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The Perps

by The Perps

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1.
It's the Perps It's the Perps, y'all! Take ya back to Nerf ball/ Show you what a couple beat nerds are really worth, y'all/ It's the Perps, y'all! Take ya back to Nerf ball/ Show you what a couple beat nerds are really worth/ None of these misogynistic, problematic artisans/ Who contradict the part to play. At art, we are the heart of it/ From the start to the Apocalypse, the hottest shit is off the lips/ With respect to all the kids who listen, build, and cop our shit/ It's not about the Perps, per se, it's all about the nerve to say/ We do this for the love of it, if none of it is purchased, hey.../ At least we knew what we wanted to do/ Stayed true, saw it through, and put it out there for you The Perps don't perpetrate, we're simply perpetrated/ For those that imitate, I don't blame them. We're the greatest!/ Next on the mic is Billy with the latest/ Perps project in your ear, it's not too late to hate us/ Now, what can I say? I'm simply used to it/ If the industry don't like us, they can shit in the pot and stew in it/ I live it for the music and enjoy myself with losing it/ Super-cali-fragi-lyrically I'm on some stupid shit/ Loops dig the path for my vocals to come through with it/ Scoop up my tempo and fluidly I move with it/ Deep Rooted instrumentals at the end of every movement/ They're there for your enjoyment, nod your head, or even you could spit/ Put it on a record, send it back, maybe use it for your demo/ We've got plenty more to send you in the future It's the Perps, sweetheart! So, sweat to the newbies/ This one goes out to the girlfriends and the groupies/ If this blows up, you'll maybe see us in the movies/ But, we won't forget you, girls, you're why we even do this! I love the attention, and touching unmentionables/ Love it when you mention the Perps as pleasurable/ Love it when you're pressing up to get credentials/ As the next frontrunner who wants to feel special/ Love when you say my name, even when you guessing it/ Love it when you're playing games with my sense of confidence/ I love it when you're modeling, love it when you're swallowing/ all the compliments that I've been practicing on and polishing/ Love it when you move your lips, love it when you move your hips/ I love you for it all, baby doll, let me prove it The Perps don't perpetrate, we're simply perpetrated/ Suspects for the crime of denigrating haters/ Next with the beat is Deep Rooted with the latest/ Perps project in your ear, it's not too late to hate us
2.
Human/God Complex In real time, my life is grating/ Frustration til mealtime, then reflection debating/ Which way to lasso the past, pull it with me/ Take in the sunset, have sex and think/ Laid between plush pillows to lust middles/ Crush quibbles, give life a new riddle/ Evolved from slave traders and cavemen/ Some brave hearted, some crooked/ Paved their own way to the future/ No one fucking took it/ Deceived were those too many generations ago/ Who believed they were gods and people treated them so/ I'm left in the apocalypse, in the midst of human-god complexes/ To write over beats that computers have processed This is the next time, your present is past us/ This is the time that you said you'd impress us/ We've got all the time in the world to digest this/ So bring it along, let us know what your best is
3.
Get or Be Got Get or be got, who's the best shot?/ Who'll be the one laughing when the winner takes the pot?/ Get or be got, who's the big shot?/ Who'll be the one laughing while the rest lay to rot?/ Get or be got, who's the best shot?/ Who'll be the one smiling while the rest dig their plots?/ Get or be got, who's the big shot?/ Who'll be the top crab to pull down and bloodclot! Place your naked neck up on the chopping block/ Turn your ear, swallow up the hemlock/ Rest your temple on the barrel, make sure it's cocked/ Limits are drawn like hopscotch in white chalk/ On sidewalks that bounce souls back to the soft clouds/ Murder and chaos are silenced by the shrouds/ That are wrapped around the crushed head of the dilettante/ Who won't know in death that they considered him a savant/ For the bathroom walls he bombed with a scribbled font/ That read, "Resentment is based on a silly want"/ Suicide begets the first act of rebel thought/ The lower crust busts back with angelic onslaught/ Indifferent to death, but adamant about costs/ Of dignity lost and swathed with a bloody cloth/ All is not lost if the absolute is recognized/ Revolt without cost is a paradox, suicide/ Acts as the first recognition of rule defied/ Put into action, then murder is justified/ With resolve that a right cannot be denied/ Revolvers, sticks, knives... we use as our reply/ But, eye for an eye will make revolt nullified/ Back to resentment, cemented in foolish pride/ Revolt is based on the premise there is a line/ That oppressors have crossed and they did so by design/ Find a way to express how a right's defined/ Every tool is a weapon if you know how to hold it right/ Every tool is a weapon if you know how to hold it right/ Every tool is a weapon if you know how to hold it right/ Every tool is a weapon if you know how to hold it right/ Every tool is a weapon if you know how to hold it right/ Every tool is a weapon if you know how to hold it right/ Every tool is a weapon if you know how to hold it right/ Strapped up, elastic tape around plastic/ Drastic measures cause immeasurable panic/ Fuck the checkpoint, if they find it I'll blow there/ If I duck the bastards, then the