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"Not content with releasing one of the finest debuts of 2009, 5 O’Clock Shadowboxers followed it up last April with an arguably better EP. The brilliance of Broken Clocks is in the way it takes a panorama scope – with a greater number of collaborators, remixes and samples – and turning it into a more focused record. Blurry Drones is a ferret with the crates, digging up aural gold and flipping it the simplest and most effective way. But he and Zilla Rocca have also loosened up their neckties, altering what was previously moody and shoulder-shuffling to something ready for the floor. On the mic, Zilla sounds lean and confident, his flows crackling with black-tongued wit. Get your claws on this EP or risk getting clocked out."--Matt Shea

Broken Clocks Glossary, a guide to understand the hard-boiled language of 5 O'Clock Shadowboxers

Bird baths: onlookers
Blue collar laundromat: nine-to-five job
Boogie man: police officer
Bottomfeeders: gossip folks
Buttons: police
Chalk: shotgun shell
Cold metal: old pistol
Crazy straw: cocaine habit
Dirt naps: funeral/coffins
Dollar store: shooting gallery
Dosage: bribes
Drivethru boombox: weak music
Dutch act: to vanish
Eric Lindros: divisive hockey star for the Philadelphia Flyers
Lolita: temptuous young lady
Low dose Adidas: exclusive sneakers
On the lam: on the run
Paper planes: money
Permanent summertime: Hell
Powertools: automatic weapons
Skirt: female
Step-dad: imposter
Think tank reminder: brilliant idea
Twilight spoiler: a drink before sundown
Two dollar lunch: alcohol

credits

released March 30, 2010

5 O'Clock Shadowboxers are Douglas Martin aka Blurry Drones and Zilla Rocca.

All songs produced by 5 O'Clock Shadowboxers
All beats by Douglas Martin aka Blurry Drones except where noted

Recorded, mixed, and mastered by Zilla Rocca @ The Lizard Lounge. Philadelphia, PA from April 2009-March 2010

Artwork by Objektiv 1

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Three Dollar Pistol Music Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Zilla Rocca, the bottle breaker, corner store crusher, dime store detective, pulp fiction sage, comic book kingpin, the noir-hop creator.

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Track Name: No Fury (Zilla Rocca Remix)
Tell me why I shouldn’t cry
The guy who killed my friend killed himself before I caught him alive
Now that’s unfortunate for both sides
We used to throw paper planes and watch them nosedive
He caught a bad one, his sister just dropped out of school
And caught a fast one, a greyhound running on fumes
I’m fumed though like South Philly’s Vincent Fumo
In my dreams I can’t fight, my arms move slow
You can’t fight what’s coming up next
So I’m hotter than the liquor on your breath, breath
Breathe carefully, don’t share the same air as me
The greenhouse effect and bounced checks only scare me
Not your bullshit, your spine is made of Big League Chew
We used to cop that for 50 cents
That ain’t new, stop that, you’re turning my screws
I want to smash your fucking face but then your face would improve
“Not cool” I know that, my friends might hold that
I might say the word and you might get your vote scratched
But I elect to keep you on the ticket
‘Cause satisfaction comes from watching you living
Badly, you catch me in a donnybrook
I’ll bandage Bruce Banner or Bigelow Bam Bam with bangers
Bad man coming’s, quiet anger
Quite danger-ous to be a hanger-on, all arms get cut-off
That’s you baby, that’s him, that’s her
Bad news baby, and that’s for sure

Hook
Look inside my eyes, all fire no fury
My ex-bitch married some douche, no fury
Some asshole hit my car, no fury
He who loses control, loses
Look inside my eyes, all fire no fury
These jerkoffs wanna talk shit, no fury
I’m the designated driver every weekend, no fury
He who loses control, loses

I’m focused on the upper echelon
Rose petals I step on like grown men who sleep with a dress on
This is comedy no more
My man was stop-lossed three times for the same…war
Pardon me for not giving you change
Horribly I look strange, remarkably I’m caged
I want to just scream and flip over tables
Throw me in the slam with Suge, we’ll start a new label
And I’m signing ever fuck-ass who played me light
This ain’t the song, I’ll knock you and still say goodnight
Wild river bank, think tank reminder, I’ll grind ya
Supply you to the crickets and critics will find it pious
Pile on the fucking debt that I kept
Riding home from a session while your bitch ass slept
Boogie man with the buzz cut is waking me up
I see no evil, tape my eyes shut, no fury, I’m nuts

