Monologues of Max: Vol. 1 (11 track Sampler)

 

1. Monologues of Max 

Chuki Beat Production

Lyrics:

Welcome to the 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/ Fridayy, fireball in your glass/ Go yak from a bottle of 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 nucleur holocaust the pad/ Dust your boots off on the matt/

Welcome to the monolgues of max/ Confused, when you’ve lost the map/ Follow on my path/ The Robert Frost of Rap/ Through all 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/ Then the twist kicks in,..spit the sick shit/ Get addicted addicted trembling/ Slit wrists, slip execedrins and schizophrenic medicine/ Flip it like a slim Eminen/ Then spit heavens/ Blessed, a rift in the heavens../ Metaphysical transcendence/ Mesiah gifted presence like christ delivered the message/ God damn! Rhetoic devised like Kendrick/ Isn’t a sect of religious text/ Better with time/

Chrous: Muhammad Ali

Its Einstein sippin’ fine wine thinkin’ about divine intervention/ I chime in like a reverend/ Acquire a choir 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 cynged/ In spite of this light nitrogen ignition/ Quick to strike like lightning, ionized collision/ 

Scientific fire spittin’/ Mayan infinite, 3rd eye vision heiroglyphics/ Hire a cryptic phsyic mystic to decipher my tight knitted type of english/ Life transitions.. depicted in enscriptions/ 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 swingin’ scorchin’ like the immortal scorpion/ I use sorcery to fill pews/ like your priest clickin’ 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/

Its irrefutable, ignorance is a horrible euphoria/ Went from snoozing and snoring ta/ A pupil of the goriest warriors/ Penmenship descendant of the crypt/ I dig deep.. like six feet/ Premeditated Blitzkrieg/ of Tibetan caligrahpy 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 soliloquoys/ Sick, the ability is healing me/ Enter the Illiad and kill Achiles/ Making a killing in my sleep/ like the prescription pill industry/ Quill Z’s and pencil in my dreams/

Chorus: Bobby Fischer Interview

Since sixteen I spit sixteens/ Dripped ink, off the ceiling of the 16th/ Peeling centuries, lit scene/ Scripture is pristine/ Sculpt biblcal panorama.. Sistine!/ Wall isn’t a canvas uh Michelangelo chapel strokes/ Grandious laugh but I tramp in like Charlie Chaplin jokes/ The kid has had cinematic camera focus/ Before snapchat, instagram and Kodak Black moments/ 

 

Slow Flow Edition

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Lyrics: Fire spittin’, revisit discs, CDs/ Listen to Hieroglyphics and Killa Bees/ Rhymes hit the cryptic enigma mystery/ Penmanship descendant of the Krypt, I dig deep/ Premeditated Blitzkrieg of Tibetan Caligraphy/ 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 soliloquys/ Sick, the ability is healing me/ Enter the Illiad and kill Achilles/ Since 16 I spit 16s, dripped ink 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 strokes/ Grandiose laugh but I tramp in like Charlie Chaplin jokes/ The kid has cinematic camera focus/ Before Snapchat Instagram and Kodak Black moments/ Master the flow to capture then trash your magnum opus/ Imagine a mag of notebooks/ I’ve stacked ammo, racked chapters/ Travel like a Smack rap battle backpacker/

Package manufactured by Mattel Hasbro, factory standard/ Amateur rappers attach words, I scrabble these bastards/ The Max caliber, classic as I catch a cadaver/ The stratagem commander/ Attack campaigns at a cancerous rate/ Sacrificial lambs act as combatants hate/ Like Athens did Alexander The Great/ A fraction savage like an adamant math wiz/ with an accurate abacus, I subtract the masses/ Immaculate rhapsodies but a masterpiece is a haphazard trash heap/ Scratching the casket, until after the track is diseased/ Wrapped in sheets by a catholic priest/ But I am a beast/ Why lie with Lazarus, I’m back in three/ Some type of Pheanoix dragon MC/ Rhymes rise up from the ashes/ Its like what I write is high on canibus/

And fuck keeping up with the Joneses/ Speakerphone spit leaving xenophobic nematodes leaking hemoglobin/ and preconcieved notion out of a hematoma/ Easily flow ya, sit back a secular snob/ like “What the heck is regular job”?/ WordPress had to set up the blog/ The pentagon defending a headlock as demogouges wrestle with god/ Even nerds perplexed at the lexicon/ Black Thought on Flex/ Rebirth of the pen savant/ like the next proverbial renaissance…

