Jack Wilson Brooklyn, New York

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Track Name: Jack Wilson / South - NEW KICKS
hail mary, full of her son's supper
just swam the channel, hit land plumb tuckered
spic span, big fan of your music
the truth is, I didn't ask the bands if I could use it
face it, it all comes down to labels and greed
all I've got's fables and stables of feed
and an Anglophilic feelin', ain't learnt the slang, but willin'
jack tar - part hero, part villain
smart, chillin' - charm disarmed
the armor or aura is karma
to the Aurora Borialis (or farther)
Broker than a broke with a pence and a farthing
working for the rent, food, and car thing
rather be a bent dude starving, and do what I'm made to
than naked and famous to say what I'm paid to
- one minute, hate becomes love
if you're feelin' what I'm feelin' then put your mugs up
cheers, bitches!
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Elbow - GUTTERFEED SKULLDUGGERY
this holy solar cataclysm blanketing my vision depth
is wrangling my senses in a deprivation tank derision
step into the sanctum of 'it isn't what it might appear'
where bent prisms reflect a light through never-ending mirrors
I'ma travel down a rabbit hole, diminish into miniature
beginning inquisitions into 'which path is the finisher?'
"get back" like Lennon and them when the tempurature is threatening
the ledge don't know your vertigo perspective's disconnected
we tread limbo like our back's to the floor, asking for more
grasping toward heaven, while our tracks are headed fast to the door
poured from the cast of the explorer, Jack is naturally fascinated
cracked the case that made him in a fraction of his maturation
that's the way to act on passion! blasted past the lazy asses
graduated 'master craftsman', never needed acting classes
white, black, asian, latin: strike back! fight the major status quo
the category separation status has to go
if broke, exasperated "joe average" is sewn into your fabric
grab your scrotum sack and show that you're a pro down to the protoplasm
Jackie rip like "Drunken Master" split bamboo stick
you get bodied in the alley, I'm Confusious with this music
on some "now we chillin' Cali with Davu" shit - on some true grit
on some 'I got all this legacy I don't know what to do with'
all these Brutuses, and Olive isn't stupid, but she's clueless
so I pack a pipe of spinach with the goons and stay reclusive
keep it moving with producers, keep it tuned to 'channel b-boy'
got the kung-fu to exude a deeper hue than Bruce Lee Roy
he caught a bullet in his teeth
now it's a never-ending Russian roulette when he speaks

we didn't plan it, but the damage is done
the plants are rooted, they ain't moving, the advantage is won
no need to brandish a gun! son, I don't even speak Spanish,
thug, wannabe, or hunter - prey run for cover, duck, or vanish
one-handed mic-bonded blood-brother gripper
some? branded price/money tongue - 'trust fund spitter'
landed in the front from the back like nothing happened
then you noticed that it's Jack and it sinks in that you've been lapped
due to the fact that it's a tilted axis, bills control the masses
hasn't been a cat this class-action since Robin stole the taxes
thing prolapse, some grow back - time's proof of our decay
I mutter truth and keep the photo booth on shutter-speed delay
gutterfeed skullduggery that hovers like a mothership
incredibly alive, blurry eyes steady on some other shit
the 'ready pop' is plenty hot, if empty thought's your quest or not
this destiny telepathy's a distant, destination plot trajectory
so skeptics ought to give the trough and crest a shot
wave rollercoaster blood vessel that's never meant to clot
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Doves - TALKING to GODS
something erupted from the back of the collective voices
asking that those acting for us better make some better choices
in the daily decisions they've groomed themselves to delegate
whenever heaven/hell's at stake, the faith be dropping hella weight!
with nobody to tell it straight, they sell it through the telestrator
how you take the bait creates a well-debated melon fader
save the exterraneous tidbits for the bonus features
intellegence has grown and we've shown that you'll never own us, either
this music's free as we existing now proclaim to be
I've painted alibis outside of boxes, you ain't framin' me
I'm rockin' over cosmic slop like paint daubs on drop cloths
Doves transmitting via satellite talking to gods
the hotter the sauce the more proper the protein
even though the broccoli tastes too good not to go green
surviving in the wild means your muscle mass is so lean
one could overdose from a tablespoon of codeine

