The Mind Click Sounds E​.​P.

by Forty Psychic Frames

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about

The debut E.P. of Forty Psychic Frames was recorded from March 2003 to October 2003.

credits

released November 4, 2003

Wyatt Furtherton, Forrest Jameson, Anthony Jackson, Scurvy D, mafia_is_coming, Baby.

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Forty Psychic Frames North Carolina

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Track Name: mafia_is_coming intro
mafia_is_coming:
And now, Forty Psychic Frames.
Track Name: Peep My Cheese
Wyatt:
Later gator, I might see you later.
All these ho's and bitches all over my alligators.
Momma talks, but daddy talks too,
with a bat to your face and the blood on your shoe.

Forrest:
Shut your trap, bitch,
before I toss you in a ditch.
Girl you need to make a switch,
or you be sleeping with the fish.
Up off my jock, ho,
let's see how far that shit will go,
Bitch, get rid that camel toe
Fucking tricky ass ho.

Wyatt:
If you keep it tight it we'll be all right.
I got Pabst in the freezer, I'm going to fuck you all night.
I see your panty hose, little toes, marshmallow, tootsie roll.
You got to rub my toes, go.

Forrest:
Got Blue Rib' in the fridge, and a pocket full of weed.
Girl I know what you want, and this shit is what you need.
You be rubbing on my jock, like you wants some of these.
I got a fat ass wallet, bitch. Peep my cheese.

Anthony:
I got a forty in my pocket, and I just don't want to drop it.
I got a bitch on 8th street, and I just want to fuck her.
I'll pop a cap in your ass, if you gets in my way.
All you motherfuckers, now, are gonna have to pay, bitch.
Track Name: Way Cool Propella Time (The Cocaine Anthem)
Wyatt:
Wy man on the mic.
Girl don't fall off of my bike.
Wrap your legs around me,
while I hold your titty.
We try to keep on time,
so we gots to fly,
down this fly highway number 9.
Clearway ain't gangster.
You be hitting my pager.
Two way time.
Way cool propella time.

Forrest:
Bling blinging on the freeway,
on down the highway,
Niggas on the slow-way,
I on the speedway.
Be dipping in my pocket, be shelling out all my dubbs.
Got thick ass shorties and some goldleaf in my tubs.
Just met you last night, baby and you showing me love.
Bump on over here, momma. give me rub a dub dubs.

Anthony:
Everything be fine nigga, my boy be back
Hop in the car, shootout, kak-kak-kak-kak-kak
in a Cadillac, riding down the highway.
My niggas be fine, dropping the rhymes,
busting them fat lines of cocaine.

Chorus:
Oh baby, cocaine.
Oh baby yeah.
Cocaine
Oh cocaine baby.
Oh, oh baby.
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Cocaine, baby
Cocaine, cocaine,
Yeah.
Track Name: We Pay No Toll (The Street Anthem Number 46)
Anthony:
Got to lace up my lugs,
America's number one thug.
Going to take you out with my nine.
I'm the one your niggas will never find.
Biggie, Tupac, and Kahn,
you’re the next mother fucker gone.
Bitch don't be talking back
Mother fucker drive by, Cadillac.

Forrest:
Me and my dogs we roll.
South bridge we pay no toll.
Hit switches front and back, we keep this fucker cruising low.
Toke up, we get real high.
Got to get some lemon Tide.
Put this ride up on pause, and raise our nines up to the sky.
Kak kak kak.

Wyatt:
Canunks and Kansas fools.
Government killing public schools.
You give me a ton, I give you a bun, and fun, lets work it, work it.
And can I get minute.
You just sit down and hear it.
Turn off the beat machine, and hear me what you truly missing,

Chorus:
Love, love, love
Oh you know.

Anthony:
Ant be back on the mic,
Just killed your family, sike.
But I think your best friend is dead,
I popped a cap thru his head.
And now you be next on my list.
It's the barrel of my gun that you will kiss.
I don't think you will be missed.
Stupid mother fucker you a bitch.

Forrest:
Bitch I got nothing to say.
Maybe I'll be back another day.
Jump in my ride, roll and put the hood down, hey hey.
‘Cause you a fucking buster.
Not even your moms would trust you.
I take my baseball bat, and put your punk ass in a coma.

