Ghostface

1. “The Game” (w Pete Rock and Raekwon on Soul Survivor 1)

[Ghostface]
MC Ultra high-brolic bank roll alcahol vulture
Garlic balls dice the shield of ocre
Tally ho pitty-pat backgammon pro
Pink salmon five spring rolls know me, you love my intro
Half a face wig sewed together like Manhattan Chase
Lookin like statue of praise, check behind the drapes
Castor Troy layin for Travolta mic gun pump
Layin on the floor Clark’s bleedin watermelon chunks
Hold up… sprinkle the hash, Tony Chapstick
Snatch RZA last piece of fish right off the glass dish
Butter roll beats bagel tracks wavey hair decks
Lay it down straw hat style, Butterball crown
Time life investments, when broke I wrote the old testament
Crashed domes now perform excellence
Words with the President, brunch with Yeltsin
Gorbachev under Meth’s nuts, he out in Belgium
Six and a half monkeys, twelve nazis
Four disappear, three eight two one flash to thin air
God’s replica no wheel drive motionless mind cresica
Tilt the hat like Esther…

MC Eiht

1. Streiht-up Menace.

Wake your punk ass up for the 93 shot
MC Eiht’s in the motherfuckin house.. gyeah
And it ain’t nothin but a compton thang y’all
And we ain’t nuttin but niggaz on the run
And this goes out to my niggaz.. gyeah

A fucked up childhood, is why the way I am
It’s got me in the state where I don’t give a damn, hmm
Somebody help me, but nah they don’t hear me though
I guess I’ll be another victim of the ghetto
Ain’t no escapin, cause I’m way too young
Pops is dealin, and on top of that got moms sprung
Schemin off the top, pops never figured
That he’d go down by the hands of another nigga
Now my pops is gone and that ain’t no good
Got to follow in the foot steps of the homies from the hood
And where’s the role model?
Niggaz putting brew in my fuckin baby bottle!!!!
Damn, and through all the motherfuckin pain
They done drove my moms in-sane
So I guess I gotta do work so I ain’t finished
I grow up to be a streiht up menace, gyeah

Uhh, come on y’all
Streiht up menace

Now I’m of age, and livin in the projects
Gettin paid off the clucks and the county checks
I’m Fil-ia fresh outta high school, never did I wonder
That the motherfuckin hood would take me under
Gyeah, I’m kickin it with the homies and they got the straps
Off to the corner store, owned by the fuckin Japs
See a bitch in the right lane so I comes with the mack
Astro Bam pulls a motherfuckin jack from the back
Now he’s got the strap to my homie’s head
See him play that shit cool, and don’t be a fool!
He shot my nigga in the fuckin head
I caught one in the shoulder, if I didn’t run I was dead
Now I’m layin in the hospital bed
Thinkin about them punk motherfuckers and my eyes is bloodshot red
Gyeah motherfuckers, I ain’t finished
Be on the look-out for the streiht up menace, gyeah

Uhh, whassup y’all
Streiht up menace .. damn!
Really..
Streiht up menace .. damn!

I’m in too deep
I done killed a motherfucker and I just can’t sleep
One-Time’s tryin to do a smooth creep
And on top of that
Niggaz after me for fuckin one of they hood rats
I ain’t got time for the fuckin bitch’s story
Niggaz want me gotta come to my territory
And ain’t no “You Can Get the Fist”
Niggaz come, and they get done on they own risk
What is it all about?
Should I leave or should I stay cause I don’t wanna punk out
Oh what should I do? The homies say
“The hood’s where it’s good, homeboy, I thought you knew!!!!”
So in the process to show the hood my best
No time to react, caught two in the chest
Now look who’s down, I guess I’m finished
I go out like a streiht up menace, gyeah

Uhh, come on y’all
Streiht up menace .. damn!
And on and on
I guess we outta here
Peace to my niggaz on the run
And it ain’t nuttin but streiht up menaces, damn!
Just like I said before y’all
It ain’t nuttin but a compton thang
And MC Eiht’s in the house for the 93 shot
And this one’s for the niggaz, gyeah