Hook
Look inside my eyes, all fire no fury
I can’t catch a break in this town, no fury
This fuckbag owes me two stacks, no fury
He who loses control, loses
Look inside my eyes, all fire no fury
Whatever happened to matinee prices, no fury
I left my fuckin phone in that cab, no fury
He who loses control, loses

Good writers never die, wack rappers do
I chop bad apples into apple pie or apple juice
Half of you won’t be here next year
The other half that does will still pay to enter clubs
And even then, you’ll pay ten bucks for Long Islands
And get no airplay, your song’s too violent
But this ain’t for the ladies sweating on the dancefloor
This is for drunk dude by himself, therefore
I fear no reprocussions over DM’s productions
He plus me equals we be disgusting
I be online with my CD’s hustling
You sell used cars with weak speech stuttering
You’re cumber bunning it, but I’m cool as cucumbers
It’s stunning, the fire in my eyes like a storm cloud thundering
I’m Wonder Boy, the Natural, sparks raining on the field
I can’t lose control with nerves like steel

Hook
Look inside my eyes, all fire no fury
Another packed show, no dough, no fury
My favorite Dunks got hit with mud, no fury
He who loses control, loses
Look inside my eyes, all fire no fury
I paid that fucking bill on time, no fury
Another record store closed down, no fury
He who loses control, loses
Track Name: Dirt Naps
I give dirt naps to third party bird baths
Watching like a house cat, you quiet as a church rat
(Back in the days) Back in the days I was tentative
Ricky Rachtman, summer days, Bon Jovi "Bad Medicine"
(Slow it down) Take it down slowly
Art house bitches are found around homie
You clowns are roadies
Check my mic levels, make sandwiches, baloney
No kitchen staff, no kids just yet
But one day I'll be a dope father
My pops had a heart attack scare, why bother?
To worry about some internet love (Who the hell is this?)
The blog boys got holes and can't fill 'em up
Cause a Zshare link don't equate to real buzz
Take a walk with half of Clean Guns
I'm stunting on a budget but I still clean up (WHAT!)
Bouncing back from Camden to Delaware
You dancing in my puddles, no Fred Astaire, never there
Null in void, neverless, live alone, I'm spitting less
CAUSE SHIT AIN'T BEEN MOVING ME!
So I base my latest chase and tastes on old movies
Wear tie clips, slide sly dick in broads bougie
Then I dump'em for a two dollar lunch
It's good karma, Shadowboxers always practice their punch
(POW!) Sock you straight in your kisser
And I'm diesel, motherfuckers I've been training all winter
So that dirt nap I give you is warranted
You wanna live marvelous? Shit, you just Marmaduke
A big dog based on pure fiction
And women think scars are cute, come get some
Heavy melodic, run around quiet compound
Only Megan Fox could make me wanna dumb it down
He's counting minutes for the record date
He speaks in third person like Metal Face
Doomsday, Soothsay Hey Kid's your favorite
New shoes and ill suits on my back, I made it
But this is just the prequel
From the boy who played ball five blocks from B. Sigel
I got my Bachelor's, I'm forced to regal
You logged on a messageboard, you're forced to be feeble

[Bridge]
Dirt naps, giving out dirt naps
Dirt naps, giving out dirt naps
Dirt naps, giving out dirt naps
Dirt naps, giving out dirt naps

[Chorus]
Cable man gotta fix my mic
Short circuit for the Slow Twilight
Can't remember my Friday nights
Half moon speaks the Slow Twilight
Cable man gotta fix my mic
Short circuit for the Slow Twilight
Can't remember my Friday nights
Half moon speaks the Slow Twilight
Track Name: It's Always 5 O'Clock Somewhere
Her name was Brandy, a white russian
Hair smelled like toasted almonds
So I played it Tom Collins, kinda sweet not a problem
We linked Up at Long Island while in college
She was making rounds playing My Fair Lady
I tended bar at the Smoky Martini
She walked in on the 7th of July
With green eyes that shined like tequila sunrise
I said it's still early, we don't serve until 1
She said it's hot, i need a spritzer from the sun
I told her pucker up or something, I ain't serving
She said "I'm old fashioned, daddy fix me a bourbon"

Hook 2x
Drinking at one?
No, sorry I lied
It's 2, 3, 4, 5 o'clock SOMEWHERE
Five quarters in the jukebox
Two for five dollars, happy hour

Her name was Ruby, a white lady
Skin smelled like Bay Breeze, she drove me crazy
We shared paradise in Cuba Libre
A quick fuck, a BJ, we moonwalked for three days
But the amaretto quickly turned sour
Cause Harvey Wallbanged her while Jack and Coke plowed her
A rusty nail ripped through my heart of fire
Set me off like a carbomb, she was the driver
I followed Ruby as she trimmed Satan's whiskers
Screwdrived her front door, looked through her pictures
Then Harvey walked in with an irish flag
I turned around scared, smacked him, then he laughed
I pulled my .357 from the waist
Aimed at his face, he swallowed hard, no chase
He tried to move, I started firing
He said, "It's St. Patty's Day, everybody's Irish!"

