THAT RACKET

by Kapeesh & The Beatfarmer

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

      name your price

     

1.
2.
3.
02:56
4.
5.

about

The Beatfarmer makes beats and I make raps. Together, we made this. We think it's awesome. Hope you feel the same. Download and turn this shit up!!!

credits

released February 3, 2012

tags

license

Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.
Track Name: I Don't Like the Sound of Your Face (Beathoven)
Knockin on the sky, rearranging the clouds, just enough to huff and write names in the residue/
They all mean something, even those I deny/ bold italic underlined/ white swirls through my baby blue/
Got love for many but miss few/ while I cover my ears as to not hear of my issues/
I'm not here, I've been clocked out since 02'/ 16 is when got lost in my first 16/
And I remember every word like they were vows to my future self/ music heals the deep wounds when sutures don't help/
If I got an extra man for every witch I've had to melt/Ii'd skin the day, keep the pelt and safety pinned it to my collar/
Superman-ist of mantis men/ demons marchin in tens/ I eat the first and hawk the skeleton/ domino effect the rest of them/
Excellence strived/
The list of things for which I'd die is so wet and illedgible, all I can make out is my pride/

I'm not in the music business I'm in the business of minding mine/ and business is a boomin the moves I'm making are workin fine/
And everytime I get down it's like you're watchin the planets collide, this is my, milky way rain dance/
Dance, like no ones watchin, and even if they is/ I could give a flying missionary posish'/
I've found my niche/ so when I'm in the pit/ fuckin up yo shit/ blame the farmer it's his beat that got blood drippin from yo lip/
And I'm on it, on it, on it, come find me in CA/ cookin up dope flows to drum n' bass/ in an attempt to melt your face/
It ain't nothin new/ it's something we do/ and we do it proper/ grime it up and add the wobble just to drown out all the talkers/
For sport, I scale buildings while I swat at helicopters/ with a white bitch on my shoulder, count the floors until I drop her/
I'm kind of a big deal/ it goes; music, family, me, then gettin pussy, so you're kind of the 5th wheel/

Nah Nah, Nah Nah/ guess who isn't listening/ fingers in my ears is usually what that means/
Gooooo Awaaaaaay/ I don't like the sound of your faaaaace/
Nah Nah, Nah Nah/ guess who isn't listening/ fingers in my ears is usually what that means/
Gooooo Awaaaaaay/ I don't like the sound of your faaaaace/
Track Name: Imagine That (eatshrooms)
It's melting. My face isn't melting... why the fuck isn't anyone helping?
No way! your kicks are glowing too/ maybe Nike puts tiny little angels in each shoe/
I bet you i can fly. Gimmie your hat and some foil so I can hide my thoughts from the government/
HAHA! You have no idea what your up against/
Hey Mr. Robot, why you chillin on my block?/
This town ain't big enough for the both of us/
What do your hands look like inside boxing gloves?/
Ewoks, are just Arabian smurfs covered in Dirt, McGirt was the rawest rapper to put his feet on the Earth/
Can you eat a twinkie with chopsticks, then we can't be friends/
If you put your arm in there will your rims still spin?/
Roger rabbit on top of that cabbage patch 'til you beat Slick Rick in a staring contest, IMAGINE THAT/


Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, they'll make you big and strong/
Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, it'll make your grandma proud/
Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, then you can rap like me/
Tripping balls 'til the sun comes up...


Fantastic cuatro/ adios muchacho/
Pocketful of monopoly guapo/ head bangin Palestinian rock show/
When Pac comes back from outerspace, he better have a case of Surge wit em/
Atoms I split em with rhythm/ induce venom and sick her/ like she stole my gonorrhea/
I hate R&B/
So can the fat lady beatbox or play jazz flute/
Somebody keeps confusing their dining set with my parachute/
Testing, testing, stupidity is stretching and etching itself into that fuckin sticker on your hat/
You once were blind but now you can see, did you at least leave a patch for that dudes eye you jacked?/
I like big girls that smell like licorice sticks, covered in pancake batter/ mind over matter/
If that was real ice wouldn't your teeth chatter?/
A talented and honest rappin kat, IMAGINE THAT/


Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, they'll make you big and strong/
Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, it'll make your grandma proud/
Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, then you can rap like me/
Tripping balls 'til the sun comes up...


