Tribes Of The Moon

by Kabal

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about

TRIBES OF THE MOON
A new collaborative project
featuring special guests as
well as guest producers
on every song.

Featuring:
Prince Pauly
AKstyleZ
Kuato Lives!
YU-C Beats
Alex P. Keaton
Tank Diggs
GROG
The Night Owls
C.L.D. Peeps
Double D
Mach Spitz
Gerg BWC
Mokbeatz
Alemap Mourson
Rysk Framtiden
Dirtbag DRRL
SoDoPe
Mister P
Error 144
UpperKutt
Kabal

All songs co-produced by:
Kabal (Kevin Theodoropolus)
@Necropolis, Georgetown, Ont. CA
All songs mastered by:
Gerg BWC ( Greg Dawson)
@BWC Studios, Brampton, Ont. CA
for MIDIAN Music (c) 2015

credits

released April 20, 2015

Kabal (Kevin Theodoropolus)

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Kabal Brampton, Ontario

Oldschool hardcore underground producer/rapper from Brampton Ontario Canada.

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Contact Kabal

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Track Name: Friends In High Places-produced by Prince Pauly
Friends In High Places

(Chorus1)
I'm feeling kind of low but I don't know why,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"
I'm reeling from a blow but I don't go and cry,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"
I don't see them that much and they never drop by,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"
In my dreams I see your faces sleeping where I lie,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"

(V1.)
I got friends in the west, I got friends in the east,
I got friends in the dirt because those friends are deceased/
I got friends in the north, I got friends in the south,
I got friends who get paid to knock the teeth out your mouth/
I got friends who wear patches, friends who wear badges,
Friends with technics and the super dope scratches/
Friends who ball, and some friends who don't,
I got some friends who will call, and some friends who won't/
I got friends with groupies, friends who make movies,
Friends in the city, and some friends in the boonies/
I got friends that are short, and some friends that are tall,
Got friends that are passive but they're ready to brawl/
I got friends making comic books, friends that are published,
Friends who find gold in another mans rubbish/
Friends who are dim, and friends that are gifted,
But the best kind of friends always keep me uplifted/

(Chorus2)
Dollar fifty in my pocket and my bank account dry,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"
Little piggies on the block got your bag of brown Thai,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"
And when the shit goes down I'll be there on the fly,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"
Too drunk to fuck and too tough to die,
"I got friends in high places that are keeping me high"

(V2.)
I got friends with felonies, and PHDs,
I got friends who cut lumber, friends who save trees/
I got a friend with a studio, a friend with an office,
A friend who breaks even and a friend who makes profits/
Friends who yell, and friends that are soft spoken,
Some are too serious while others always joking/
Friends with tattoos, friends with three piece suits,
I got some scary looking friends that are real sweet brutes/
Got a friend who's a pilot, friends making rare strains,
I got military friends jumping out of airplanes/
I got friends with no credit, and friends with credibility,
Friends who work hard, friends collecting disability/
Friends in construction, and tax deduction,
Friends busy doing something while the others doing nothing/
Friends in politics, and friends in real estate,
The best kind of friends always keep me feeling really great/

(Chorus1)
(Chorus2)
(Chorus1)
(Chorus2)
Track Name: White-produced by AKstyleZ
White

(V1.)
I never ever for a minute thought I'd be the one to win it,
See a beat I'm all up in it, never quit it for the critics/
Or the cynical, over analytical people,
Whimsical, lyrical, dopin' clinically lethal/
Like a needle injecting, evil infecting,
I got a little something for the feeble disrespecting/
Levels of my rhymes I've been climbing to recently,
You got no decency, to treat me equally/
The playing field is level, what you're saying is disheveled,
Still portraying me as satan and a cracker white devil/
But I revel in the hatred, never gonna play dead,
Using criticism as a means to fill my grey head/
With new battle plans, new blue prints, new flows,
Schooner like a blue nose, that's how I do hoes/
True prose and poetry, vocally, potently,
A target for opinions cus my skin is so notably.../

(chorus)
White, like the winter, like the paper in the printer,
Whiter than your mama's chicken dinner/
White fish finger platter, slathered in tartar
and mayonnaise, whiter than the snow on the Himalayas/
Amadeus wig white, bright light bulb white,
Whiter than a paper plate, and a plastic dull knife/
White for my whole life, a blank painting,
Whiter than the teeth in every mouth that be complaining/

(V2.)
That I sound too white, getting clowned for that,
Should I change my voice, and try to sound more black?/
I couldn't roll like that, because I gotta stay true,
And keep doing what I do with the nasal boogaloo/
Never act the part, just a rap fanatic,
Obsessed with the art, and the mathematic/
Arrangements of literature, my trademark signature,
Dropping competition and administer the finisher/
Stereotypical, would be hypocritical,
I keep individual, but no residuals/
White man can't write, don't believe in that hype,
Not on the radio, cus I don't put the stereo in type/
(Right!?!) I might of grew up in the burbs with the rest of them,
(Right) But I can flip up fucking words with the best of them/
Invested my time, freely do it, rap align,
Loving rhymes & drum patterns, & it really shouldn't matter if I'm.../

