On the Freak Beat feat doseone - Zilla Rocca vs. Clams Casino

from by Zilla Rocca

/

lyrics

[Zilla Rocca]
Check my lineage, son check my lineage
Double Black bottles when I'm penniless
Rappers drink that fruity shit - apple snapple frappatina sugar glass
Diddy sold you citrus vodka, looks like VO5
Have a beer, be advised
Powder keg, not a sound effect, bought a round of drinks and a pound of flesh
Cassette just like a Ruger shoot, suited up with ill repute
I don't go to church and I don't fill the pews
I don't owe you dirt, I don't feel accused
I don't come up short like Philip Hughes
I'm Raymond Chandler up Jacob's Ladder
Ray Manzerick, don't play with actors
Hold the hammer like Basement Crashers
Blame my father, he made me dapper
Before Dick Whitman split shit, Vic Sage
With the hoodie like a ringwraithe, Sam Goody back in tenth grade, get paid
There's something to be said about a boy and his brains
There's something to be said about a boy and his brains
I said it, I said it, I said it, let's get it

[Hook]
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it
One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me
One for you, one for me, on the freak beat
One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me
Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it

[doseone]
Life so much no longer surprised Adam
Unless I form hard rights on all my majoring mind habits
Hop off my human-sized hyenna, drag baggage and ash out
On a face full of sunset, slowing the roar off my chest
Full of generally civil unrest, little invest, riddles my meth
Nodding effects, my crack coded relationship with shit that spills ink
Leaving the barb lion plaques of how I think or don't these days
Rapping pays very little in the greater scheme of humans doing it per square inch on the internet
I wonder if in recent times he has become less window to heaven
Real talk: I like my presidents dead
Few weeks ago white lady told me I'm allergic to bread
I of course blame the cops, one percent in water wet deep with debt
I duel debt to death, then back again and
Burlap sacks full of the flesh I took, the best I hoped
As in a merch booth lost in tough, about how complex the human eye is
No one ever enjoys with a mic did
Rappers get all the credit
You go to see a lion, not the animal they fed it, fuck Texas
Life is an overdriven ballet of banality and critical exits
That's right I said it - fuck Texas

[Hook]
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it
One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me
One for you, one for me, on the freak beat
One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me
Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it

[Zilla Rocca]
Son of Dennis Coles, son of Nasir Jones
Son of Adam Drucker, South Philly barrell busters
This town don't love us, but we love her back
I like my presidents dead, my crew is unsurpassed
See luck's for suckers, and life is cheap
I got my spiritual guides for the price of beef
There is no eye, no ear, no tongue, no taste, no brain
The Richest Man in Babylon, Siddhartha with the chain

[Hook]
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Not looking for the right thing, looking for the right now
On the freak beat with the lights out
Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it
One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me
One for you, one for me, on the freak beat
One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me
Heart going, chest heaving, we listen, you speak it

credits

from Neo Noir Mixtape, released October 29, 2013

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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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