2. Kicked Out

Lyrics:

More than just rhymes in my notebook/ Provoked by an unfortunate ride/ Upon the time that I wrote this/ Life is going good but my mom got diagnosed with some type of spinal stenosis/ and I’m with the bros, driving her clothes to the hospital/ On the road convos but I’m alone with my thoughts though/ Pondering like “maybe the diet of Tops Raeman, smokes, hot sauce and popsicles caught up ya know”/ Compounded by Dr. Phil talks shows/ Not a diss to my mom but still/ Being positive must be an obstacle/ When you’ve got to live prescriptions poppin’ pills/ Pissed off fit, then get kicked out/ Grab all my shit, live with my pops now/

Bit of a falling out but best wishes moving on/ Forgive you through the song/ I’ve got to grow, still a lot to know/ Not philosophical, just stuff I wasn’t taught so/ I’ve got to go/ Not a doctor’s note/ On my own/ Still my mom though/ Said the worst at me, cursed at me/ Oh well, hopefully these surgeries go well/ Just words to me, don’t dwell/ 50 years old in a nursing home with a walker/ Just sold for low, one of the first decent offers/ The home on Pine Street were I was brought up/ Not known as a bursting at the seams talker/ but maybe I should reach for the phone and call her/ She did raise me through a lot of years of trauma/ You’d think these are pages from Tupac’s Dear Momma/

So throw up ya hands if you had to grow up fast/ Fuck it, let go of the past/ Not stuck in a rut, hold the moment/ No rush but I’m hustlin’, become my own man/ Gave up drugs as a youngen/ Devoted to runnin’ my whole plan/ Focus and hope from the jump/ Buzzin’ even with no fans/ Sober but I’m always turning up/ Who gives a fuck if work is tough/ I’m always punching in/ But son doesn’t sip from the punch/ Don’t get drunk like my dad/ The kid isn’t throwing jabs/ Just not trying to become my old man/ But not gonna succumb to the traps/ Rather have fun stacking bundles of cash/ Seems like I have one chance/ On the come up, to the max/ Number 1 with raps/

 

3. Plaza

 Lyrics:

Don’t live in the past but trip in quicksand ta a bit of Nostalgia/ Don’t fancy fictious tales bruh like Iggy Azeala/ Kick the kickstand, 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 GoodWill Hunting/ A young Max, budgeting for snacks/ No real meals in my stomach/ Candy devoured, cash for a cavity mouth/ Like all my families’ 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 squeezin’ 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’/

South Transit street re up at the pizzeria/ Hit Oogie up/ A new accessory for my Assasin’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 the thoughts of Hip-Hop heads/ Volumes of non-fiction sought, picked off, read/ Lots of wisdom/ shit that isn’t taught in a desk/ Embarked on a mission to not end up caught in a mess/ with a job thats awful at best/ In debt with a lot of regrets/ Doctor said she gotta pop the meds/ Its painful to see my mom in bed/ under a mountain of stress, not quite countin’ the checks/ Gettin’ clowned by my friends/ Doubts if I’ll make it out in the end/ For a better outcome I’ve got to invest in myself with this knowledge trend/ Not at rock bottom but I’ve coutned the deck/ Yeah I’ve got problems but I’m getting out of this wreck/

 

4. AI intro 

Lyrics

Citizen Four, dissident criminal or heroic?/ Ambivilence towards Snowdens/ Encrypted internet reports/ Then whistle blowin’ pissed those in political control with exposed info/ Provoked civil mistrust/ Like “Does the government listen to us”?/ Woken up only after the digital comatose hit us/ Been rope-a-doped by binary code pixels/ Addicted with no drugs/ No one predicted this distant dystopia/ From the initial mobile phone pick up/ The motorolla brick and thick Nokias/ No shit emojis loading/ No screen lit dopamine rush/ No bliss and opium from/ opening a notification from a fake friend/

Dystopia Cover (2)