(chorus)
White, like the winter, like the paper in the printer,
Whiter than your mama's chicken dinner/
White fish finger platter, slathered in tartar
and mayonnaise, whiter than the snow on the Himalayas/
Amadeus wig white, bright light bulb white,
Whiter than a paper plate, and a plastic dull knife/
White for my whole life, a blank painting,
Whiter than the teeth in every mouth that be complaining/
That I'm...
White, like the winter, like the paper in the printer,
Whiter than your mama's chicken dinner/
White fish finger platter, slathered in tartar
and mayonnaise, whiter than the snow on the Himalayas/
Amadeus wig white, bright light bulb white,
Whiter than a paper plate, and a plastic dull knife/
White for my whole life, a blank painting,
Whiter than the teeth in every mouth that be complaining/
That I'm white...
Track Name: If You Wanna​-​produced by Kuato Lives!
If You Wanna

(V1.)
I get down the only way I know how,
You know my styles never been low brow/
Dropping consonants and more vowels,
Rocking from The Bronx to So-Cal/
Forever underground, hip hop peddler,
A creator and a writer and an editor/
Who don't back down from no competitors,
All you bitch rappers out getting pedicures/
I gotta drop a rhyme if the drum fits,
But I never had the time for them club hits/
You run and drop a dime like a dumb snitch,
Old man Father Time cus I son kids/
A.Z. always lacing you with dope cuts,
I hear a funky beat and I go nuts/
All the ladies in the club shaking big butts,
While we're steady getting busy turning speakers into sluts/

(Chorus)
If you wanna get down how my crew do,
If you wanna get down the way we do/
If you wanna get down to the beat too,
If you wanna get down make your feet move/
If you wanna get down with your bad self,
To the type of sound that makes your body go.../

(V2.)
This one here is to the home boys,
Packing in the clubs making mo' noise/
Everyone's come together for some real joys,
So don't be shooting up the place with them steel toys/
This one here is to the ladies,
Snubbing us brothers looking shady/
Then you see us getting paid on the daily,
Now you scheming for the bread and the gravy/
Always gotta call it how I sees it,
Even if it cause a disagreement/
Now you try and front for no reason,
With your slanderous microphone treason/
Running off the mouth you getting wet now,
Everybody gather round place your bet down/
Perspiration kicks in you start to sweat clown,
And take another on the chin when I get down/

(Chorus)
If you wanna get down how my crew do,
If you wanna get down the way we do/
If you wanna get down to the beat too,
If you wanna get down make your feet move/
If you wanna get down with your bad self,
To the type of sound that makes your body go.../

(V3.)
Always coming out wilding,
Stone cold face never smiling/
Killing every beat cus I'm violent,
I see a microphone you know I won't be silent/
Flowing off the top I won't lose it,
Because I've always dropped to improve it/
I rock with Al now cus I choose it,
Scientific recipe just like the power of music/
First ingredient would be a phat beat,
Add a little synth to make the track deep/
Gotta have bass to make your back sweep,
Plus a little something something from my rap sheet/
Coming old style with a new flow,
Going all out for my true bros/
To the ones that are living and a few souls,
Jay & Mike roll with me but now they two crows/

(Chorus)
If you wanna get down how my crew do,
If you wanna get down the way we do/
If you wanna get down to the beat too,
If you wanna get down make your feet move/
If you wanna get down with your bad self,
To the type of sound that makes your body go.../
Track Name: UglyBack-produced by UpperKutt
UglyBack

(Chorus)
I'm bringing ugly back,
Cus pretty boys can't rap/
Them fucking beats are wack,
You all disgrace the craft/

(V1.)
I breathe the lifestyle, you just pretend to live it,
I give my life while, you just attend your gimmick/
Glitter & glimmer, shimmer pretty & shiny,
While I'm thinner & grimmer, sinner, gritty & grimy/
You find me writing deep, preserving story telling,
You write cheap on shitty beats, in all your glory selling/
Your own soul at the chance to move a couple records,
I teach my son to play chess, you always lose at checkers/
You're on the television, I don't even have cable,
I dig in crates, you've never ever seen a turn tunable/
You take the whole turkey, I got two bucks for stuffing,
They say you are what you eat, that's why I guess I'm nothing/
Except true to the way I always did this,
spitting no gibberish, gifted with the privilege/
To protect and respect what was left by the masters,
Drained by you ignorant bastards/

(Chorus)X2
I'm bringing ugly back,
Cus pretty boys can't rap/
Them fucking beats are wack,
You all disgrace the craft/

(V2.)
You rockin brand names, I'm rockin no name,
I hit the dro with flames, you sniff the cocaine/
You pay a hundred for a shirt hoping to kiss whores,
I get a shirt for $2.50 at a thrift store/
You wear skinny jeans hanging off your ass cheeks,
I wear camos and cargos and old khakis/
You got a big beard, so do plenty other queers,
I've had the same goatee for 20 something years/
You goto barber shops they crop you up like Macklemore,
I wear starter caps atop my thinning patches more/
You sport Jordans in every colour of the rainbow,
I goto Payless for some Vans during bogo/
You clock a lot of gold, I got a bit of silver,
I keep original, you bite a lot of shit & pilfer/
Grill full of diamonds while I'm rhyming with mouth,
Full of rotting teeth, but property won't help you drop properly/