Wyatt:
We go to the house to get out of the sun.
Then we kick it on the street, show you we number one.
Throwing back forty bottles.
Trying to keep with babies mamas.
Bling blinging in our Benz models.
Maybe get our dicks' fondled.
Word.
Track Name: Turkey With Rice
Wyatt:
Write it out with a pen, you know we win.
We are phat like the mack to the power of ten.
We use our voices as arms,
blowing up at the mall,
bringing down governments like Anthony Michael Hall.
I don't buy this mess of your fake distress,
that you must confess is wack gibberish.
Point, point, counterpoint, elevator shift.
Take a puff and get lift, lift, lift, lift

Forrest:
Yo yo it's Forrest, and I'm back on the mic.
I could rock you one time, and you be thinking it's twice.
Saw your momma on the street, and I rolled her like some dice.
You know how it is, I need some turkey with my rice.
She was nice tight full of spice.
Go, go lady, we can bump and grind it all night.
Yo it's dynamite.
You can find me up in the rafters and I'm rapping tapping.
Rhymes written out on my dinner napkin.
Think I'm napping?
Try again and I'll be kak kak kaking
40PF who you think is really macking?

Sike! Bet you thought I was gone.
But guess what, bitch? Your ass was wrong.
Much more to me than you would ever believe.
If rapping was as good as your mom’s, I'd never leave.
Bling blinging on my trike as I'm cruising the park.
Pedaling around, shit, it's getting dark.
Showing off my spokes so you can see them spark.
Spark, spark, I make my mark.
Take your weed out, bitch I ain't no fucking narc.

Bridge:
Blue jean baby.
Momma was a purebred lady.
Making sure I know your name before we decide to have this baby.
Baby.

Wyatt:
I know it's tough though, I know how it is.
Always being gone thinking all about the kids.
Girl you know I be there,
catch you in mid air,
when you fall from a height great despair.
Let's make this right and fix everything in sight.
Then we fuck through the morning until we see the sunlight.
That's right, you got it girl, we will make it right.
We will fuck, make love, and create a baby tonight.

Create a baby tonight,
create a baby tonight,
create a baby tonight, tonight, tonight.
Track Name: Suge Sucks
Anthony:
Shug Knight: head nigga in charge.
Your ass is large.
Get some liposuction, want to be thug.
Is it something that you got from your mother?
Fat cow, but you know that I’d fuck her.
On the ground, like a bitch.
Pussy itch? I’ll scratch it with my dick!

Wyatt:
Suge Knight can't take a mic to rap a rhyme that's tight as hell.
His mother made him wear her high heels until he was twelve.
This rap game ain't for you, so why don't you take this cue,
to go and fuck a thousand men at a gay barbecue?
You are the worst manger.
This kind of life don't need that thug gangster.
Help and create image of bad rap boys.
Call you in jail while we make millions of coins.
I ain't playing now, one love, one love.

Forrest:
Man what you do to Pac?
Put outlines down in chalk.
Drop that cell phone,
ain't going to be no more hit men to call.
We guard this game now.
You fucking lame now.
You had your fame, but shit won't ever be the same now.
Yo where you at, Suge?
Why you so wack, Suge?
Why you so fat, Suge?
Put down that Big Mac, Suge.
Oh, but it's muscle ain't it?
Bullshit, bitch, look at your tits.
Get new shoes for your feet.
Oh shit, what feet? You can't even see it.
You think that you the shit.
You just a fucking prick.
Go in your bathroom stall and jerk your little one inch dick.
You should go back to jail.
Go back to humping males.
Get on back in that cell before I send you straight to Hell.
Bitch.
Track Name: Peep My Cheese (97.4 KTOR Radio Session)
Wyatt:
Later gator, I might see you later.
All these ho's and bitches all over my alligators.
Momma talks, but daddy talks too,
with a bat to your face and the blood on your shoe.

Forrest:
Shut your trap, bitch,
before I toss you in a ditch.
Girl you need to make a switch,
or you be sleeping with the fish.
Up off my jock, ho,
let's see how far that shit will go,
Bitch, get rid that camel toe
Fucking tricky ass ho.

Wyatt:
If you keep it tight it we'll be all right.
I got Pabst in the freezer, I'm going to fuck you all night.
I see your panty hose, little toes, marshmallow, tootsie roll.
You got to rub my toes, go.

