, ever did for a negro? Boricua, chicano
brothers and sisters their pockets like blood blisters
Ready to pop, ooze, and drop cash so hot and so fast
it makes a spark
“Yeah mami cause now I got my upside down triangle
My designer question mark”
OH WHY ASK WHY that shit don’t make you complete
It’s vanilla concealer for your chocolate heartbeat
Pumping the, thickest blood on this planet
While we take it for granted that, more Selma churches won’t be bombed
More bullet riddled bodies won’t be embalmed
Another cop won’t, commit murder turn around and get a raise
while we pickin over the racks from white owned Doctor J’s
to Modell’s, Macy’s, and Sach’s
Shit they just think we ain’t never gon’ change our ways
and finally answer back:
“No suh, Ise don’t want to wear yo’ britches
No suh, Ise don’t want to grant yo’ wishes
That all us negroes..” .. shall continue to hide, in your shoes
and your clothes, as if we should take pride
in your savage traditions, in genocide
All the spirits you extinguished and never batted one blue eye
Yet your vulture’s on our culture like white on brown rice
Bleach our blood and sell it back, special price
on this blood that races through the African veins of the child
on his way to the mall, in White Plains
to catch a confused, lost, land-stealing Columbus Day sale
on a Fila jogging suit, for his brother in jail
That blood, is your blood, it’s my blood, it’s our blood
It’s the, thickest blood on this planet

Saul Williams - Tao of Now ft. Esthero

[Saul Williams:]
Children of the night
Only some will star the sky
Only believers in death will die
And fathers must feather
the wings of women
For the unfeathered masses
dangle ridiculous
Carrying crosses to phalayx filled tombs
The future sells silence
through blood rivered wombs
That ripple with riddles of cows
and spoons and births
Moons and earths
Sun-centered at noon

[Esthero:]
Now….

[Saul Williams:]
And here I stand
Court jestering infinity
Fetal fisted for revolution
But open hands birth humility
Now what is the density of
an egoless planet?
Must my spine be aligned to sprout wings?
I’m slouched into sling steps and
kangoled with gang reps
But my orbit rainbows saturn rings
Mystical eliptical
Presto polaris
Karmic flamed future when
saturns and aries
And now I’m a fish called father
With gills type dizzy
Blowing liquid lullabies
through the spine of time
I’m certain of saturns rivers
and all else is fact
So baptise me in the stars
And wrap me in nighttime
Moon blue
Pupil my sight with orange balls of light
And echo my plight
Through the corridors of metaphor
What else are we living
for if not to create
Fiction and rhyme?
My purpose is to make my soul
Rhyme with my
mind over matter
Minds create matter
minds create fiction
As a matter of fact
As if matter of fact
Matter is fact
So spirit must be fiction
Science fiction
Art fiction
Meta fiction

[Esthero:]
Now

[Saul Williams:]
The tao of now
Is here amongst the living
in the voice of children is
the tao of now

[Esthero:]
You are the divine
reflection of this earth
She does not belong to you, love
there is no need for your correction
All rivers run in the same direction

[Saul Williams:]
If you’re serving the father
there’s no son without mother
Parent bodies discover
water bodies and drown
Wade me in the water
‘Til atlantis is found
On the sea floors of self
I’m starfish and unbound
Heard that name of that
mound is stone mountain
Underwater volcanoes erupt
water fountains of youth
Let’s us carnal the equation,
cancel out wind and truth
Swirl me beyond sometimes
Drench me water proof
Let eve drop forever
rain sunsets on my roof
As I sit on the front porch of my sanity
Deciphering hambones to
van gogh this vanity
Oiled egos
Canvased and framed
To be reborn unborn unburied unnamed
A reflection through a blood
stained glass window
Of souls gone yellow around the edges

[Esthero:]
Is here amongst the living
Is in the voice of children
It is the tao of now

[Saul Williams:]
Carbonated dreams and blurred daily lives
But let family bring focus
Out of swamps blossom lotus
The muddy water blue daughters of infinity
Gravity we water bodied
bhodisativas our serenity
As we rise with the tides toward divinity

[Esthero:]
Now…
Is here amongst the living
Is in the voice of children
It is the tao of now

[Saul Williams:]
Yes we rise with the
tides towards divinity
The muddy water blue daughters of infinity
Gravity we water bodied
bhodisativas our serenity
As we rise with the tides
toward divinity….
Yes we rise with the
tides towards diviinty
Yes we rise with the
tides towards divinity
Now we rise with the
tides towards divinity
And we rise with the
tides towards divinity
‘Cause we rise with the
tides towards divinity

[Esthero:]
Now…

[Saul Williams:]
The tao of now
Is here amongst the living
in the voice of children is
the tao of now

[Esthero:]
Is here amongst the living
Is in the voice of children
It is the tao of now

Saul Williams - Children of the Night

Which later became part of the track “Tao of Now” on Saul Williams’ debut album “Amethyst Rock Star” 

Children of the Night:

And out of the sun’s gates come little girls in dresses of fire wearing pigtails of braided smoke which stem from their moon-cratered scalps.