(Chorus)X2
I'm bringing ugly back,
Cus pretty boys can't rap/
Them fucking beats are wack,
You all disgrace the craft/
Track Name: Fact & Fiction-produced by Alex P. Keaton
Fact & Fiction

(V1.)
Fact - I'm back, new fat track,
Fiction - me & V Mac is new jacks/
Fact - I've rapped since the days of way back,
Fiction - me smacked, from a sneak attack/
Fact - guns clap from a quick fast trigger,
Fiction - I'm a muthafucking bitch ass Wigga/
Fact - I'm a grave digger, not a gold digger,
Fiction - my head and my ego keep getting bigger/
Fact - this beat ain't fuckin trash,
Fiction - my beats make tons of cash/
Fact - Got the mad stash, of grass and hash,
Fiction - me smashed swilling sour mash/
Fact - heads been cracked from throwing bottles,
Fiction - not a dad, nobody's role model/
Fact - never been knocked out or wobbled,
Fiction - seeing me backing down in squabble/

(Chorus x2)
Fact & Fiction,
Fiction & Fact,
Wether matter of fact,
or false, exalt exact/
Fiction & Fact,
Fact & Fiction,
Twisting the track,
with my rap contradictions/

V2.)
Fact - I'll annoy you and get on your nerves,
Fiction - me at black tie affairs with hors d'oeuvres/
Fact - good cops will reject a swerve,
Fiction - all cops will protect and serve/
Fact - you can't see me when I'm moving in stealth,
Fiction - I like the way you throw me off of your shelf/
Fact - smoking crack, you're losing yourself,
Fiction - poking smack, is good for your health/
Fact - the day is a wrap, I be hitting the sack,
Fiction - me suffering from anxiety attacks/
Fact - most rap nowadays is wack,
Fiction - hip hops strictly made by the blacks/
Fact - I can use words to paint you a picture,
Fiction - me preaching some biblical scriptures/
Fact - music sticks like a permanent fixture,
Fiction - this ain't no collaborative mixture/

(Chorus x2)
Fact & Fiction,
Fiction & Fact,
Wether matter of fact,
or false, exalt exact/
Fiction & Fact,
Fact & Fiction,
Twisting the track,
with my rap contradictions/
Track Name: Just Don't(f.MachSpitz)-produced by BWC Gerg & Kuato Lives!
Just Don't

(V1.Kabal)
I be the K-I-L-L-E-R killer,
Old school, dope fool, ill rhyme spiller/
Hype man, tight jam, gold pot filler,
King Kong blow K.O.s Godzilla/
With the C to the R, U-S-H, Crush,
All in, for the win, bust you with a straight flush/
Broke clown, choked down, shoulda kept your mouth hush,
Snow ball, roll hard, now you're just brown slush/
Bruce Banner, loose cannon, upper handing,
Like, Bruce Willis, in the last man standing/
Trash man, surfin' bird, loose hanging,
Bare hands never deuce deuce banging/
Strangler DiSalvo, problem resolver,
Rob and dissolve ya, like a revolver/
(Blaow!) Hot goon haunt you in your pontoon,
At a theatre near you catch you in the monsoon/

(chorus)X2
Check the vernacular wreck the spectacular
Ladies and fellas forget yer umbrellas
Done and we're rid of ya over like ghidorah
Serve like a Federer ditto etcetera

(V2.Mach Spitz)
This is an announcement chumps a public service,
Lumps to the dermis got the numptees getting nervous/
Falling off like humpty? Never, know we way too clever,
And so deliver endeavours that leave you begging/
for the time out Like Webber, but sucka you haven't got one,
Too late, we crashing the gate like 18 clowns in a Datsun/
What have you wrought, son? Those CDs?
What have you bought son?,
You thought retirement was imminent but we're not done/
2014 kids, the year of the Geeze,
Stealing mics from tykes like they was drunken drivers
"gimme the keys"/
And get to stepping punk I'll leave you with your sneakers,
Cuz A Z's crazy prepping funk that's cleaving through your speakers/
This ain't the typical shit,
the topical shit, so quit yer foolin/
You best admit defeat when,
Crush and the killa kev get to schooling/

(chorus)X
Check the vernacular wreck the spectacular
Ladies and fellas forget yer umbrellas
Done and we're rid of ya over like ghidorah
Serve like a Federer ditto etcetera

(V3.Kabal)
Don't even bother, to try and step to the author,
I haunt the Holy Ghost, the son and the father/
Lock up your daughter, your goomah and your wifey,
Matter of fact, lock up the back door and run for your life G/
Don't try and spite me, or smite me with your ignorance,
I'll send you down shits creek without a paddle like deliverance/
I be belligerent so diligent, never gave a damn,
Step to the dope man, get choke slammed with one hand/
That's how I roll, snatch your mouth gold like a nazi,
You only rolling dice out a cup and yelling "Yahtzee"
We play for keeps, so you can keep those childish games,
We'll keep on coming, crushing mics with stylish claims/
This ain't no weak ass shit,
No punk ass shit, so stop your hatred/
You taste that sweet defeat,
When Kabal and the Mach Spitz drop more greatness/
Track Name: Ain't No Stoppin' Me(f.TankDiggs&Lil'G)
Ain't No Stoppin' Me