we made it for the movies but we did it from behind the camera
captured the shadows' soul and lit it so it shined as manna
fractured the former whole and measured every shard as equal
enlisted unlimited splinters, to star in sequels
they set the bar unequal, far as the money route
might as well move to Philly, heard it's always sunny out
actors like to run they mouth - stayin' in charicature
we'll call you if we need to fill the role of amateur
don't call us, though - proclaiming major gusto
trying to make your mark, up against the wall with rusto
energy's a must though, it's a rush to find the balance
of the right amount of passion with the right amount of talents
sure, a slight amount of malice might encapsulate your bastard state
just don't become a fashion plate for rich old men to masturbate
it has to take a pride desperation overrides
let's try a second take this time with fully focused, open eyes
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Oasis - SEX DRUGS ROCKnROLL
I'm a hard rock rolla with guitar slap feedback
bar talk geez rap, scratch being that beat back
blast it, rattling the rafters with the reverb
language so dense that you potentially can see words
not to mention the combustion of the green herbs
which ain't nothin' new, you heard how we do in P-burgh
blood thick as two brothers from Manchester
born to live the dream, so they started a band together
fuckin' rock stars, cocky as they make 'em
the hardest way to stardom is to start it in your basement
a check ain't the only way of payment if you live it,
so nuff respect given to the pure scientific
a work ethic and hunger is better than nepotism
any hustle can snatch the money, I'm in it for depth and wisdom
uspeakable, methods that's unteachable
checking the outer edges that they said were unreachable
leaking from the head with words that pour blessed
check Rakim, Red, KRS ignore the rest
lock in, aim, fire flames that scorch hot
see I'ma still drop whether I perform or not
went from hip-hop to rock, around '98 or so
the tick-tock didn't stop, I just played 'em both
Dan, on the other hand, traded his tape collection
we weren't roomates yet, or I wouldn't have let him,
but I got a lot of musical knowledge from that dude
one of two other brothers with a 624 tattoo

Once it all comes crumbling to pieces
some will start to rot and some will try to see Jesus
some will join collective thought and further the progression
the world ain't ending til we learn some better lessons
cuz I've had it with pretending assimilation is cool
I'ma sabotage your water cooler, piss in your pool
start a counter-culture following but never sweat control
give it up to the gods of sex, drugs & rock-n-roll
the devil's got ahold of my ankle, I can't let it slow me
"where the safe? show me, homie"
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Beta Band - GASP for a SPLASH
she flies back today, drives maybe?
just yesterday, she accidentally slipped into my dreamsape unexpected
and I haven't had the chance to say goodbye - she's had plenty,
but the 'hello' was pre-empted, so the parting passes empty
I don't have a bitter bone to whittle down to brittle
still, the organs underneath are somehow still bruised through the middle
it'll pass, and days will tolerate a fraction of my effort
then my boomerang subconsciousness would have us back together
so stupid! so music is a tool to reflect
they say the most beautiful stories come from pain and neglect
one runs, one stays stunned - takes love as it comes
one day maybe I'll be able to say 'thanks for the lumps'
until then, I have the confidence she knows I'll succeed
& there's still an ocean full of 'plenty other fish in the sea'
so how the hell'd she hook me? one look, and I know
maybe I'll see her out in Brooklyn when I'm doing a show...

it's never easy, I knew she'd never need me
but she caught me when I just happened to be hooked on believing
these days, I just gasp for a splash
reminisce past, and wish she didn't have to throw me back

and I don't know why I'm still like this after two years
I tell myself that it was real, and this is just how truth feels
something just sticks. and I guess I like it stuck
I hope she knows I truly wish her all the world in the luck
when it sucks, it just sucks. but it's all good quite a lot
I've got a broken open stutter vocal lock on the box
and where it's stored is as important as forging this career
we might've never had it right, but I liked the idea
and it was nice that I saw lightning in my life and only got charred
got a current I could count on, and some moments that were ours
plus unquestionable confidence - the next hook that I bite
will be devoured with such certainty, won't put up a fight
I had a nibble since that didn't mix, now focused on the music biz
figure, from this point on maybe wait until I'm rich
I want her to see me on tv like she said she saw me to keep me in deep sea

