El Niño at his finest, chill and true as I always wanted him to be.
1, 2 387 got the 3, 4 El Niño coming through your floor, excuse me el piso, 5, 6 este un chico with a lingo, I wanna see the world like a little kid sees a free throw, no science, no angles, no skill, just magic, poof and we map it. Decipherable anomalies, you think you can hack it? Man this flow is so ratchet, went all commando even clank couldn’t handle it. I’m no cat in the hat but so suess talented, you swear I trained a platypus to use a freaking abacus. Mi idioma so disastrous, I’m kinda pissed, all this hard work for a light brain trip. Well call this light brain then, rapping with a flow made of puffs and sugarcane meng. Broke all the bulbs rocking in the mental, prove my ideas aren’t so central. Ideas are mass medial centipedes chilling with the pelicans knocking church bell knees. But I guess we all have to feed, starts with a light rooted in a coqui’s feet.
See I come from the jungle marked none shall pass so I just read Aesop’s fables till we crash, burn and alas a new phoenix shows up all in tact. Feathered quills for the task, a tigress out of grasp, and a snake skin suit just to last. Oh check out the cash, monopoly gorillas walking past, but this niño found that shit in the trash, how else could the million dollar pigs be so vast?
Well, it’s just a question, cause I’ve been sitting here guessing, twiddling my thumbs counting down 525,600 seconds; damn I mean minutes. What’s with all the gimmicks? Just tell me how to live my life, question. Nah the beat came from question so if I’m spittin’, is it answer or lesson?
Man screw it, someone call the batman, heard he’s real good with this psychotic kind of land. But if knowledge is passed through the ages then the Huntress got this down like sages. Stop the Vedic hymns dude; Schaecher said Vedas were revealed to me too. A state of higher consciousness is light brain, find me in nirvana under trees, Siddhartha came, told me everything, all about the heavenly things. Trying not to fall on these paper-thin wings but the line between realms has me slipping, tripping, falling.
Just a short drop from cloud nine, a feeding frenzy below blasting Oh My!, So much crated soul, I have nothing for the music but old scrolls. Take my arms for your quilled testaments and find my light split just like the rest of ‘em. Following my path to your ear’s lair, breath in between your palm’s air. I always find myself denying what’s really there.
released November 13, 2012
Credit to Question for making this ridiculously chill beat. And to reiterate I do not own this beat.