(V1. Kabal)
No stopping me, a pirate at monopoly.
You're crushed underfoot like a piece of private property/
I got my fatherly duties, trying to find a home,
& show my son to slay fools upon the microphone/
We both got skinny knees, in upheaval & living free,
Kabal & Lil' G, Doc Evil & Mini Me/
Banging like a sex sale, you're like a blank text fail,
I'm Sgt.D with the Hate Tank from Rexdale/
You wanna scrap twisted metal then we'll meet you in the parking lot,
You gonna bite little puppy or just bark a lot?/
Thinking you a Rottweiler but you're just a lap dog,
Urban Greek Mythology would label me a rap god/
All the slack jawed, cow poking, yokels,
Will never comprehend the message in my vocals/
I could keep going on about my deadly flow,
But that would be a bit redundant cus you already know...(that)/

(Chorus)
There ain't no stopping me,
I am the reason for this whole atrocity/
I am the reason this beat bangs with velocity,
But this is simply just one man's philosophy/
I might teeter but you'll never topple me,
I tell ya one thing that there ain't no stopping me/
Ain't no stopping me...

(V2. Tank Diggs)
It was an ambitious decision made through lack of clear vision,
how I mount aggressive position, control before submission/
I made it my only mission just to lay you down to sleep,
................. no need to count sheep/
it's a damn shame going insane left side of the brain,
stay dry while the right side drowns in the rain/
who am I to blame when society is going up in flames?
this is a mental game and see I chose/
the higher road, at the end of it gold,
for all this fortune untold, at a premium sold/
Like my lyrics, I rhyme for you to hear it,
right beside you in sprit, block the path and ill clear it/
like a tank dawg howl at the moon, cut through the fog,
you could rage against machines or be attached to the cogs/
your going for a ride so let that spinning wheel spin,
and if you need it said slower I'll repeat it again/

(Chorus)
There ain't no stopping me,
I am the reason for this whole atrocity/
I am the reason this beat bangs with velocity,
But this is simply just one man's philosophy/
I might teeter but you'll never topple me,
I tell ya one thing that there ain't no stopping me/
Ain't no stopping me...

(V3. Lil' G)
It's me again, I'm pretty calm yo!
I know you know my dad, Cabal with a K yo/
We're really into skeletons, what about horror movies?
My and my friend always say "Homie"/
Part of this side now, see the darkness,
Call of Duty zombies, Halo, watching Jackass/
Ghostface, Leatherface, Michael Myers,
Watching Smosh & PewdiePie, listening to MarkiPlier/
Mortal Kombat, got that yo?
Uh-huh, this is about rap attack yo/
I'm the one who started this rapping, Jokes!
My father is the real rapper, attacker/
High school people thinking they're so cool?
Jokes! really not that cool, I'm only 7 years old/
Hustler! You're already damn 12,
Best things ever just ignore those bullies/

(Chorus)
There ain't no stopping me,
I am the reason for this whole atrocity/
I am the reason this beat bangs with velocity,
But this is simply just one man's philosophy/
I might teeter but you'll never topple me,
I tell ya one thing that there ain't no stopping me/
Ain't no stopping me...

(Ad-lib: Lil' G)
Track Name: Disco Christ Walker-produced by Error144
Disco Christ Walker

(Chorus)
All up in the plight, this whole sight, stalkers,
Fish ready to bite, Disco Christ Walker/
Consuming everything, piss gold like it's water,
Inhuman living, Disco Christ Walker/
Flocking to the sheep, with those iced dollars,
Rocking to the beat, Disco Christ Walker/
brain? heart? No, Scarecrow slights doctored,
Tin Man's soul, Disco Christ Walker/

(V1.)
You follow the herd, & you follow the news,
Just like you swallow the word, of celebrity's views/
Getting anything new, cus if you snooze then you loose,
Spending everything too, cus that's the life that you choose/
See, You the type that like, propaganda,
But Never fight when the government, upper hand ya/
But you don't like when a bright one reprimand ya,
But you'll fight when your quite dumb Prez commands ya/(HA!)
Buzzcutts, on the front line, sunshine,
Toss guts, and a dump, when it's gun time/
Numb mind, cloned from a mould that never run dry,
Carbon copy, sold another soul to the glum buy/
I know that ignorance be running in your bloodline,
And all the purchases is something for the sublime/
Fantasy, manifest destiny,
You spending G's like it's a scandalous recipe,
Technical ecstasy, equity jealousy,
Allowance from accounts just to balance you chemically/
Matter of fact, skull thicker than plaster,
Gawking at the tragedies and human disasters,
Worshipping actors, bow to your master,
Running store to store and blow your cash flow faster/
Feeding your conscious, you'll never be anomalous,
Off the radar, like Kevin Theodoropolus,
Shoppers anonymous, trauma on top of this,
Muthafuckas stunned like its the zombie apocalypse/

(Chorus)
Flocking to the sheep, with those iced dollars,
Rocking to the beat, Disco Christ Walker/
brain? heart? No, Scarecrow slights doctored,
Tin Man's soul, Disco Christ Walker/
All up in the plight, this whole sight, stalkers,
Fish ready to bite, Disco Christ Walker/
Consuming everything, piss gold like it's water,
Inhuman living, Disco Christ Walker/

