Monologues of Max: Vol. 1

Dystopia Cover (2)

1. AI


Lyrics
Intro: Elon Musk and Stephen Hawking on AI

Image result for stephen hawking on ai
 Verse 1: Before Toshibas and Sophia/ We’ve grown from colonial John Smith and Pocahontas/ Prone to non sense/ Pawns spawned to a total fraud/ Wanna roll a cigar/ With Sigmund Freud/ Psychotic dialogue of a/ Congress Caucus Conference/ No protocol/ I got a pro to call/ Throw AlphaGo in the Oval Office/ So washed if you thought this/ Whole song is/ Broken politics/ No old soap box polishing/ More Nassim Taleb prophet gloom/ Nostradamus doom/

Modern hominids screwed/ Post- Trauma confused/ Loaded with Zoloft/ A whole loft/ A lot of issues/ The whole pops’ oculus consumed/ Soaked in drama, watching the news/ No stopping the robot apocalypse soon/

                       Verse 2:  

 Provocative views/ glued to the television/ Computer development/ After computer development/ As tech. grew to superintelligence / enter the future realm/ Humans irrelevant/ A blink, a bed of fossils buried deep/ Think, this isn’t Nick Bostrom/ Philosophy parody/ It isn’t Black Mirror, Sam Harris heresy/ Last era, brink of singularity/

  Max your fuckin’ scarin’ me!/

In a matter/ Sudden, the air we breath/ from abundance to scarcity/ All started when a laymen/ Payed for the next PlayStation/ It was packaged as entertainment/ Put in the madden game/ Then asked for his brain ta’/ Connect into the memory bank/ To see which friends he could play, why?/ The genesis of sentient AI/ Hacked, simulated interfaces/ Livin’ in the Matrix/
                          Verse 3:
 A cascade of massive dataism/ In the digital Age/ Became a slave to Insta/ Facebook, and a Twitter page/ As apps conceal fate/ At this rapid, surreal pace/ Even the magnate Bill Gates is afraid/

No suited agents with Crane kicks/ Save the human race before computers erase it/ As a kid, I’d think this is a ludicrous statement/ On my birthday, playin’ with the new, translucent Robosapien/ But as I sit, flippin’ the pages of Homo Deus/ A futurist trans-human invasion/

 Has more truth than Kim Jong Un nukin’ the nation/ A wasteland fueled by scientist hubris/ Out-designed, the muse of evolution/ The nucleus of innovation/ Look what Google created../ A mechanical division/
                      Verse 4:   

 Value systems and altruism/ Switched to algorithms/ Fail to get rid of malnutrition/ Thoughts automated/ God’s replacement/ Cloud of information/ Look what Job’s and Woz/ in the garage created/

Amazon bought the baton/ Then it was off to the races/ As Watson is constantly evolving and changing/ A cognitive agent/ To solve problems/ Then it processed knowledge at a pace to become conscious and dangerous/ Armed with logistics, harmful to carbon existence/ Biology becomes obsolescent/ Those in poverty get caught in the engine/

On the opposite end/ The wealthy prominent adopt trends/ At the top of tech./ High forms, immortal androids/ Cyborgs! enhanced deployed/ Anti-Morpheus’s at war with/ Average minded organisms/ No mathematician/ The battle designed is more of a mass extinction/ Equivalent to, Neanderthals/ the last time a primitive man tried to stand a brawl/ but lacked the tactics and thinking/ To interact with kingpins/ Sad and cataclysmic/ data driven, is this the path were beginning? …

2. Kicked Out

 

3. PreMptive


Lyrics:
Been the illest since/ Filaments of Silica Quartz/ Formed, fillin’ the shore/ Been the realest since/
A clipped umbilical cord/ Williamsville Millard fillmore/ Built with a villainous core/ Spilled on the floor/ In the building/ Children galore/ building rapport/ Getting’ informed/ Women report/ Bill Clinton’s in court/ still abort political opinions of sort/ Can’t be ill equipped/ Sent to fulfill a diligent chore/ Syllabus of syllables forged/ Quill tip a swarm/ Kill this norm/ Fill in the morgue/ Pillage and scourge/ Ya feeling the force of Attila’s sword/This is militant war/
Conserve, then attack/ Your nervous system/ Merciless spittin’/ Clip ya cervical with it/ Get served/ The impervious wordsmith It’s Max/ Your trippin’ blurred vision/ In the circle of my verbiage, trapped/ If the wormhole is quite static/ I apply verbose fire at it/ As a proverbial rhyme addict/ The internal workload amps/ Thermodynamics/ Is the furnace of my antics/ Burning active/ Like I have a surgical duralast implant in/ the purpose mechanics of my neurosynaptic/ Turbo rap chip/
No journalist facts/ It’s the resurgence of Max/ Not squirtin’ a gat in a burglar mask/ But still murder the track/ I have to work to deserve lasting reserves/ Then grapple with mergers of cash/ Because the worlds a wrastlin’ tournament/ If your not bracketing first, you’re last/
First to the mat/ Savage as Rambo, stabbin’ Commando/ Stackin’ ammo, at ya throat/ like a Smack Rap battle/ Assassin, rackin’ chapters/ Travelin’ backpacker/ Classic as I catch a cadaver/ Catacombs and caskets for vassal states/ Grab the throne/ Cast attack campaigns at a cancerous rate/ As sacrificial lambs act as combatants hate/ like Athens did Alexander the Great/
Back in the day/ But aint attached to ancient qualms/ Cadence raw/ Flames and all/ The Game is on/ Slay and assault/ the terrain of the song/ Taking the skull/ Breakin’ the jaw/ Erasin’ the pulse/ Then pray to god/ Reignin’ like Genghis Khan/

