1. |
It's The Perps!
03:13
|
|||
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
03:20
|
|||
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
04:30
|
|||
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
02:19
|
|||
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?
02:35
|
|||
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
03:39
|
|||
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
|
If you like The Perps, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp