Lyrics Brief Description - Atmosphere
(Sample:
"Have
you
heard
it?
Sing
along
with
it.
If
you
didn't
hear
it,
you're
gonna
hear
it
right
now.")
(Slug)
Bam,
the
door
way
opened
for
me
I
saw
ways
and
told
the
story
Raw
day
dreams
of
holding
glory
Junior
high,
hall
way
kings
Locker
taggin'
MCs
Beat
boxin',
breakin'
Zulu
Nation
wanna-bes
It
didn't
take
long
to
see
who'd
stay
strong
High
school
came
upon
Some
B-Boys
put
their
gang
bangs
on
But
some
kept
on
doing
Step
on
to
ruin
Others
that
were
pursuing
the
same
shit
we
thought
we
ruled
in
But
what
a
surprise
The
passion
for
being
the
best
Puts
the
quest
for
allies
to
rest
Dead
In
the
Midwest
where
heads
Is
just
a
handful
In
a
land
of
gangstas
Players,
replacements,
pricks,
banjos
We
scramble
To
break
MCs
that
may
appreciate
it
Guided
by
the
envy,
insecurity,
and
the
hatred
Separated
by
the
'gimmie
props'
technique
And
a
desire
to
be
the
tops
this
week
I
gotta
floss
the
speak
Cause
talk
is
cheap
Even
the
broke
kids
can
afford
it
That's
why
I
stand
close,
and
if
you're
dope
then
I'm
supportive
But
if
not
We'll
keep
the
mic
warm
for
the
next
one
Respect
the
artform
And
make
your
wishes
on
the
stars
born
Within
the
movement
Fact
checkin',
tryin'
to
completely
avoid
all
channels
of
back-stepping
From
the
lines
of
painted
the
concrete
That
reside
on
Lakestreet
To
the
way
we
close
our
eyes
to
sleep
And
drift
through
Deep
Space
9 type
shit
To
find
this
I've
been
around
for
as
long
as
sound
I've
been
to
that
not
so
fresh
phase
And
to
the
not
quite
that
serious
state
but
I've
evolved
Metamorphed
a
manifest
state
Ised
to
be
young,
dumb
and
full
of
vision
Like
it
was
religious
rituals
I
made
initial
decisions
I
wanted
to
be
a
rapper
world
renowned
From
Minneap
to
the
Bronx
Capture
girls
and
crowns
Snap,
crackle
and
stomp
That's
what
I
found
The
abyss
that
sits
in-between
the
one
that
holds
the
mic
and
those
that
Don't
even
listen
Formed
some
crews
Rocked
talent
shows
at
schools
Saturdays
on
the
18
make
my
way
down
to
the
record
pool
I
met
a
grip
of
people
that
was
bullshit
(bullshit)
Was
down
with
a
lot
of
people
that
was
bullshit
But
I
pull
shit
from
the
asshole
of
an
angel
before
I
let
him
hassle
and
Strangle
The
love
triangle
between
me,
the
mic
and
the
turntable
Went
to
studios
We
want
to
make
demos
We
want
to
do
shows
and
rock
our
own
instrumentals
Do
our
own
production
Fuckin'
around
with
this
kid
Kazir
Nitwit
engineer
Barely
knew
his
own
equipment,
Atmosphere
The
prefix
was
Urban
Wrecked
shows
Made
friends,
made
foes
Overall
we
made
flows
And
right
now
as
I
sit
here,
write
now,
writing
this
I'm
buggin'
off
of
the
people
in
my
life
that
made
me
like
this
Within
the
movement
Fact
checkin'
Tryin'
to
completely
avoid
all
channels
of
back-steppin'
From
the
lines
of
painted
concrete
That
reside
on
Franklin
Ave
To
the
dead
bird
on
the
elevator
To
that
short
in
your
cross
fader
I
never
got
lost
later
For
efforts
to
pester
Just
throw
your
hands
up
in
the
air
like
a
leper
I've
been
to
that
not
so
fresh
phase
And
to
the
not
quite
that
serious
state
Metamorph
a
manifest
state
Well
sometimes
it
rings
and
I
don't
answer
it
That's
it
no
asterisks
No
thirst
to
find
the
circumstances
It
was
planted
in
me
deep
It
was
nurtured
and
it
grew
Gave
it
sleep
and
nutrition
It
was
efficient
let
it
through
There
are
a
few
that
have
developed
to
where
I
let
them
in
my
spectrum
For
the
rest
of
em
I
give
them
just
enough
to
cause
infection
Not
trippin'
on
attention
But
if
you
up
it,
it's
welcome
Open
arms,
potent
charms
I
know
the
words
and
I
can
spell
them
Seldom
is
it
When
one
inquisits
Do
they
leave
with
this
interest
In
fact
most
begin
crave
the
visits
Bringin'
me
to
the
table
That's
it,
no
more,
no
less
The
love,
the
life,
the
stress
Slug,
the
mic,
the
mess
Tested
Yes,
I've
been
tested
and
I've
tested
some
I'm
not
sayin'
I'm
the
best
Believe
I'm
not
Like
the
rest
of
em
Just
sayin'
I'm
better
than
you
That's
my
mind
state
My
rhymes
take
me
into
When
I
check
one
two
I
guess
some
do
get
pissed
But
intentions
were
to
inspire
Build
the
empire
before
I
get
tired
The
ones
that
tear
me
down
don't
know
it
But
they're
the
same
ones
that
built
me
Now
quiet,
lean
your
head
and
say,
"Yes,
you
can
feel
me."
(Sample:
"Asking
himself,
even
before
the
curtain
goes
up,
what
am
I?
I
am
now
eighty
years
old,
and
more,
and
I
am
determined
to
find
precisely
what
I
am,
what
I
amount
to.
They
tell
me
I
am
everything,
they
flatter
me
everyday
of
my
life.
I
am
now
going
to
subject
myself
to
a
rigorous
test
in
order
to
find
out
really
what
I
am.
I
don't
care
about
kingdom,
I
don't
care
about
rule
anymore.
It
is
of
no
importance
to
me,
as
such,
but
I
must
find
out
what
I
am
before
I
die.")
1 1597
2 Brief Description
3 Current Status
4 Complications
5 4:30 AM
6 Adjust
7 Clay
8 @
9 Sound Is Vibration
10 Multiples
11 Scapegoat
12 Ode To The Modern Man
13 WND
14 Multiples Reprise
15 Caved In
16 Cuando Limpia El Humo
17 The Outernet
18 Untitled
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