cafe? I'll blow there/ John Brown present day, press on with precedence/ Burn down the colony, take over the residence/ Respect was lost for a fair fight, as evidenced/ By the lifetime I've spent losing relatives/ By the contracts that lost all their relevance/ By the contacts of mortars on my tenements/ By the tanks that roll over my family/ By the banks that fund all of my enemies/ By the mines we step on in open fields/ By the seeds we plant that will never yield/ By the votes denied us with no appeal/ By the ropes that separate ground from heels/ By the batons they hopelessly choke us with/ By the bombs they throw at our only kids/ By the fires they set in our homes and it's/ Enough to take me right over the edge with this/ I'm beyond redemption, I suggest you hedge your bets/ Protected by holy right, life-force infinite/ The line is crossed, so I'm crossing back over it/ Inflicting the same pain on those who first taught me it/ They'll pay with their throats opened up with shrapnel/ They'll die with dishonor stitched to their lapels/ If they live, they'll do so looking up at castles/ To see what they've reaped when Baby Beast rebels/ Winds of society change their evil ways/ As history rears up and spits back in your face/ History rears up, spits back in your face/ History rears up, spits back in your face/ History rears up, spits back in your face! Get or be got, who's the best shot?/ Who'll be the one laughing when the winner takes the pot?/ Get or be got, who's the big shot?/ Who'll be the one laughing while the rest lay to rot?/ Get or be got, who's the best shot?/ Who'll be the one smiling while the rest dig their plots?/ Get or be got, who's the big shot?/ Who'll be the top crab to pull down and bloodclot!
4.
2025 04:45
2025 Feel what's real run through your fingertips/ It's the edge of time and nothing stops the crime from passing lips/ It's planned in project corridors, in clouds of rancid piss/ In basement studios, with who knows who's in the mix/ There's no excuses anymore, rusted metaphors/ Stuck to the mesh of microphones and closed down corner stores/ This isn't music, this is revolution in an aural war/ Propaganda put in measure, standard grammar into fours/ Want to go and grab it, because you like the way it patters?/ For a pittance you can pitter with it, pity it doesn't matter/ Chitter-chatter with the hatters, mad with envy over matters/ We can't weigh in to say our shit for fear we'd lose what matters/ It's utter madness, empty nonsense/ This is the theme this is the beat, this is the scene this is the street/ this is the life this is the word this is the real this is absurd/ this is the shit this is the next this is my heart this is my breath/ this is my hell this is my death this is my claim this is my threat/ this is what came this is what went this is the right this is the left/ this is the center of all discontent/ this is disrespect, this is a fallen nest/ this is a broken neck, and this is where she slept/ this is the truth, this is the mood, this is the cool, this is the cruel/ this is awake, this is asleep, this is complacency/ this is the same, this is my friend, this is the end, this is the... <Without change, something sleeps inside us. The sleeper must awaken.> Where are you going? This is the way. This is the path that led us astray/ This is the place we left, but not the same we left it/ This is not the heart we had, it's all been left molested/ Nothing's left to salvage, nothing but project housing/ Nothing but runners running, gunners gunning and mothers shouting/ Nothing but empty viles in a vile emptiness/ Nothing but gentrifying where people died to pay their rent/ Nothing but money spent on broken dreams, where salty sweat/ is soaked into the puddles where motor oil stains cement It's all been written like the scripture. The fix is in the liquor elixir/ Phallicism and philistines, masochism and vasoline/ Passion plays, flashing scenes of holocaustal, ghastly deeds/ Master races face the screen, manipulate it all to seem/ As if evil's place is in between the buttocks of some fairy queen/ Battered wives, bastard kids, calloused hands and broken skin/ Tobacco stains and residue to trace it back to where it begins/ Saccharin and plastic souls left them all to be exposed/ Without a history, it's cyclical mystery/ A sick mind and those behind to march in time with the party lines/ This has happened plenty of times, and every time we see the signs/ and every time we sit there blind/ and every time we look behind us, all we see will reap disgust/ This is the theme this is the beat, this is the scene this is the street/ this is the life this is the word this is the real this is absurd/ this is the shit this is the next this is my heart this is my breath/ this is my hell this is my death this is my claim this is my threat/ this is what came this is what went this is the right this is the left/ this is the center of all discontent/ this is the center of all discontent
5.