2. Interview
ThaFormula.Com – How long ago did you decide on this man?

MC Eiht – About 2 years ago. Basically, I just been in tha streets for tha last 2 years. I had to come up out tha house and go back to tha streets and just hang out with niggaz all day in tha backyards, frontyards with tha pit bulls, blowing blunts on tha corner. You know just chillin’ and ridin’ through tha neighborhoods hangin’ out at tha lowrider contests and just dippin’ and fuckin with hood rats. I had to get back into that element because if you ain’t in that element, then your whole game gonna be different. You will be sitting talking about, yeah I chilled in a big house all day getting my feet wet in tha pool and all that shit. I ain’t on that aspect. I’m gonna tell niggaz what’s really going on in tha streets still. You have to experience what goes on in tha streets for you to be able to communicate with tha niggaz on that level. I ain’t trying to reach tha muthafuckaz that is doing good and know what’s up. I’m trying to reach tha muthafuckaz that struggling to get there, so that’s what it’s about.

–The author dipping back into his environment in other to write a new ‘novel/album’…retreogressive research?…

Wu Tang Clan called me all tha way from California just to come sit and be in their video “Can It All Be So Simple.” It’s just respect from niggaz like that and you got to have that.

MC Eiht – Yeah, but I’m not gonna compromise myself and my foundation and my fans just to be something I ain’t. Just to get on MTV or TRL or get a Grammy or be at tha BET awards. Man FUCK THAT!! I ain’t gonna compromise shit. I rather tha niggaz who know me tell me to keep it real then some motherfucker trying to give me a check for a Sprite commercial. I mean cause I remember when niggaz wouldn’t do shit like that. Nigga I ain’t fittin’ to do no Sprite commercial or no Right Guard commercial. I know it’s all about getting your bread and all, but niggaz had alot more integrity back then. You could have never got Chuck D to do a Right Guard commercial or Sprite commercial. Again, I understand it’s about getting paid because I’m about getting paid to, but I’m not about compromising my image to muthafuckaz. I’m not about compromising my true foundation cause muthafuckaz gonna question me. Just like I’m representing tha streets, a muthafucka gonna question me if I come out in a movie standing next to Rodney Dangerfield looking like a clown. They trust gonna be broken like damn, we thought Eiht was real for us. So that’s what it’s about, not compromising. Get your money and get paid and do what you gotta do, but if your on that aspect of being a real nigga, don’t compromise shit.

Rare Jay-Z Tracks

1. H.O.V.A.
Who else you know on probation, leave the country for a month to go on vacation?
Listeners, get your brain on drugs, listen up, Mister floss like cocaine dust
Heroin hero, do anything for Dinero like Joe Pesci, Hov is so deadly
Get your mind right, or get it on your left sleeve

2. Don’t You Know
Bonsoir, motherfuckers.
Don’t you know, when you defeated young punk/ Won’t you throw in the towel, stop runnin your mouth/ Don’t you know that we know you jus runnin your mouth/ Cuz when that shit pops off y’all gon’ run in ya house/
Don’t you know, when you defeated young punk/ Won’t you throw in the towel, i’m better with vowels/ My vocabulary murders the dictionary/ flow switching every sixteen, shit’s mean man.
My demeanor is Humphrey Bogey
my spot is solidified, rock-a-bye baby, i sing you a lullaby/ how ill am I, BK to Philladi- niggas feeling how real am I/ I carry two Taurus, niggas they call me Gemini/ Though my birthday is one day before December 5
Check out my melody/ my flow is a felony (Rakim Reference)

Frampton’s Pentagram

If p is narrative and p = 30

p = 3 + 4 + 6 + 7 + 10

The center of the cosmos is occupied by the Polyhedron of the Story-Teller. Here we find, imaged upon various facets, the stories of Malone, waiting to die; or Scheherazade waiting to be killed; of the Decameron, whose narrators wait for others to die; of the Canterbury Tales, told to ease a passage through space as well as time.

The logic begins with Beckett’s Malone whose presence in the solitude of himself provokes two important things:

1. The need to tell himself stories
2. The need to tell himself stories because an audience is peering in.