(repeat chorus x 2)
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Charlitans UK - SKIPPING CHURCH
son of: Sam, a bitch, Berzerk
the plan was worse than skipping church
we understand the Earth came first, \
while your rituals stick to the scripture verse
and your literal bids for control of the kids
the soul betwixt lies in a crticial tryst
existence mixed in a mesh of a marketing gimmick
a fixed political system, and a rich division
doesn't really sound like the holy trinity of my religion
I'm wholy infinite and timeless, as the wisest of us knew as well
get out of the get up, kid and admit the system was designed for you to fail
nowhere to go but up from the garbage pail, kid and yet we still dirty
when support or dissent against our national defense can make me kill worthy?
while the Holy Roman Empire is still working, and I'm unemployed
if it comes down to survival of the fittest, head for the bunker, boys!
my 5 digits don't care about your zip code, yo I'm comin' to get it
the revolution can't be bought with a subscription - it's something within us
it's company business to numb the kids out of thinking - quick
jump in and start swimming, cuz it's official the ship is sinkin - shit!

slight hope, tight rope fire lighter, high, fixated on wires
sly twisted, slope rider, grit, grip with fingertip pliers
fly lingual, single dive pilot under a clouded sky guise
around him lie satellites launched from grounded spies with a thousand eyes
Solipsist - I hide in the depths of the ocean during low tide
the water eroded to show shallow MCs washed up, posed in a nose dive
those rhymes don't phase me, yo - equates to low doses of bromide
and it's "go time" - tried to take it to the limit but never got to know mine
gave a nickel for a shoe shine and a tip, dude just spit on my kicks
the buddha pictured pistol to temple exemplifies why I do this
the definition of existential, outwardly connected
sensory reception range explains my method of expression
strange, but technical - brain trained in the makings of a rebel
learned to levitate, communicate with death, and snatch the pebble
ask the devil or your lord and savior - they're the final answer holders
trying to call the shots, perched from their spots on my opposite shoulders...
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Blur - RUBBER to ROADSTRIP
here's a little crackle for your static, the enemy's autocratic
the chemistry is telepathy, energy's automatic
pretend to be at my level and the lasers might incinerate ya
magnetic waves that may obliterate your saved data
eliminate your twitter reputation, and replace it
with a little wooden cuckoo on an hourly rotation
patient, with a bookoo arrangement of different flavors
all the overflow creates a slop I'm saving for the haters
when I'm craving a creative fix, I "stick it in my veins"
life's a Swamp Song - I'm only happy when it rains
you're like some cattle on the plains, staying happy to graze
I started rattling my chains and made it out of the maze
I wasn't bowing to the praise or the manipulative ways
I'm from the days of "who can turn the most rediculous phrase?"
talking a coded language, from a different planet than Wayne's
where we were trained to sharpen, rather than to damage our brains
kinda strange, but the world could use it
he isn't just another white boy making music
but he is a European-American Earth resident
who voted for the first black President

now when focus is the focus, the unnoticed gets exposure
and the modus operandi is more easily decoded
give a meter to a poet and he'll show you how to trip over it
tip-toe vocal spit, grippin' like rubber to roadstrip
it takes a pro to know it's buried in your protazoa
slow the flow to fill a quota? no - we toggle choke n' motor
ten counts of readiness, we zen mountain steady sit
to cleanse amounts of guess and doubt and then spout the heavy shit
this mic ain't ever had a chance from the jump
if this ain't true classic material then answer me somethin'
when: the gauges pass inspection, and the page is that connected
and the new wave spits shit played out like a beta max collection reference
we bobby digital, but bless the true and live it
view the essence that is given through perspective on our vision
one time for your mind, one time
"you wanna try me? first you'd better learn how to rhyme"
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Pulp - the CENTER of ANYWHERE
grazing in the lazy, 'love the way you kick it, baby'
now lick it to seal it and light it along the length
'said the shotgun to the head' "yo I'm cool - you can clip it"
how many hits does it take to get to the center of anywhere?
patterns in the thickness of the exhalation
in that we could stare at clouds for hours, not moving an inch
that's why it burns slow, and turns the world kaleidoscopic
and why the government's gotta declare war on a plant
what I've learned from the last bushel I've burned
is tantamount to spending $80,000 on a college degree
blazin', under-educated, not giving a fuck
academia don't know the half on how to get down like we
"roll that shit, light that shit, smoke it" can even have you flowing
to some non-linear vocals where the rhymes are off
but poets know the rules were meant to be broken, so listen
this one only rides the rhythm and doesn't really require much else
just "fire up that funk!" get perpendicular to preconception
let the hypnotic control your wandering spirit
find me sitting on the top of a mountain
high and mighty enlightened, singing with Mother Earth
while others simply stumble dumb and mutter the words
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Radiohead - the LETTERS of the LINES
just say the word, and lights go out in blinding static in your area
throughout the magic patterns of our psychotropic stare and the
peripheral circumference - like the grid that's grainy in your vision
clicking like the rhythm of your brain when you begin to listen
tripping off the dual way that a wave can make itself displayed
fractals gladly frayed since some old Prankster spiked the kool-aid
and "time keeps on slipping, slipping"
slipping in and out of rationality and purgatory
I might walk that line, but this mentality is working for me
salary by day, but rock the galleries and lounges
patrons don't support the talents, to the wages need to balance
from the stage, it's like a blend of Zen and enemies to rage against
mental sketches rendered 'fore the writing on the page commence
bent - as if I'm sketching out the borders of the shadows
of the letters of the lines that have divinely teleported, traveled forcefully
through exit portals coursing through my nervous system
expertise of intake rid to implement the words given
and twist them over instruments - best to be the grin, reflected sinister
to savor the insanity whenever the solution is administered
left to being solo in the open in a field with only echoes
is the only way to know that we are limitless...