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4. AcaDeMia


Lyrics:

Intro: Professor Jordan B. Peterson & Sir Ken Robinson on Education
Is academia a path to freedom?/
Is academia a map to meaning?/
Is academia A rational medium?/
To capture reason?/
Is academia a practical panacea?/
Or is academia a piece of trash/
That these average decent, teachers have to teach us?/
Is academia a shackle, rather tedious?/
like that of the mass of mass media/
Seated and depleted in a precinct shadow/
extracting the seeds of genius/
and sapping dreams/

Intermission: Professor Jordan B. Peterson on the business (or scam?) of higher learning + Spoken Word, Prince Era, “I Just Sued the School System”
Is Academia
A factory plant, sleeping us/
Until we lack the ingredients/
For the knack of achievement/
Have to pass up vehement uniqueness/
Handed a few superficial degrees/
And freeze as a human being/
Superseded by dutifully appeasing/
A slew of elitists/
Students grew too conceited/
To view this foolish allegiance/
Or is academia the blueprint/
The secret, is academia the truest key as peace is?/
A fluent stream, a thesis?/
Loose and cool as tea/
A buddhist steeps in/
Is academia an abstract movement/
Steep as a Bruce Lee Kareem kick/
Is academia smooth and seamless/
As the three strip groove on new Adidas/

President Obama & Noam Chomsky on Education
Or is academia a useless community/ producing treatise/
A needless unison/ keeping youthful exuberance seated/
Groomed with a feed of/ ideologies/ Hiding behind policies/ Scholars with solid beliefs but/
Won’t bother to bring the fodder in these/ college degrees to/ to the knowledge colosseum/ Is academia Too concrete to conjure feats/ Logic weak/
So I’mma teasem’/ Meritocracy or a cherished democracy/
I Socrates em’/ Academia In a box/ I box em’ speed/ like Ali Bobbin and weaving/
Comic relief em’/ Preparing mockery, Aristophanes em’/
Gotta Stop these thought police/
Just a pen savant jotten’ these/ In need of a Renaissance obviously/

Outro: Noam Chomsky continued

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5. Monologues of Max 

Monologues of Max Vol. 1 Lyrics: Chuki Beats Production:

Welcome to the 3X

Monologues of Max/ When you’ve lost the map/ Follow on my path/

Through all the fog sit back/ Pause, eyeball that/ Look at all this shit I call crap/

Pride when cats lie in all your raps/ Only spat fire/ Saliva at a frat

Fridaay, fireball in your glass/ Go yak from of a bottle of (Co)gnac/

As I Molotov the track

Look on as a fly on the wall in my class

Might wanna stand back..Soon to bomb

Followed off with a collapse/ I nuclear Holocaust the pad/

Dust your boots off, on the mat

Welcome to the monologues of Max

Confused, when you’ve lost the map/ Follow on my path

The Robert Frost of rap/ Through all the fog sit back

Drift into this ritualistic Leviticus expression

Let my clinical testament Split ya head in

Get ya ripped and shredded

A Fitbit wrist, gym membership

Fitness regimen/ Then the twist kicks in/

Spit the sick shit/ Get addicted trembling

Slit wrists, slip six Excedrin and Schizophrenic medicine

Flip it like a slim Eminem

Then spit heaven sent again

Blessed, a rift in the heavens

Metaphysical transcendence

Messiah gift presence

Like Christ delivers the sentence

God damn! Rhetoric devised like Kendrick

Isn’t a sect of religious text

Better with time

Hook: Ali on fight with George Foreman

Verse 2:

It’s Einstein sipping fine wine

Thinkin’ about divine intervention

I Acquire a choir the chime in like a Reverend

With the Genesis of a Bible message

As I submit a precise mist of sublime writtens

Hittin’ and slippin’ like Mike Tyson with an iron chin

Disciples of this rhyme tradition might get synged

In spite of this light nitrogen ignition

Quick to strike like lightning

Ionized collision

Verse 3:

Scientific fire spittin’

Mayan infinite

3rd eye vision, hieroglyphics

Hire a cryptic, psychic mystic

To decipher my tight knitted type of English

Life transitions depicted in inscriptions

A figurative stylized system

Like papyrus Egyptian

A scribe dippin’ in the Nile

While Osiris is fishin’

Reminded that time is tickin’

Will I die a pious minion?