The glowing seeds of a nightly garden that will blossom into full moons regardless of the sun.

They know the night and the seven names of the wind through the tails of their windblown fathers.

Who will father these mothers of light?

And what will become of me, Children of the Night?

Only some will star the sky, only believers in death will die.

And fathers must feather the wings of women, for the unfeathered masses dangle ridiculous.

Carrying crosses to phallics-filled tombs, the future sails silence through blood rivered wombs that ripple with riddles of cows and spoons and births moons and earths suns-centered at noon.

She buries her eggs in the soil and plants her feet in the sky.

Soil seeds a circus of carrots and clowns and menstrual shows our desires.

And here I stand, court jestering infinity, fetal fisted for revolution, but open hands birth humility.

Now what is the density of an egoless planet? Must my spine be aligned to sprout wings?

I’m slouched into sling steps and kangoled with gang reps, but my orbit rainbows Saturn’s rings.

Mystical elliptical, presto polaris, karmic flamed future with Saturn’s and aries.

And now I’m a fish called father with gills type dizzy, blowing liquid lullabies through the spine of time to tranquilize the nervous system’s defeat.

At the feet of forever the children are gathered or rather buried in that mass grave sight of the night.

They are the seeds of light planted in the sky, but the nights and skies are meaningless to their unearthly eyes.

They are our children!

Playing chess on the sun-burnt backs of one-eyes turtles, check-mating a lifetime slow crawl to enlightenment.

Cashing in their crown and glory for magic and contradiction.

The children of fiction.

Born of semen-filled crosses thrust in Calvary’s mound with memories of mañana’s millennium.

The gravity of the pendulum, the inscription of the grail.

The rumors of war and famine, diseases, and storms of hell.

All hail the new beginning! behold the winter’s end.

Bring on the puppets and dragons, let the ceremonies begin.

For they have come to shatter time and bring back the dead! newborn, an army of me.

Bearing change in the front lines and shadows in the field mines, to wilderness the lights of the city.

I have seen them! a tumultuous army of bastards and beggars, madmen and idiots, witches and harlots, dancers and lunatics, sinners and singers, losers and lovers, students and teachers, poets and priests.

Orbiting the realms of the ordinary through the ordinances of those ordained by the beast.

These are our children!

Love-laden life lanterns casting shadows that Shepard the flocks, crying wolf in the moons full, as sirens of love’s lull, the offspring of Gibraltar’s rock.

Who will deny them and thrice crows the c**k… will it be you, Peter? [Matthew 26:34]

Decked in day mare’s denial masqueraded in matter over mind under trial.

Self is the servant to serpents with wings; three is the beginning of all things.
Triangles and rectangle your wings.

Let vision blur out your deservings; pile stones to unearth ancient learnings; see self as the ghost of your servings.

If you’re serving the father there’s no son without mother parent bodies discover water bodies and drown.

Wade me in the water ‘till Atlantis is found.

On the sea floors of self I’m starfish and unbound.

Heard the name of that mound is Stone Mountain.

Underwater volcanoes erupt water fountains of youth, lest this carnal equation cancel out wind and truth.

Throw me beyond sometimes, drench me water-proof.

Let eve drop forever rain sunsets on my roof.

As I sit on the front porch of my sanity, deciphering hambones to van Gogh this vanity.

Oiled egos canvassed and framed, to be reborn unborn unburied unnamed.

A reflection through a blood-stained glass window of souls gone yellow round the edges.

Carbonated dreams and blurred daily lives, but let family bring focus.

Out of swamps blossom lotus.

The muddy water blue daughters of infinity, water body bodhisattvas our serenity as we rise with the tides towards divinity.

And she will be raised by wolves! just below the Mason Ree Dixon line, where eagles noose the misuse of Osiris’ sake of papyruses in their claws clenched.

So that the vultures of our memories may feast upon the remedies of ancient laws lynched, and flock to the treetops of the forethoughts we have forgotten.

Yes! silence will be begotten of the wind.

The silver eyes of the darkness are friends; they sometimes plant forever in their dens.

On the mountainsides of sometimes now and then, in-between the rise and set of you and I.

May blue visions know the depth of liquid skies.

And some ask me if she cries at night; when it’s is the substance of her tears that drenched the days with light.

s**t you better hope she do.

Because there are women with fur coats and painted faces, dancing on the peripheries of perfection.

They eat Chinese apples that stain their teeth red, and they’ll cackle cosmos of chaos.

and in a moments notice the children on the train, selling chocolate with their mothers in the background fundraising their dreams from the dead.

And the authors of order are corresponding catharsis and change the leaves of my needs are in dread.

I need fruit and vegetables, for only living things can feed the span of wings and thus she was born and chartered my flight into the blueness of night.

I am the darkness that precedes the light!

A pupil of the sea’s reflective sight!

Notebook in hand I footnote land and write; plot dot dot dot and dot my eyes is right.

And cast my line amongst the children…

And the night.