Last night, when I invited Jesus over/
That asshole forgot the batteries to Wii controller/
How ironic of a weak controller/
But he had pocketfuls of chronic seepin over/ so I forgave him/
Lost my marbles, and tried to save em/ and then pogs hit/ and I been slammin suckers ever since/
Funkier than the Fresh Prince/ rounded to the next tenth/ The pursuit of acceptance is never on my checklist/
I brush my teeth during breakfast/
Who doesn't love winterbreeze english McMuffins, I must be on something/ I mean onto something/ It seems I'm not bluffing/ I promise you piggy it's nothing/
Mr. Rogers tattoos times the square root of shaq-fu/ equals an ugly sweater attacking you/
2012 and Obama isn't dead, IMAGINE THAT/


Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, they'll make you big and strong/
Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, it'll make your grandma proud/
Eat mushrooms, they're good for you, then you can rap like me/
Tripping balls 'til the sun comes up...
Track Name: Drool
you are now turned into your imminent doom/ screwed soon as you exited the womb/
rooms with scrooges burnt coffee and wilted tulips/ emitting their disapproval for music of this magnitude/
i'm ravaging these ravishing rick rudes/ staggering the masses, blastin cannons of fish food/
overwhelming your synapses, dub slappin and big booms/
party's crackin, don't be absent, revolution is in bloom/
the roof was never on fire, cause it never existed/
80's misfits found a wormhole to this bitch/
generation-y-not invent and fuck the world hard 'til it indents/
i've got a bent dick/ so i'm always fuckin somethin on the side/ you a frankenstein/ better watch your bride/
kamikaze rhymes, killin everything I find/ you're damn right, for the right price I'll televise my suicide/


it doesn't have to make sense/
it just has to sound cool/
you work so hard on your spit/
i wake up, piss, and then drool/
spit implies effort this is drool...


gimme gimme gimme gimmie gimmie that lighter/
eenie meenie miney bow and arrow shooting ligers/
petey petey pabolito propeller head poppin egos with properly sharpened ninja star shaped pringles/
illegal tacos and flocks of seagulls/ straight jacket for my libido/ finger over your peep hole/ surpriiiiise, how neato/
it's only me though, i'm so evil/
but you like my ooh la la/ shark bait ooh ha ha/ you are not a superstar/
art this, art that, art fag, art rap, art thou just a little label happy, fuck!?/
f and n bombs, the-the shit i get on/ got you throwin hands with the last son of krypton/
crush, build, destroy/ rest it's all noise/ bugs, motors, and sluts, boys will be boys/
threatened by the poise and purpose/ you're porpoise for purchase with poisonous burps your flows nervous, twirp/
wyatt earp wit mad purp/
i stopped pickin flowers for skirts cause thorns hurt/
i've devoured about dozen of em in my heyday/ mayday/
they turn turret and go crazy/
blastin star sperm from the sky it's no wonder why/ fastballs make doves cry/
swooped in on the sly/ and played the wall like hi/... the name's parasite/


it doesn't have to make sense/
it just has to sound cool/
you work so hard on your spit/
i wake up, piss, and then drool/
spit implies effort this is drool...
Track Name: Taste Your Soul
She keeps on passing me by/ cause she thinks she's so fly/
Ultra sly tactics can't dash the practiced/
I've met my match in crafty packaging/
She can't catch feelings. If she does it's barehanded/ and hoses foes/ nobody's ever stolen home/
Gravity has a hell of a time keeping down/ the sharpest knife in the box of crayons/
(Whistle) She hates the sound/ but responds every time/ like one of Pavlov's pups/
When she blows a kiss the other hand goes auto-clinch/ just in case you doubt her tough/
She takes her drink straight cause she ain't sweet/ after stirring it with the stem of the roses she eats/
The show don't start 'til her bangs are peeled back/ thousand yard swag lookin right past you kats/


Passwords, knocks, and secret codes/
Trust no man, to each her own/
But how many licks 'til I crush your mold/
Drown your front, and taste your soul/
Passwords, knocks, and secret codes/
Trust no man, to each her own/
But how many licks 'til I crush your mold/
Drown your front, and taste your soul/