(V2.)
All the plastic people, filling up the cheap seats,
Too pristine, living in the valley of the Jeep beats/
Selfie on your cellphone looking like a mannequin,
Wifi connection is unknown and now you panicking/
Ransacking everything, just to be in fashion,
Mantracking everything looking for your passion/
But you are d'void of, comprehending true love,
Trending & pretending seems to fit you like a new glove/
You just gotta have it cus, everybody else does
Worshipping material possessions that they sell us/
Try to be your own kind, try to find your own mind,
Open up your eyes and finally stop being so blind/

(Chorus)
All up in the plight, this whole sight, stalkers,
Fish ready to bite, Disco Christ Walker/
Consuming everything, piss gold like it's water,
Inhuman living, Disco Christ Walker/
Flocking to the sheep, with those iced dollars,
Rocking to the beat, Disco Christ Walker/
brain? heart? No, Scarecrow slights doctored,
Tin Man, no soul, Disco Christ Walker/
All up in the plight, this whole sight, stalkers,
Fish ready to bite, Disco Christ Walker/
Consuming everything, piss gold like it's water,
Inhuman living, Disco Christ Walker/
Track Name: Never Grow Up-produced by C.L.D.Peeps
Never Grow Up

(V1.)
I grew up in a few burbs, that have turned into hoods,
Put my foot to the curb, and turning over my goods/
But did I really grow up? I still rip the flow up,
And you never catch me drinking to the point that I throw up/
Never gave a pleasantry, was present for some felonies,
Endlessly growing up a product of the seventies/
Low class, bad-ass, always good to go fast,
Blast the mic with breathe control Cus I don't roll with no gas/
Son of Anarchy, pandering grammar free,
Getting under your skin because I love it when you slander me/
Chillaxing rolling shottie, accident prone hottie,
Little kid who isn't used to being in his grown body/
Mentally & physically, it's like I'm still sixteen,
Forever frozen in time, from all the LSD/
Always acting immature, but an entrepreneur,
Handle grown man shit matter of fact to be sure
I screwed your dame in her menstrual swelter
"And drew my name on the wall like Helter Skelter"

(V2.)
Don't need shelter like a Rolling Stone,
Cloned weed smelter, roll another cone/
I break it on down to the rawest of elements,
Drums from the jungle, roaring of elephants/
Weeded so hi, creepy low fi,
My CLD peeps and we keeps it so fly/
Redefining, making something,
Art is creating great beauty out of nothing/
Grant my mind more stimuli,
And I'll express myself, words signify/
And they symbolize, many signs of the times,
I can hypnotize with a file of the rhymes/
From the filing cabinet that I keep in my head,
I be the figure in black, like I'm reaping the dead/
Soul collector, mole detector,
Feeding more brains than Hannibal Lecter/
Thought projection, rot perception,
Fucking with me? I hope you brought protection/
Still collecting, freak show specimen,
Still no gentleman, microphone denizen/
Citizen Toxie, The Noxious Offender,
Rocking suspenders and shocking the tender/
Imperative narrative, forever blow up,
Grey haired in a wheelchair but Never Grow Up/
Track Name: Am I-produced by The Night Owls
Am I

(chorus)
How high Am I?
Higher than a mountain
travelled by any Trekkers,
How fly Am I?
Fly-est of the council
but I ain't selling many records/
How low Am I?
On the flooring but I'm never
throwing in the white towel,
How grown am I?
Soaring up in the sky
flying like a Night Owl/

(V1.)
I give a hoot but I still pollute,
And commute in two boots while I try and compute/
How you wanna be stars, owning more than three cars,
All I need is a phat beat, a notepad, and weed jars/
I got bars for days, you goto bars for gays,
Flame you with word play and another verb phrase/
Set the stage ablaze with an outpour of decibels,
I'll rock your house party or outdoor festivals/
Intestinal fortitude, has always been an attribute,
Relative importance like the magnitude of gratitude/
Aptitude proves my inherent ability,
Flipping on the mic with coherent agility/
Legibility filling me, infamy,
Evil fame that I embrace in full dignity/
Giving me, but never ever fake it or cheese it,
And couldn't really give a fuck wether you take it or leave it/

(chorus)
Am I too high?
My head is in the ground
& my feet are in the clouds,
Am I too fly?
Even dressed down
I'm standing out in a crowd/
Am I too low?
Speaking my mind
& don't throw you no bone,
Am I too grown?
Seeking to find
& avoid the postpone/

(V2.)
Caught in a Webb, like Vinnie Price in The Fly,
Got some shit in my head, I called my homie Beshai/
Never ceases to amaze me, how I spend time,
To make an underlying message in the span of one rhyme/
Even though most folks won't even read between the lines,
My thoughts should provoke mysteries within minds/
Am I thinking too deep with my lore & perfection?
Twisting up speech to open doors of perception/
Bring it to the table with some overplaying wit,
Cus nowadays most MCs ain't saying shit/
Selling souls for bottom dollar & applause,
While me & people come together for a common love & cause/
Realer than most, or revered as a joke,
A no brainer of a choice, to think clear as I spoke/
Never cloaked no gats, or fight slanging six shooters,
Just bump on the racks, like banging big hooters/

