Untitled

A song with no hook. The medicine that is making music.

Facebook wouldn't let me share this music because it thought I was promoting drugs. Ok. But music is medicine. #makeitmakesense

A reflection on gentrification. Time travel. Cyclical oppression. And making music.

lyrics VERSE 1 searching for the perfect snare to make the dopest instrumental grew up modest now I got a piss pot and a window plain clothes good indo no purse to snatch no intentional walk down streets that blacks not lit up Yo, these people are my kinfolks taking neighborly advice from a man that rolls that dice everyday taking chances, advances is it slow to me he thinks I’m moving twice as fast cus I'm nice when I grab the mic 30 years ago this used to be the central so I listen when I have the time to pass long body white walls music bumpin to a tempo deep bass I see faces like mine and money moving through these hands that built these roads and etched somebody else's story into the signs and temples when we get to make our own beats get to make and own these streets the roads that we walk tip our hat off to the misses and the elders when they pass sample stories from grandma's dreams broken glass and dirty dishes lets go

VERSE 2

I think about my mother's hands when I stir cheese grits flip pancakes as big as the skillet everytime I freestyle, I will the stories of 7 generations ask me how I spill it they try to kill Black voices and call this gift an illness the people make a choice to feel it this is the pill they charge you for cause Black trauma slaps cracks like the whip on Tobe's back a drama to record watch it with the family Roots It's the same as the news insurrections the change is coming slow for people that look like you and the charges they don't add up so I stay Grounded with a direct electrical connection find an 808 and move my pen in that direction take a breathe and speak with some intention truth when your body is showing up and your head is unscrewed the best medicine is right back up in the booth I used to dream of having my own mic but now's there’s no excuse got the pedals in my hand these are all my notes and grooves stay soulful

VERSE 3 Good ol days when was that Asking me to go back in time messin up what I know Doc Brown would be against fucking with time wasted capitalism asks you to be patient to breathe while they standing on your neck but you're asking for your check and you worked last week and you grew up on this block and 30 years layer yo, you look mad suspicious during through and testing out the old root like you casing out the riches if you knock on the door to have a moment in the bedroom where you made your first childhood wishes will you leave wit your face on the concrete swinging from a tree that you planted they'll call you crazy say you look far from home and you need to leave the premises i wonder if grandma's refrigerator still running in the basement or if they got rid of it built to last. i take you on a tour over a river and through the wood, uh where I lost my innocence where I ran the bases hit home runs shit was mad ridiculous lifeguards, before my burdens were these middle aged bills I wanted so badly to get rid of it my childhood I'm missin it. credits from Queer Core: Behind the Music, released November 27, 2020 Produced by QueenEarth Bass, Keys, Drums - QueenEarth

NFT owner has the right to resell the art NFT,to publicly perform and publicly or privately display the art.Owner may not reproduce, prepare derivatives, or distribute copies,without the consent of and credit to the original creators.