Her boots are made for walkin but she refuses/
Self-respect is up for auction when she chooses/
Don't see ladies like her often and she knows that/
Against her best efforts arrogance levels be oozing/
Frostbitten at the core/ got dudes smitten after spittin to em raw/
Think she's on the level but the level is floor/ where she like to get it in/ she's not into gentle men/
You make the rules that she bends into oblivion/
The exception to sin/
Accept no less than perfection/
When allurement is used as a weapon/
Got them gifts that only her mama could give/
Her reflection is her nemesis and her best friend/
Crazy cliche, like the tattoo's she won't show/
Damned if you do, damned if you don't though/


Passwords, knocks, and secret codes/
Trust no man, to each her own/
But how many licks 'til I crush your mold/
Drown your front, and taste your soul/
Passwords, knocks, and secret codes/
Trust no man, to each her own/
But how many licks 'til I crush your mold/
Drown your front, and taste your soul/


She goes hard all night, cause true control/ gets misconstrued in cruise control/
You're just a fish, in shark waters so don't bother/ playing captain save a martyr/
She goes hard all night cause true control, gets misconstrued in cruise control/
You're just a fish, in shark waters so don't bother/ playing captain save a martyr/
Track Name: This is My Mic (The Emcee's Creed)
It goes...
Hopeless romantic/ scars prove tragic/
Magic isn't real but neither is what you believe/
Children of the static/ at home in the havoc/
The only thing thats absolute is things are what they seem/
Fuck illmatic!!!/
I'm an orange flower in the attic against all odds dying to be/
This ain't my first rodeo, face paint matches the boots/ that style son, who's clowin who?/
No, stranger to danger, rap bangers, or wire hangers/ liars, cheaters, offenders, repeat offenders, and gangsters/
Simply a mask for the anger/ ver-verbal stab at the savior/
I need attention/ please listen and sweeten your criticisms/
It's like shit I'm right here/ I'm human, I hate the whole truth so help me God/
The last time I said "help me God," he probably did but I'm dense and didn't know what was going on/ The road to fame isn't long/ it's just covered in junk thats bound to ruin my shoes/
And I'm known for pushing my luck, and feel myself with the blues/ so when my feet get cut, at least the songs will be, cool/
Cause walking on eggshells just isn't me/ so I tell people to kiss my ass quite frequently/
I dont need a girl, just a psycho who cuts evenly/ have a piece of me, just know im OCD with symmetry/


This is my mic/
There is many like it but this one's mine/
My mic is my best friend. My Life. I must master it as I must master my life/
Without me my mic is useless. Without my mic I am useless. Without a mic I am useless/
So I'ma do this/ cause I have nothing else to offer the world...


It's been a long time/
And I shouldn't have left you/ without a thick splintering noose to put your neck through/
I pity the fool and the goonies you call squadron/ I'll whistle and fist missiles will hit you for just talkin/
Fuck a piece offering/
We don't negotiate with wack rappers/ hipsters and snap-backers/ shroom doin' mad-hatter/
Pyro's, on a mission to Imaginationland in a zeppelin/ because the worlds so bland/
I'm a Dark Sith champion of sky walkin/ the rooms shift shape when I walk in/ oh maaaaan/
You faggots just don't understand/ I exude devastation like radiated Japan/
I assume responsibility for ever word I'm sayin/ so what I'm sayin is I'm not changin/
So far beyond the basics/ my verses stay laced with an ancient cadence that'll slap your mouth and shatter your face in seis places/
I'm so impatient/ I'll purposely OD at 27, title my post-mortem album the greatest/
I'm not intrigued by your celebrity A-list/ just a Del The Funky Homosapien playlist/ to get me through my day/
Bird's eye view catch all this/
Sticks, stones, stars, and spliff's/
I'm so sick/ at conception I was ready for the world, shadow boxing in the womb like let me outta this bitch/


This is my mic/
There is many like it but this one's mine/
My mic is my best friend. My Life. I must master it as I must master my life/
Without me my mic is useless. Without my mic I am useless. Without a mic I am useless/
So I'ma do this/ cause I have nothing else to offer the world...