(chorus)
How high Am I?
Higher than a mountain
travelled by any Trekkers,
How fly Am I?
Fly-est of the council
but I ain't selling many records/
How low Am I?
On the flooring but I'm never
throwing in the white towel,
How grown am I?
Soaring up in the sky
flying like a Night Owl/

(V3.)
Disgraced many scholars, lacing brawlers,
Life is like a race and everybody's chasing dollars/
Living in a world where it's make it or break it,
A journeyman explores to see how far I can take it/
Used to push the envelope but it was filled with smelly dope,
I still push the envelope but now it's full of deadly quotes/
I rock folks wether pre wrote or freestyle,
Meanwhile the senile be all up on my penile/
Jumping on my case with a case of negativity,
I got the time and space like concept of relativity/
Creativity, my reason for being,
Never short on ideas with all the treason I'm seeing/
Keep feeding me fuel and I'm a keep coming through,
Deep lecturing you, just like Mr. Drummond do/
What you talking bout' Willis? always give it to you pronto,
Modern day pirate muthafucka call me Hondo/

(chorus)
Am I too high?
My head is in the ground
& my feet are in the clouds,
Am I too fly?
Even dressed down
I'm standing out in a crowd/
Am I too low?
Speaking my mind
& don't throw you no bone,
Am I too grown?
Seeking to find
& avoid the postpone/
How high Am I?
Higher than a mountain
travelled by any Trekkers,
How fly Am I?
Fly-est of the council
but I ain't selling many records/
How low Am I?
On the flooring but I'm never
throwing in the white towel,
How grown am I?
Soaring up in the sky
flying like a Night Owl/
Track Name: Who Got Balls?-produced by GROG
Who Got Balls?

Now....It started out with Ludichrist in 1986,
They were the first pioneers, bold enough to take the risk/
Crossover thrash, "Most People Are Dicks",
Hardcore metal with some rapping in the mix/
"Green Eggs & Ham", "Government Kids", "God Is Everywhere",
"Fire At The Firehouse" and it's not fair.../
I'm one of the first white boys who peanut buttered on the rap jam,
Scratching dad's records, looping beats up on the tascam/

No one had balls to mix it different and mash strong,
Nobody had the balls to run with it and dash long/
Amalgamate the styles you were guessing would clash wrong,
(But) Kabal got the balls to be fucking with a thrash song/

1987 is when the metal mixed with rap tracks,
RUN D.M.C. & Beastie Boys were making mad stacks/
Cool J & P.E., guitars on the fat wax,
"I'm The Man!" by a band called Anthrax/

No one got balls if they never hit a mosh pit,
See me "stage-diving" like I was jumping out the cockpit/
"Front flips", "windmills", "skanking" obnoxious,
"Picking up change" peoples dropping out they pockets/

Speaking of change, the scene started to change,
Artist stepping out the box, whole hearted with range/
But the closed minded ones, always thought it was strange,
How I found rap and hardcore one in the same/
Different worlds running parallel, I'm showing my gratitude,
From "Attitude Adjustment" to "Niggaz With Attitude"/
From "C.O.C" to "The D.O.C",
S.O.D., EAZY E, M.D.C., EPMD/
The recipe that got me feinding for the mic in my hand,
Forever dreaming of me rapping with a hardcore band/

Still, Nobody got the balls to try and mix it up and mash strong,
No one got the balls because they thought it wouldn't last long/
Amalgamate the styles you were guessing would clash wrong,
(But) Kabal's got balls to be rapping on a thrash song/

Hardcore music brings you back from the dead,
The same way rap music gets you banging your head/
Fake clowns get ready for the shakedown,
Looking like the "D.R.I." guy, when I hear a fucking breakdown/

Hopping on the grass, 92' was a blast,
Started doing punk/raps with my band 3 n' Pass/
Then in 1995, evil live with The Wiggaz,
And by the end of 97' I was a full time Grifter/

So who got balls to try and rap like this?
Who got balls to attack so brisk?
So who got balls to tackle tracks like this?
Kabal's got balls, the rap anarchist/

Who got balls? X2

So who got balls to try and rap like this?
So who got balls to attack so brisk?
So who got balls to tackle tracks like this?
Kabal & Grog got the sacks for this/ (shit)
Track Name: Puff Puff Pass-produced by Mister P
Puff Puff Pass

(X4)
Puff puff pass muthafucka gotta get it,
Puff puff pass muthafucka gotta hit it/

(Part One)
2 n' Pass straight steady with the Buddha,
Mr.P & K-BALLZ coming through ya/
You never knew? we still be doing the do,
Old habits die hard in a die hard crew/
No Willis in my Bruce, I got the illest of juice,
Kill a douche with a noose made with realest of the truth/
And the words that hang ya, the verbs that bang ya,
Animated verses like perverted manga/
Legend of the over fiend, ending of another dream,
Sleeping with the enemy and playing for the other team/
Seems to be your only means and reason for existence,
See me in the distance, coming with resistance/
Drumming with persistence, war paint, war cries,
Handling our business, more bass, more highs/
Killing mics with Myers and reconvene,
On Friday the 13th, Devil's Night & Halloween/

(Chorus)
Puff puff pass muthafucka, gotta get it,
And hit em' one time with another to the face,
Puff puff pass muthafucka gotta hit it,
And git em' on point with the funked up bass/