Hook 2x

It’s going down bitches, listen, my addiction is ripping
Like gears shifting, and my world’s Sprewell’s spinning
Take pictures Andre Aggrassi, brown baggedy tragedy
Banging penny shots with copper cavities
Crazy straw for the 20/20, funny funny
Always sunny silly Philly, no money bloody bloody
3 O’clock call my cuddle buddy and her cousin
Trying to poke her face like Kid Cudi though her grill’s busted
Number 7 bussing it, busting on customers
Cussing like a sailor tell children “ear mufflers!”
Go to Mieneke, my Hieneken’s reminding me
While I’m puking up some chia-nese like a hydrant
Liquidation like Catastrophe and E-Swift
I King Tut my secrets like Egypt I keep them
Falling off the wagon no horses to carry me
Divorce is not option till our bartender marries me

Hook 2x
Track Name: No Resolution 2 f/ Has-Lo, Elucid, Nico the Beast
[Intro]
Ice ice ice
Gold gold gold
Lives lives lives
*Burp*

[Zilla Rocca]
This is No Reso, cold metal, don't forget
Nobody panics when Iraqi children get wet
We, take it back to little league: we win, we eat
Pepsi/Coca-Cola, sin or deceit
There's no water in the hydrants no more
Cars and newspapers, shit I ain't buyin no more
Oh my! I tossed my smokes in the river and I watched them float
While the noose got tight around the informant's throat
I got my gloves on, I moved on, I whisper a song
Think about my face and how it looked before I was born
I been a, local god with the twilight spoiler
Took him, at least a lawsuit from all my employers
You wrong, set in motion my notion to keep it silent
Eyes grow wide, here's a porkchop for lions man
Why don't you take a dip inside a shark tank?
Test your fuckin faith, we ain't the people that God thank

[Has-Lo]
Thinkin' bout taking my own life, I might as well
The world is about to end, the guy with the sign can tell
He's my new CNN satellite
Shove a bottle mouth in a bag in your back, hold 'em high
For your ID that I keep
In five weeks, be on your way to being a vet or meet death
Gave him that ultimatum, next day he had the best eggs he ever tasted
You don't know me anymore
You art and repetoire couldn't hold me in the form
I got a head full of violence that thus ends
I'm way beyond frat boys who crush cans
Reading anarchy fan zine pages
Print them at school and give my dorm new wallpaper
The security can bill me
I'll be on the quad cleaning my concealed piece

[Elucid]
Straight you see sun through the haze fog, fluffing them stone pillows
Can't cry me a river, kiddo
Nickel size hole in my pocket, can I cock it?
Yes I can indeedy here's the plan to make it speedy
Fuck the God who you believing in, survival be the premium
Shake em like a preemy, pardon me this shit is tedious
Strong arm expedian, make em feel the fever motherfucker
Bloody eyes and all, so disgusting
My American Graffitti bomb the galaxy, I'd rather be
Unlacing my Adidas, kick my feet up on Polaris
All I see is static, crippled by the deficit
Never second guess, I see niggas killed for less than this
I just want a bigger piece, let the trigger squeeze
Sirens screaming in my dreams, such a freaky scene
Wanna run at me at your own risk
I'm only blowing steam to keep on loading them cold clips

[Nico the Beast]
Yeah, there's no resolution, men are using dead excuses
Seven heads are rolling, never lose it, keep a cool head
The evolution of better music, my execution perfected
I never lose my grips until you're all dead
I'm tripping out on acid, a manic depressive
No expression, life is heading in a tragic direction, yeah
I have no fear of the gods, you hearing me God?
The thought of my son's ashes brings a tear to my eye, yeah
It's alarming how much karma is charming its way
Into slimmer margins like "'Scuse me, pardon me babe"
Part of me smartily says "You gotta behave"
The other part is saying "Fuck it" that part of me stays
The economy is calling me names like Deadbeat, Loser, Low Life
Yeah all of these things
I'm bugging out, I wanna be something for once
Fuck sleep, I'm about to fuck her cousin and run, Beast