I conjure necromantic words that when heard will dent, blur, or crystalize
Portishead "rip" or distort static like them Philly guys
my eyes are more than meets Transformers, buzzing in my cortex
ear hammers drum as humming echoes through the vortex
and there's something of a missed, distant communication stuck
between my molars and my memory, and I don't give a fuck
so you can mutter all your 'Generation eXcess' stuff in my direction
fuzziness from drugs has plugged the most central connection
I've built it up, so bullshit gets deflected to saliva glands
I spit so you won't notice how continually high I am
focused on the wires and the fire in my center
stokes my kindling to know that folks are liars with their own agenda
rise like the tides when our satellite rock is swollen
wise like the guides of the ages who are holding down the pages
as the wind shifts through its phases on a monthly basis
take it with the eyes the spirits gave us 'fore it all erases.
Track Name: Jack Wilson / the Verve - THIS is the BREAKS
C'mon! you gotta be crazy i'm on it
you made me give praise to a god too iconic
gone are the days we bought it
wide-eyed amazed, afraid to raise a little doubt
like maybe pastor didn't know what he was talking about
like maybe casting calls are plaster when your master calls the shots
so i'm a purga-tortured bastard made of alabaster and snot
puttin' cats on blast like glasnost - half past a monkey's uncle
upright still druggin' our knuckles rockin' a half-tuck and a trucker buckle
unlike the wu-tang clan, this man is somethin' to fuck with
keep on cut copy the come-up while i find new designs to come up with
like what's this? word? you've never heard of the verve
and weren't sure he could murder it,
but heaven's to murgatroid he destroyed it with little encouragement
disturbed nourishment works if it's earnest
to be honest, the perks reverse when you're immersed in the emersion
no one said it was gonna be perfect when jerk went to work with it
he ain't afraid to get his hands dirty with the working stiffs
like only non-commissioned make enlisted listen
pardon the opinion but "you either with us, or you isn't"
this is some combust ignition thrust precision cut for instance
indigenous innards synged indignant from history's ignorance
brace yourself
you're feeling guilty cuz you never wanna face yourself
i mostly lace self-doses of a shell toe diagnosis
overlooking signals tripping down a brick road yellow piss coated
and dismal over-ridden with the sickly in the gutters
we all must bear our crosses, mine just fits me more than others
native zen hippie religion fixed the christian and the bixby within me
and learned how quickly whiskey could turn it all into mince meat
give life the kitchen sink so day to day mine's kinda grimy
time's so tied up that i hired a stunt-double for when suckers try me
i'm holding down my city like wylie with new inventions
like sending true intentions via golden triangle bike messages
or fuzzed out '96 northern soul instrumentals
talked to god through richard ashcroft and he told me not to settle
tapped his phone box back when i rocked hip-hop tapes in the boombox
like i still do but it's iPods and Serrato 'stead of do nots
while the mildew of the sit-still nothing doers drips through sewers oozing
guess you couldn't knock 'em for believing what they're spewing
you could block 'em out your consciousness, but distance is an interesting principle
therefore knowing who you're NOT is pretty simple
i'm on a train of thought toward brain rot make it stop
but take it from the origins of hip-hop if you're gonna bother
i fucks with EpMd AND Zapp and Roger
more to bond thoughts into subtle double entendre 007 homages
that sort of Connery cunning, the artful dodger
snatched your parcel, turned and darted fore you even started running, sonny
your pocket money's been replaced with THIS mixtape
one hell of a relevant sell as well as a piss take
tell 'em all the swellest rappers held aspects of magic
and go listen to my CD if you didn't know you had it
I'm working in the attic where the static crackles cleaner
and the vocals lace the track to break the shackles of of my rap demeanor
cuz either it's ME in-between
or some possessed poetic spirit stealing somebody's dreams
i stopped running from the demons while i'm sleeping,
left me less rested with headaches from the tenstion and a psyche that's uneven
the dead weight started breathing in the deepest corner region
but i'm not another's keeper and i can't afford to feed him
he was feverish and eager so i put him to work
now he monitors the heaven that escapes from my Earth
there's been a myriad of devils that have sworn to be my breatheren
but their horns made me a skeptic, learned to question their intentions
found it better to befriend them since we shared the same irreverence
but i don't know what to do about their never-ending presence
fuck the questions and the constant disappointment in life
all the shit still comes out, if it don't come out right
the beats and rhymes
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Led Zeppelin - OVER the HILL (BONUS TRACK)
and I still remember it like it was yesterday
the 4th graders breakin' on the recess cement
trading back lines of la-di-da-di, in awe of the human beatbox
whodini talked about cheap friends, and when the freaks flock
I wanna cover that when I'm on the mic
you younger motherfuckers rap about whatever you like
I wasn't worried that I wasn't the competitive type
and that I never dug the buzz of the repetitive hype
I'd rather focus on my only life and getting it right
wrap my head tight so I can sleep better at night
let my gut grow along with the days and the overload,
it weighs more at this age and the exposure's slowed