Little Red Riding In The Hood That's the one right there, right off the bus/ Nebraska-type eyes, break it down... easy to trust/ Blue jeans, raggy blouse, hair in a tussle/ Skinny too, hasn't showered... perfect for the hustle Hey there, Sugar, where you going to?/ Soft little hands, no one to hold onto?/ Pouty pink lips and perky little tits/ Make a man feel sick to see you like this/ You don't need to tell me who it is you run from/ You don't need to do anything, I'll give you my love/ Need a place to cry, sleep, and eat soup?/ Put you in some nice clothes, show you what city girls do/ You can have my money, see my car, get inside/ Yeah that's real leather, baby, genuine rawhide/ Now put the seat back, relax it's all good/ You don't know, but you're in a very bad neighborhood/ There's no telling what these wolves would do with fresh meat/ But, don't worry, I'll protect you and keep you safe on these streets/ So, what, you fourteen, fresh off a volleyball team?/ You had big city dreams to bust out of those blue jeans?/ We'll form a new team, you and me, that's the scene/ Make some cream, take it easy, live life in smokescreens/ Nahmean, little woman? Open up that glove box/ See that pipe, see that lighter, see those little gold rocks?/ Let me hold that for you, keep the lighter going blue/ Breathe in, hold it in, see? It's better than glue/ Oh, don't it feel good? Make you sexy and smooth/ Let me unbutton that blouse, baby, we're in the right mood...
6.
The Onion Files Peel back your lids, open up to the outside/ Hear 44 rounds peeled back by the curside/ See how they peeled back their words when the kid died/ Peel back the newspaper pages, and you'll see lies/ Peel back ten years and you'll see the same thing/ Peel back twenty years and you'll see the same thing/ Peel back thirty years, you'll see the same damn thing/ Peel back forty year, you'll see the same thing/ Peel back the next layer and you'll find the taxpayer/ Whose money went to Cold War and never to social welfare/ Find out how each layer grew to keep the worms out/ Find out how nothing could stop his mind from the burnout/ Find out how time makes men's hearts dry out/ Find out how many times lives are caught in buyouts/ Find out how to lie and keep your life timed out/ Suspended in the sell out until your worthless sum is ground out/ Ashes to ashes and dust to dust/ Dust is 90% human waste, but what of us?/ Peel back a layer of skin and see the dust/ We lust for the money to clean ourselves up/ Peel back this wave file and you'll find my brainchild/ Peel back the face and find the skull will hold the same smile/ Peel back the years and find out the meanwhile/ Steal back the time and decide if it was worthwhile/ I peeled off the mask for this, revealed the central task in this/ Not for anyone but me. Feel me? You never asked for this/ I peeled back to nakedness, no fake in this, it's basic/ You have every opportunity to layer on the hate to this/ I'm wasted. Placed here to debase/ This face of nothingness. This place is space/ Is all an illusion. I'm using the music/ To let loose with the abuse that I've accumulated foolishly/ Pulled to the coolest thing, toiling in madness...
7.
Who to Trust? It's the wordsmith, who spits iron into fires/ And relies on acumen to attack men conspiring/ Against me, propagating Perp status/ I'm perped to perpetuate these other cats' fatness/ Fascism's prisms of with us or against us/ Classism's prisons built by lords and what they rent to us/ Maxims are waxed in the lies that are spread to us/ Ask them why taxes are not and they play dead to us/ Feds shed tears, just like the rest of us/ Hold their kids dear, just like the rest of us/ They'll do anything to keep their jobs like the rest of us/ Careers are premised on fears they can fence to us How can I say who to trust? <Bust back kid!> Put your life in your own hands <Bust back kid!> You think I'm saying this for shock value? <Trust that kid!> But, how can you just sit there? The United State of Complacency is facing/ The reality of getting off its fucking ass gracefully/ Waste stuffed into pasty faces, making them/ The fattest nation, and they blame it on the agency/ Stubby fingers linger over remote control destinies/ Bloody sphincters and tinctures as cure-all remedies/ Gels and plastics floating in entities/ Who call themselves beautiful, move us to empathy/ Reality TV has replaced reality/ And tacky facsimiles are what we call "talented"/ Any phallic likeness is power, and balance is/ Just an abstract term in this kingdom of callousness How can I say who to trust? <Bust back kid!> Put your life in your own hands <Bust back kid!> You think I'm saying this for shock value? <Trust that kid!> But, how can you just sit there? How can I say who to trust? <Bust back kid!> Put your life in your own hands <Bust back kid!> You think I'm saying this for shock value? <Trust that kid!> But, how can you just sit there? Sit there!
8.
Dante's Introduction What would you say to the leopard, when trudging through the mire/ When you've reached the gates and contemplate what all men must desire?/ Is there reason to be afraid for all the decisions made?/ Did you ever free yourself from master after freedom from being slave?/ Did you bide your time away in complacent lethargy?/ Did you shake your fist and spray the spit of futility's decay?/ How can you take it back? How can you recompense?/ Who's there to give forgiveness? To whom do you repent? Won't you tell me, what you know now?/ Never too late, please do not disavow me Wolves and lions at the entrance, with philosophers in attendance/ What a splendid affair if not for Desperation's presence/ Fatherless infants cry the words attending poets lost/ Death becomes this lot deprived of son and holy ghost/ Abandon all hope, all you who enter here/ This is the hell beyond the measure of minutes, days, or years/ Forget what once was ours and accept the boatman's keep/ Breathe the stagnant air and fall into your restless sleep

about

The Perps are:
B~ill: William Resh
Deep Rooted: Steven Rubin

credits

released January 1, 2013

Produced by Deep Rooted
Recorded 2000-2011
Artwork was Made In Abearica
Additional vocals by Pamela Long

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