(Part Two)
"My good friend" hooked the beat up ready to deliver,
I cut it up like J with a machete in the river/
Always gotta giver like I'm Deaner in Fubar,
Always gotta giver cus I'm keener than you are/
Weenin' for Jew bars, & stealing Accused parts,
Shuffle it together like some Demons with skewed arts/
Avalanche sabatoge, caravan Spanish bands,
Couple of outlandish men, damaging the savage land/
Drunken praying mantis style, do the funky chicken while,
I'm illin' on the microphone and spewing like a sickened child/
I'm triple XXX, you represent staying virgin,
Fucking with your mind like an Epileptic Brain Surgeon/
Hurting for certain, keep it white boy corny,
Jizzing with the rhythm, keep your wife so horny/

(Part Three)
Wack is back cus you rap like that,
Get smacked with a snapple and the bottle go crack/
Leave ya coughing in a coffin, phlegmin' with the venom,
No Saxon, but tougher than your leather and denim/
Blue jeans, routines, new greens for my team,
Eyes always red never using the visine/
Dropping dimes, your life fade before it through,
The good die young, I'm still safe at fourty two/
Wife number two, still eternal for life,
I coulda been in your shoes with the turn of a knife/
So you can see I'm still Kev.T master of ceremonies,
Hurricane Theo, disaster to bury phonies/
Dirt digging while the kick drum kicking,
Like a Timex watch cus I'll never stop ticking/
Goin overdrive but I don't even drive,
Drove your ford to the levy but the levy was dry/
Running out of gas, another puff puff pass,
Clash of Titan Greek bothers with the rough tough blast/
I be the last in line, while you envy me son,
Because they got me Public Enemy number one/
Track Name: Come to Daddy-produced by Double D
Come to Daddy
(V1.)
Sexual advocate, magic intercourse addict,
Never bag it when I'm banging, but the outcome is tragic/
Diseased hedonist, needing this, repeated bliss,
I reminisce, every deep seated cheating kiss/
A single-minded journey, of a selfish experience,
Traveled the world, committing every crime, delirious/
Serious nihilist, unfulfilled of stimulation,
Searching for a new high, to find the lament configuration/

(CHORUS)x2
So if you wanna get freaky and nasty,
I'll craft you into trash bags vastly, and stash them in my caddy/
"come to daddy"
Appear classy, Knife flashing steadfastly,
My raspy voice lastly splashing/
"come to daddy"

(V2.)
An artifact, a puzzle box, most unconventional,
Said to be a portal, to an extra-dimensional/
Realm of unfathomable, carnal pleasures,
I finally got my hands on this marveled treasure/
Headed back home, and made a shrine consisting,
Of flowers and bonbons, and a jug that I pissed in/
Severed doves heads, and a square made of candle-lights,
Offerings, to the box inhabitants, the cenobites/

(CHORUS)x2

(V3.)
Religious order came forth, unusual in appearance,
Dedicated to the most, extreme sensual experience/
Scarified, mutilated, twisted in excess,
Modified to the point, of being totally sexless/
Nonetheless, they made an offer that I couldn't ignore,
Promises of things, I hadn't known before/
Despite their warnings, I continued the game,
Learned they don't differentiate pleasure and pain/

(CHORUS)x2
(BREAK)
(CHORUS)x1

(V4.)
Eyes wide, surprised, by this well found art,
Incisions and pins, in my Hell-bound heart/
As it sank to the bottom, body parts stank rotten,
Just a fragment of the man who was once Frank Cotton/
Hooks and chains, contained my frame,
For an eternity of torture, with myself to blame/
I'm in a pile on the floor, as they churn the mess,
Still hoping, someday, to return to flesh/
Track Name: Seven Thirty-produced by YU-C Beats
Seven Thirty

(V1.)
Started as a child, who was fiendishly wild,
Couldn't get enough extreme, fuck your medium & mild/
Hit ya with a stapler, like your name was paper,
I wasn't in my zone if I wasn't in a caper/
Uncontrollable, always dysfunctional,
Munching on some bugs just to make you uncomfortable/
Playing mind games, instead of playing simon says,
Syphon gas while I stump ya with a lament rhyming quiz/
Stymie kids like an optical illusion,
Brains-a-mess from my illogical confusion/
Truth be told, I've never been all there,
Youth get bold, you better call a pallbearer/
At the drop of a hair, or at the drop of a dime,
I can snap like that, and pop right out of my mind/
Cus with the push of a button, you can summon Kevin Theo,
Cleaning out your clock, stuck on seven three zero/

(Chorus)
Seven thirty, seven thirty,
I start seeing red and my visions getting blurry/
Seven thirty, seven thirty,
Hit you with the kitchen sink cus I never fight dirty/
Fists of fury, cus your mouth was to wordy,
Hitting flurries, but I'm just to sturdy/
Chirping birdy, getting cooked like a turkey,
Seven thirty, seven thirty/

(V2.)
I bomb nasty, tearing calm crafty,
Get you with the claw like I was Baron Von Raschke/
So pay attention while I'm teaching you a lesson,
Hatchet to the face now let me axe you a question/
Making progress, but I seem to regress,
Whenever suckers stepping to me they all feel the repress/
I seem passive, then shit gets drastic,
I turn spastic and leave you with your ass kicked/
I get sparked by the sight of you red,
Stomp my trademark on the side of your head/
Got a few loose screws, so if you're lighting my fuse,
You can bet your bottom dollar you'll be battered and bruised/
Refuse to lose, I never ever tapped out,
Never ever crapped out, cus my raps got clout/
Backstabbing, sucker punchers try to wrangle in stealth,
"What goods it gonna do against a man that strangles himself?"

