WYATT:
I’m playing with dynamite
looking at the faces and the pictures of all your
friends friends, I might
Just set it all off and send you the ashes
That passes through my mind
Despite all the times I was blasting
This beat so loud around your parents’ house
You looked out and saw the shadow of a 300D
That wasn’t me, but I was killing it.
Forget it, you wouldn’t understand
I’m lighting the stick and then
BOOM! That’s it.

ANTHONY:
Wyman on the ProCo, Charlie taking photos.
Black and white twirlies, go slow on the shutter speed.
Hit me up in the OK Hotel, this shit’s drawing flies
What the fuck be that smell?
At the Croc Cafe playing old school hits
We’re the opening act for 7 Year Bitch
Busting out glass in store front windows
Spray painting walls while we’re smoking that indo’.
Fender Strats blast out of Marshall stacks,
Strapped with gats underneath leather jackets.
Camera man pans to 40 on the stage,
CH barfing on the fans, cut the cord
disengage.

FORREST:
Verses stirring dust, don’t underestimate us
Vocal lances piercing, we fierce and it be best to trust
The sustenance that fuels us is potentially metaphysical
Straight from the heart and individual
The meaning critical, eternally residual
Essentially the validation of a spiritual connection
The inflection of a section of text is a lesson in delivery
Confess.
Flow is inescapable, all the words unpredictable
Current pulls you underneath and refuses to let you go
Till you’re drifting free, in a sea of simile
and metaphorically speaking you’ll be blown away
by the sequence of events
Bringing you back, to present tense
leaving you assured, unable to balance on the fence
We’re the realist, the illest, we fucking kill tracks to the max
There ain’t a fucking thing in the world to invalidate that.

SCURVY D:
You can call me Breezy ‘cause I’m like a storm:
one minute I’m calm and the next I’ve tore down the norm.
Walls get torn while tornados are born
as my rage manifests in the physical form.
With habitual scorn, I hate you fakers and lames
you’ve weakened the game with your particular shame.
And I guess I’ll have to swoop in and save the day,
but first I blunt the spinach up and get blazed.