No Royalties

Pay no royalties. Sample yourself

Find an old spice and believe in yoursmelf

It feels so nice achieving more wealth…

Or so I heard, I’ve been deceiving myself

Beats and rhymes have been increasing my health

During them times when I’m not breathing as well

Assuming that turtle temperament; not leaving my shell

Music and family came and they retrieved me from hell

That’s a whole different story to tell

Now I’m feeling so swell

Vishnu’s got my hands towards the ceiling, for real

The track’s completed, revealing our skill

The sample’s 7 years old. And yet I’m feeling it still

It’s nothing magic. We ain’t healing the ill

We are ill. And we’re stealing the bill

And that’s the dealy; the drill

There’s no concealing the spill

Hit you with the breakbeat fill

Followed by that squealy harmonica trill

ANTI-GAME

No budget

Making music for the simple fact that we love it

ANTI-GAME

No question

That we don’t give a damn about who we’re impressing

ANTI-GAME

No nonsense

Keeping it catchy without sacrificing content

ANTI-GAME

No stopping

Getting old fast. Slowing down? Not an option

Exhume a tune written one afternoon

Next to the half bathroom in the backroom

Just a tad soon on the downbeat a bad loop

We had to make do with what we had dude

Clean up the slop with pristine sample chop

Lay hot drums on top that pop off with an ample drop

Knocking your boots, high tops or sandals off

Lock it up, render it down and hand it off

To Leftwrite to write some tight bars

Rife with insight into life no trite memoirs

That incite me to write my parts

Original! The only style we bite: Ours

We might spar but never stray far from loyalty

We’re water and flour not water and oil, see

We royally broke with no budget for fees

So we sample ourselves for free; pay no royalties. Yo