[Chorus]
This is no reso, cold metal, dope distribution
And no resolution will save you tonight
This is no reso, cold metal, slow execution
And no resolution will save you tonight
This is no reso, cold metal, dope distribution
And no resolution will save you tonight
This is no reso, cold metal, slow execution
And no resolution will save you tonight
Track Name: Nullified
[Hook]
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby

Small victory, big defeat
Buy CD's for the good shit, the garbage my computer keeps
MacBookPro, I'm backed by the good folks
At Beat Garden Entertainment, hard shit for fucking laymens
Hard shit for hard rocks, heart collapse
Bitches airbrush "Shadowboxer" on the ringfinger
Flipping packages but don't deliver, NARC cats
Find yourself a Dog Whisperer, don't bark back
I used to date a barback with scars on thighs
A broke down Chevy, never asked for a ride (I loved her)
Then she left me for a lawyer
I told her "I'm your Huckleberry, not Tom Sawyer" (So beat it)
The mic is on so leave it
Low cut t-shirt with cleavage, I flow so indecent
No proposal is needed, I see it, I speak it
A banger in the inbox is nothing, it's how you freak it
Like some jailbait Lolita, low dose Adidas
You a fucking joke I don't repeat-a
Throw some turkey on my pita
But no mayonaisse cause my sodium intake is lethal
Here's a message for the people: black, Latin and white
Flow God, Douglas Martin, Mack and the Knife
And to these motherfuckers blah blahing the blah
My blog is ClapCowards.com, don't read it

[Hook]
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby

Bring the dough in, income is nodding off
Bills are a nightmare, do I check for you? (Not at all)
Those spending days are nulified
Other rappers lie to you and namedrop cars they will never drive
Like we all need entertainment
To keep our mind off the mortgage payment, but just acknowledge that
Me? I'm living good, I got the college cash
Washed in a blue collar laundromat, won't hand it back
But I'm money folding, no gloating
Throwing coal in the furnace, they hot for a moment
So I'm with that, bad with powertools
Jack Bauer drum breaks, crispy clean Howard Hughes
OCD Clean Gun factory, bullets kiss Clorox so rapidly
Your dreams are nulified, outta reach
Permanent summertime, man how's the heat?

[Hook]
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Motherfuckers getting nulified, nulified
Lullaby, lullaby, sing for me baby
Track Name: Dead Queens 2 (Egon Brainparts Remix) f/ Jawnzap7 & Miss Amy
[Zilla Rocca]
They brought me on the case after day 17
Former Beauty Queen vanished at 33
The buttons had no leads or motives
I had to chase rats with more dosage
This case was explosive, a skirt on the lam with no notions
Just a ransom note sent with twelve roses
The flowers reminded me of a pimp named Marco
Who strung out angels on charm and strong nectar
I knew him from before as a failed actor
Now he chased kittens of the queen's stature
Caught him at Bob's Place, yanked him by the throat
Broke his thumbs before he even sang a note
"What do you know about this girl?", pulled out the picture
He whistled like a wolf, I punched his kisser
He said, "She probably pulled a dutch act, or maybe she's a tweeker
Or she kidnapped herself, they are attention seekers
Those pretty ones"

[Chorus-Jawnzap7 & Miss Amy]
She's my dead queen, a pawn's wet dream
The king's red beam
Aiming at your neck now
The bishop, knight, rook all look
Shook to the core
Her body laying on the floor, wow
She's my dead queen, a pawn's wet dream
The king's red beam
Aiming at your neck now
The bishop, knight, rook all look
Shook to the core
Her body laying on the floor, wow

[Zilla Rocca]
I grabbed the northside trolley, to see Johnny
Her former manager, he seemed sorry, probably
Discovered the queen when she was 16
A failed romance between them, she left him at 23
The number 1 suspect but he was spotless
It doesn't mean he wasn't the accomplice
He noted that she had a drug problem since August
She lost sponsors, then went to rehab and got a sponsor
All of this well known, so why was she gone now
The tip line was overflowing and they lost count
The ransom note seemed legit and Johnny went down
To the drop point, but nobody showed up
The FBI called it a hoax and moved south
Johnny pleaded, he knew she was alive somehow
I said, "when's the last time you went to her house?"
He said, "It's a been awhile, let's head there now"

[Chorus--Jawnzap7 & Miss Amy]
She's my dead queen, a pawn's wet dream
The king's red beam
Aiming at your neck now
The bishop, knight, rook all look
Shook to the core
Her body laying on the floor, wow
She's my dead queen, a pawn's wet dream
The king's red beam
Aiming at your neck now
The bishop, knight, rook all look
Shook to the core
Her body laying on the floor, wow