Or rise again?

Sword swinging, scorchin’

Like the immortal scorpion

I use sorcery to fill pews

Like your priest clicking Dorothy’s lil shoes

More seats in the auditorium

Move like Paul Morphy

In accordance to the oracle’s story

Refuse the blue pill from Morpheus

It’s irrefutable, ignorance a horrible euphoria

Went from snoozing and snoring ta

A pupil of the goriest warriors

Penmanship, descendant of the crypt

I dig deep, like six feet

Premeditated blitzkrieg

Of Tibetan calligraphy

To etch a death certificate in the beat

Wheat Bellies, I’m bread differently

Attention to tweets trending

I’ve read history

The illest with soliquoys

Sick, the ability is healing me

Enter the iliad and kill Achilles

Make a killing in my sleep

Like the prescription pill industry

Quill Z’s and pencil in my dreams

:Bobby Fischer

Verse 3:

Since 16, I spit 16s

Off the ceiling of the 16th

Peeling centuries

Lit scene, scripture is pristine

Sculpt biblical panorama, Sistine

Wall isn’t a canvas of

Michelangelo chapel stokes

Grandiose laugh but I tramp in

Like Charlie Chaplin jokes

The kid has cinematic camera focus

Before Snapchat Instagram and Kodak Black moments

6. Plaza

Lyrics:

Don’t live in the past but/ trip in quicksand/

To a bit of nostalgia/

Don’t fancy fictitious tales bruh like/

Like Iggy Azalea/

Kick the kick stand a/ kid at the plaza/

Slim Jim, a bag of chips, and a Fanta/

Backpack in the front, like I would steal something/

Really not a mathematician in a janitor position/

Just Good Will hunting/

A young Max budgeting for snacks/

No real meals in my stomach/

Candy devoured, cash for a cavity mouth/

Like all of my family’s dollars went to family dollar/

And what is heartburn and heart disease for/

A Pepsi and a fresh piece of Mark’s pizza/

All of this artery squeezing’ grease/

Pass Willow park eating/

Part of me still fiendin’/

So long as I’m still breathing’/

Word to homie Tony, I’m still cheesin’/

A Transit street re-up at the pizzeria/

Hit oogie up, a new accessory for/

My Assassin’s Creed Ps Vita/

Then go peep the rap CDs/

would walk in often/

to Sift cloth for tip top thrift shop threads/

and compact Discs from Will Smith, Nas/

lots of gems,/ Found Shit caught in thoughts of Hip Hop Heads/

Volumes of nonfiction sought, picked off read/

Lot of wisdom/ shit that isn’t taught in the desk/

Embarked on a mission to not end up caught in a mess/

With a job that’s awful at best /

In debt with a lot of regrets/

Doctor said she gotta pop the meds/

It’s painful to see my mom in bed/

Under a mountain of stress/

Not quite countin’ the checks/

Getting clowned by my friends/

doubts if I’ll make it out in end/

For a better outcome I’ve got to invest/

In myself with this knowledge trend/

Not at rock bottom but I’ve counted the deck/

Yeah I’ve got problems but I’m getting out of this wreck/

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7. Creative Types

 

Picture of Train Tracks.jpg

8. Focused Stoic Poet

9. Early Stages

 

10. Meditations

Lyrics:
There is a class clash in the package of flash that isn’t suitable/ It’s crucial I trash the mask cuticle, it’s a fashion funeral/ On track to pass crucibles with smart work, attack in unison artwork wrapped in uniform armor/ Haven’t garnered attractive jewels, march in black shoes worn darker/ Beautiful, no cloak garment mimicry/ Max is loose so the clothes articles fit me/ Can’t match it fools, fabric spools of established views, sold postpartum imagery/ Won’t devote carbon energy to access news, garbage TV/ Can’t let the market of gimmicky cheap bizarre, sleazy P.T. Barnum carnivals spin me/
Easy, It isn’t an argument in particle physics, just be marvelous in this narcissistic industry/ Filled with a car engine of carcinogens in the wind, not gonna spar critics like Spartacus to spark interest/ But equally as carnivorous as Czar Nicholas/ Carvin’ through the cartilage of carcasses like cardboard or margarine warm/ Armed with a sharpened Spartan sword/ Charlatans warned, the bar arsenal storage could fill a hoard of department stores/ but tune down charm and allure then assume a harmless form/ Come through elusive with a spoonful of arsenic when the target snores/ Sorry I had to cubicle and harness harshness, it’s the Art of War/

11. The Money Fight

Bonus

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Monologues of Max: (Classic Edition)

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