(Chorus)
Seven thirty, seven thirty,
I start seeing red and my visions getting blurry/
Seven thirty, seven thirty,
Hit you with the kitchen sink cus I never fight dirty/
Fists of fury, cus your mouth was to wordy,
Hitting flurries, but I'm just to sturdy/
Chirping birdy, getting cooked like a turkey,
Seven thirty, seven thirty/
Seven thirty, seven thirty,
I start seeing red and my visions getting blurry/
Seven thirty, seven thirty,
Hit you with the kitchen sink cus I never fight dirty/
Fists of fury, cus your mouth was to wordy,
Hitting flurries, but I'm just to sturdy/
Chirping birdy, getting cooked like a turkey,
Seven thirty, seven thirty/
Track Name: All Wrong(f.Tank Diggs)-produced by Tank Diggs
All wrong

(Chorus - Tank Diggs)
I know,
what I know,
and I know,
this is all wrong...

(V1.)
Godamn, since the dawn of mankind,
Most men haven't treated man fine/
You take a look through the history books,
There ain't nothing but murderers, liars and crooks/
I can't hook one sex cus that would be discrimination,
Both parties are guilty on many different occasions/
Fast forward a few centuries, inventions and technologies,
Incredible advancements that were merely once philosophies/
Just the thought of these dreams turned realities,
Must of brought a few handfuls of casualties/
Clearly that's an understatement, but it's for the betterment,
Of people and society, but mostly for the government/
We get more bent, the more straighter the time line sails,
Ya think we'd learn from mistakes, not be nine time fails/
Truth hurts & no one wanna listen,
So ya push forward on your stupid little mission/
We grow and grow to new lows beyond gone,
I know what I know, and I know this is all wrong/

(Chorus - Tank Diggs
I know, what I know,
and I know,
this is all wrong...

(V2.)
Enter the dawn of 2015,
Everything's wrong like a lousy shit dream/
The more we press forward the more we step back,
It's so deplorable, y'all be schlep slack/
Matter of fact it's so wack how you use the new truth,
Forever disconnected while you're on the Bluetooth/
Walking around like crazy people talking to ourselves,
Faces in our phones conversations are stealth/
No wealth no home, but you got the latest gadgets,
You can't use em when you're laying in your caskets/
It's so tragic you slave for the machine,
So they tax ya to death & withhold the vaccines/
And police everything so you can never get ahead,
And speaking of police another 40 kids dead/
40 slaps on the wrist, 40 pigs on the payroll,
And you wonder why the fuckin brothers sellin yayo/
& hydro, still no gun control,
More fun to spoil, more young to boil/
Turmoil to spill, more world to kill,
More bodies to drop in pursuit of a bill/
More hearts to get broken, lies to be spoken,
Egos stroking, more provoking/
Hoarding remedies, lacking clemency,
Flying over seas and attacking the enemies/
Embrace the amenities until it's all gone,
Tank Diggy let em' know this is all wrong/

(Chorus - Tank Diggs
I know, what I know,
and I know,
this is all wrong...

All the ladies, driving men crazy... All wrong
And the babies having babies... This is all wrong
All the politicians, on self serve missions... All wrong
Everybody bitching with petitions... This is all wrong
All the racists up in our faces... All wrong
And the fascist bastards... This is all wrong
All the billionaires too greedy to share... All wrong
And the squares, who don't care... This is all...
Track Name: Run! - produced by BWC Gerg
Run!

(V1.)
Welcome to the Royal Rumble, straight out the urban jungle,
you getting pummelled & stumbled like you was Mr.Bungle/
A drunk clown, buck town, duck down, chuck ground,
Luck bound, pluck crowns, and we're here to fuck sound/
I got Priors like Richard, so quit you're bitching,
stop the snitching, contradicting or I'll hitch you in stitchings/
You couldn't spit so clever, or fit together,
You'll never ever, be better at solving puzzles whatever.../

(Chorus)X2
You see me coming with this mic in my hand ...
you'd better run,
You feel the drumming, and the thunder is coming...
you better run/
Guitar is strumming with the humming and buzzing...
you better run/
Forever crushing, destruction, you bet your ass...
you'd better run/

(V2.)
Run to the hills like Iron Maiden, I'm name taking,
You straight faking, forsaking, while I'm making the bacon,
Gun tools, son fools, stun yous, bun hools,
Spun rules, shun schools, and we're running your jewels/
I spit fire like a zippo, a hungry hippo,
You Weeping willow on your pillow, dealing with the sicko/
Schizophrenia will drain ya, degrade ya,
Enslave ya, Euthanasia couldn't save ya/

(Chorus)X2
You see me coming with this mic in my hand...
you'd better run,
You feel the drumming, and the thunder is coming...
you better run/
Guitar is strumming with the humming and buzzing...
you better run/
Forever crushing, destruction, you bet your ass...
you'd better run/