many times I've gazed along the open road

many times many lines like this
get missed when the head is set to catch the funky riff
now I get that you had to have travelled to hear the words right
that's when it occured to me to step into the light

many times I've wandered how much there is to know

one thing time can't take away
is the pursuit of full experience and learning every day
searching for a life worth living and a story told
know when to bet big / know when to fold

I live for my dream,
and a pocket full of gold

from grade school to 95 at Pitt it wasn't standard practice
frat boys were clowning on the backpackers
white dudes that liked rap were frowned on and called names
then eminem dyed his hair blonde, and it all changed
maybe it was dr. dre's praise that did it
but that dude could rip it something sick, we all had to admit it
then everything was internet and everyone was soon legit
mommy's credit card could buy equipment and a press kit
this is where I start to sound grumpy in my old age
but it'll never be better than in the old days
seems I'm hearing that a lot, matter fact,
not saying it's my job to bring it all back
Track Name: Jack Wilson / Brian Eno - SOMBRE REPTILES (BONUS TRACK)
it's time to "go go gadget" get it in a minute like I'm desperate
dare to be great, trusting fate but working late without a respite
is my blueprint weightless? Too smooth of a hue to smudge the pages
doing what the 'keep it true' have done for ages from the stages
comin' up & underrated, hurry up and say you knew him first
not sayin' he's the man but he's the master of his universe
3rd person's for jerks, conserved - earnin' the perks
deserved, learning what works, heard herbs turnin' out worse
occured, blurting a verse could give birth to the next styles
so I'm down in the studio longer than persian textiles
cold sombre reptiles, behold the truest sonic fusion
skewing time and future with an audible illusion
Eno he know Martin, U2, you know he knows new music
so I do it hoping he'd approve of my using it
hip-hop flirting with youth, must be a mid-life crisis
realizing me & this beat are now the same age as I write this
it hits close to home, home slice, when it's nice
fuck the hype, yo it ain't Coca Cola, it's rice
cut the mic, sike I'm fusing with the feedback and I need that
I'm as talented as Mr. Ripley is, kid, believe that
I only listen to Mos, DOOM, Black, & Blu
still difinitively fucks with Definitive Jux too
plus a major lazer shout-out to that dude CX Kidtronix
you should do a beat and get me and Jay Electronica on it
I could vomit out a lot of common culture crap
but I don't spend enough time reading magazines at malls for that
heard tv on the radio playing in American Apparel
couldn't register the raw, staring at sterile
sheep's cloothing, a wolf like me sees phases of the moon as psychic
couldn't regulate my jaw from mouthing "god I like it"
Lord, save us something soon if there's a thing to save
I ponder mortality and give thanks for every single day
I don't give a damn where this ranks on or below the surface
it's keeping me from going crazy, so it's worth it.