To The Max: Official Rap Sampler

Dystopia Cover (2)

1. SuperIntell


Lyrics
Intro: Elon Musk and 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 polishin’/ 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, watchin’ the news/ No stoppin’ 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 Vol. 1

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 eatin’/

Part of me still fiendin’/

So long as I’m still breathin’/

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 gettin’ out of this wreck/

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7. Creative Types

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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: Slow Flow (Classic Edition)

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