Stumbling after these passages I’ve unchained,
turnin over every stone like a drug raid.
Shame struck me sharper than some of my partners’ gun games
as I was savin places for my day ones, and none stayed.
Verses were tourniquets on atrophied muscle,
diggin my past outta capsule til I damaged the shovel.
Rap was a struggle, then I started puttin tracks in a duffle
like wifey walkin outta Sally with a bag full of bundles
Fastenin buckles on these time machine seats
when ninety-three weeks of my diet was deep sleep.
Our playground was Wicker, liquor tire-swing cheap,
chewin through a cypher let our dyin dreams eat.
Performin live from the back of the shelf
scratchin another L into that capital WELP
with twinnin detonator buttons strapped to my belt,
pregnant with litters of bullets I named after myself.
Jumpin through the projector before the movie starts,
soles of my boots splittin lenses into computer parts.
Used to fix my face into menace with moody art
til all of my blemishes melted into beauty marks.
credits
from ceenick,
released December 4, 2020
(A. Levin, J. Shered)
This album is an impressive feet of writing and sound design. Kill sets such an incredible mood throughout the record, and the writing is consuming, reflective, full of dark humor, and the weight of life. Easily one of favorite albums to drop this year. Bloodmon$y Perez
Steeped in cool-tone sounds that nod to ’90s greats Tribe, Gang Starr, and Souls of Mischief, this record channels the spirit of the Chicago everyman, propping up the notion that true power belongs to the people. Roberto Johnson