Forrest:
Got Blue Rib' in the fridge, and a pocket full of weed.
Girl I know what you want, and this shit is what you need.
You be rubbing on my jock, like you wants some of these.
I got a fat ass wallet, bitch. Peep my cheese.

Anthony:
I got a forty in my pocket, and I just don't want to drop it.
I got a bitch on 8th street, and I just want to fuck her.
I'll pop a cap in your ass, if you gets in my way.
All you motherfuckers, now, are gonna have to pay, bitch.
Track Name: mafia_is_coming loves baby
Baby:
Oh fuck, oh mafia, oh fuck.

mafia_is_coming:
Baby, very good, baby.
I say, I’ll think, I will think, I think I will love you, baby, soon.
And soon.
After one, or two, or three, or four, or five minutes.
Track Name: Way Cool Propella Time (The Cocaine Anthem) (Heaven Reprise)
Wyatt:
Wy man on the mic.
Girl don't fall off of my bike.
Wrap your legs around me,
while I hold your titty.
We try to keep on time,
so we gots to fly,
down this fly highway number 9.
Clearway ain't gangster.
You be hitting my pager.
Two way time.
Way cool propella time.

Forrest:
Bling blinging on the freeway,
on down the highway,
Niggas on the slow-way,
I on the speedway.
Be dipping in my pocket, be shelling out all my dubbs.
Got thick ass shorties and some goldleaf in my tubs.
Just met you last night, baby and you showing me love.
Bump on over here, momma. give me rub a dub dubs.

Anthony:
Everything be fine nigga, my boy be back
Hop in the car, shootout, kak-kak-kak-kak-kak
in a Cadillac, riding down the highway.
My niggas be fine, dropping the rhymes,
busting them fat lines of cocaine.

Chorus:
Oh baby, cocaine.
Oh baby yeah.
Cocaine
Oh cocaine baby.
Oh, oh baby.
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Cocaine, baby
Cocaine, cocaine,
Yeah.
Track Name: Permanent Neighborhood
Wyatt:
Koneker moniker.
Your cheesy middle griddle.
Everything I said was every little bittle.
Mere cat, whoa now,
my chat goes flow now,
like airflow motor home,
with Henry Beez and Ramona.
Look, all I am saying is this my friends,
my colleagues,my witnesses is that, that,
Christmas weddings are not worth getting
worked up about so don't be a forgetting.
Mix your Tom Collins with the fillings from the fridge,
and don't find the Fletch unless you are packing sledge.
I love the girls in Volvo's now, I won't lie.
Especially if you are me, I don't even try.
I know about bait, and how the camels mate,
So I can make this threesome one unoriginal date,
in Mexico.

Anthony:
Here we go again,
what you want to do then?
Ben Cox, cell blocks,
make me go kaking.
Dark alley way make for a get away.
My nine, your spine,
now what your ass going to say?
Superman ain't flying no more,
for sure,
Nigga’s ass be laid out on the mother fucking floor.
I think I be a crypt tonight, and fight those bitch ass bloods,
who be wearing them British Knights.

Scurvy D:
Like Bubb Rubb said, “it’s the woo woo!”.
Look out suckers, we coming for you.
When you find out what you going to do,
40PF’s already after you.
So, I'll ride down and get a half,
‘cause we smoked the stash,
and this shit is cashed.
And I want to laugh at all of y'all,
but I'm too busy watching Carnavale.
Now Scurvy D is on for good,
220 is my permanent neighborhood.

Forrest:
Check out my tips, they for decoration.
I be sounding them shits all around the nation.
Nimbus be blazing when I strike my torch.
It's small, handheld, and it will scorch your porch.
So I got to go now, cruising down the road now.
DJ Solo up ahead, he's getting drunk now.
I pop my trunk now.
I start to bump now.
My speakers thump now.
Right over speed bumps now.
Fling open doors in front of my friends.
I rap as many rhymes as Erlandson wins.
Keep blood sex secret like it's a sin.
‘cause Christian chat people will put you in the bin.
Mr. Mano stirs up shit in Genealogy.
‘cause the mother fucking Brit's related to J. C.
Take a chip off the story tip and then you will see.
40PF blazing raps, new with Scurvy D.

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