[Bridge--Jawnzap7 & Miss Amy]
She sleeps in the earth cause the rent is dirt cheap and
Responsibly green, know what I mean?
She lies in a state of perpetual grace and
Waiting for praise, nothing to say
She sleeps in the earth cause the rent is dirt cheap and
Responsibly green, know what I mean?
She lies in a state of perpetual grace and
Waiting for praise, nothing to say

[Zilla Rocca]
Knocked on the door, Johnny would go in
No signs of foul play, though gas fumes were potent
Duct taped her mouth, handcuffed her own skin
Kidnapped herself (her body laying on the floor now)
Roses on the counter, past issues of Oprah
Hoped to rebrand herself on talkshows an'
A plot so wise, but she was thwarted by
Carbon monoxide (her body laying on the floor now)

[Chorus--Jawnzap7 & Miss Amy]
She's my dead queen, a pawn's wet dream
The king's red beam
Aiming at your neck now
The bishop, knight, rook all look
Shook to the core
Her body laying on the floor, wow
She's my dead queen, a pawn's wet dream
The king's red beam
Aiming at your neck now
The bishop, knight, rook all look
Shook to the core
Her body laying on the floor, wow
Track Name: Weak Stomach (Zilla Rocca Remix) f/ Curly Castro
["Blast of Silence" clip]
Just one more killing then you're through
One more to die, and then you won't have to be alone...

[Zilla Rocca]
My man said he had a weak st-st-stomach
The Twilight is Slow, now we run it
We gladiate and salivate, shit is never great
Shoot up your movie theater, South Philly Christmas Day
There's no coming attractions when I run up and blast it
A garbage bag on death's door, pack it
In like Flynn, the kingpin shoots black dice
Karma won't ask nice, act right
Motherfuckers doing magic on Star Search
Well take a look inside a book like Levar Burt'
Man my heart hurts, and murmurs and beats now
Peel off wigs like Bush/Cheney decals
God lives in the details
Paint me with a broad stroke, I'm a ghost, I don't beast out
My man does that, I don't kick rough raps
This is Living Proof, give me Dap, you're a Nutcrack-er

[Chorus]
Don't speak to the weak of heart
These weak motherfuckers never play their part
Don't speak to the weak of heart
Don't eat on a weak stomach, play your part

[Curly Castro]
Yeah dead moon on New Year's Eve
Roll with Ali Baba and the Beat Garden of Thieves
I'm allergic to the bullshit so pardon my sneeze
Spit 30 Days of Night, leave the city to bleed
No silence, leave prints, fuck CSI
Roll with Morgan and the Frat, shoot wings off flies
Hybrid, share a bed with Beckinsale
Me and Rocca Broke Clocks, now you're Nullified
Beards past five o'clock cause we never shave
Never raise on a bet when the count is off
Weak stomach from that arsonic and old lace
Them old bitches is safe, they was never caught
Run Sin City in some charcoal Chucks
Cause I'm selfish at heart, not giving a fuck
Had a nightcap with hip hop, the chivalry stuck
Threw a roofie in H.E.R. drink, got her throwing it up

[Chorus]
Don't speak to the weak of heart
These weak motherfuckers never play their part
Don't speak to the weak of heart
Don't eat on a weak stomach, play your part

[Zilla Rocca, Curly Castro]
I shop around for my crime rates
My $2 gas, the Delorean's in the driveway, why wait

Your garbage raps with Mr. Fusion
No better place to put it, don't look at me sideways

I got cannons that spray and they dampen your face
Recession time, rappers can't get a fucking date, no

Your ass is a dollar short and more than week's late
Petro is pricey, it saves you the gasface

I'm a blue collar comet, with shoe polish, I promise
Your crew's like a drivethru boombox, it's bollocks

Beat Garden collards for when I get my smoke on
Respect to Tupac but this ain't "The Same Song"

So take it how you wanna take it, me and Castro underrated
But David Lynch said, "They're my favorite"

We Willie and Marcus, the wolf and the hybrid
When we talk shadows, we don't let the light in

[Chorus]
Don't speak to the weak of heart
These weak motherfuckers never play their part
Don't speak to the weak of heart
Don't eat on a weak stomach, play your part

["Blast of Silence" clip]
You're not marked up, that's a break
You're sweating all over your body
You tell yourself it's the steam heat, but you know the radiator's been cold all night
You know you'll stay in this sweat till they find the body and the news breaks