5. AI


Lyrics

Intro: Elon Musk & Stephen Hawking on AI

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 profit 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/ Provocative views, glued to the television/ Computer development after computer development/ As Tech grew to superintelligence/ Enter the future real realm humans irrelevant/ A blink, a bed of fossils buried deep/ Think this isn’t Nick Bostrom philosophy parody/ Isn’t Black Mirror Sam Harris heresy/ Last era, brink of singularity/ Max your fuckin’ scaring 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 it asked for his brain to connect into memory bank/ To see which friends he could play, Why?/ The genesis of sentient AI/ Hacked, simulated interfaces/ Living in the Matrix/ 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 agent smiths 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 playing with new translucent robosapien/ But as I sit flipping the pages of Homo Deus/ A futurist transhuman invasion/ Has more truth than Kim Jong Un nuking 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/ Value systems and altruism/ switched to algorithms/ Fail to get rid of malnutrition/ Thoughts automated/ Gods replacement/ cloud of information/ Look what Jobs 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 the kingpins/ sad and Cataclysmic/ Is that the path were beginning?/

6. PreMptive

Been the illist since/ filaments of Silica quartz formed, fill in the shore/ Been the realest since a clipped umbilical cord/ Williamsvile, Millard Fillmore, built with a villainous core/ Spilled on the floor, in the building/ Children galore, building rapport/ Getting informed/ Women report Bill Clinton is court/ Still abort political opinions of sort/ Can’t be ill equiped, sent to fulfill a dilligent chore/ A syllabus of syllables forged/ Quill tip a swarm/ Kill this norm/ Fill in the morge/ Pillage and scorge/ Your feeling the force of Atilla’s sword/ This is a militant war/ Conserve then attack.. your nervous system/

Merciless spittin’, clip ya cervical with it/ Get served, the impervious wordsmith its Max/ Your trippin’ blurred vision/ In the circle of my verbiage trapped/ If the wormwholes 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 a surgical duralast implant in/

The purpose mechanics of my neurosynaptic turbo rap chip/ No journalist facts, its the ressurgence of Max/ Not squirtin’ a gat in a burgler mask/ but still murder the track/ I have to work to deserve lasting reserves/ Then grapple with mergers of cash/ Because the world is a wrastlin’ tournament/ If your not bracketing first your last/ 

First to the matt/ Savage as Rambo stabbin’ Commando/ Stackin’ ammo/ At ya throat like a Smack Rap Battle/ Assasin rackin’ chapters/ Travelin’ backpacker/ Classic as I catch a cadaver/ Catacombs and caskets for vassal states/ Commandin’ grab the throne/ Cast attack campains 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 assualt the terraine of the song/ Takin’ the skull, breakin’ the jaw/ Erasin’ the pulse then pray to god/ Reigning like Ghengis Khan/

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7. AcaDeMia

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/

 A factory plant, sleeping us/ 

Until we lack the ingredientes/

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 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/

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/

 

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8. Creative Types

Lyrics:

This for my creative types (2X) up late at night/ This for my creative types (2x) up late at night/ This is for my creative types/ Gave up praying to christ/ We got page sand pages to write/ This is for my creative types trying to make it in life/ Gave up trying to paint in the lines/ Rearrange the way this game is designed/ This is for my creative types up late at night/ This is for my creative types/ Escape the 9-5 and get the 8-9/

This is for my creative types, what I say in the mic/ A cadence to raise new heights/ The creative types ready to pay the price/ In the paint, lace up right/ Step in new Js, ready to take flight/ This for my creative types who hate and despise the basic state of mind/ Ingrained in an education that caters the blind/ Maybe I’m a hater up late at night/ But remember, we got pages and pages to write/ The creative types brain is fried with great advice/ Steak, eggs, and bacon diet/ I stay in my prime and embrace the grind/ Just a creative type up late at night filleting the rhyme/

This is for my creative types (2X) up late at night (2X)/ Face in books must have struck a nerve/ Hood up word, just another nerd or a young Zuckerberg?/ Stuck servin’ customers, I stand here/ A cavalier cashier/ Spaced out, how did I crash here/ People ask Max “Where you been at the past year?”/ As I scratch the scrapped receipt with rap lyrics/ Observant, introverted wordsmith/ Not risk adverse/ Got sick and returned with a purpose/ Not kidding, cognitive as I jot writtens/ Until the picture is perfect/ This is for my creative types, creative types/

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9. Focused Stoic Poet

Lyrics: 

Notice you know its the potent ode Odin/ So cogent, focused stoic poet/ Not a mogul at a moment/ A dope kid, profit from products sold until my pockets are swole/ Copius notes stocked up from the project Hova Decoded/

God connect, throw my quotes in stone/ Then the rock is blessed/ As the flow splits oceans, Holy Moses/ I roll corrosive/ a shoulder lift and boulders get eroded over this/ I pop chromium but gold is the top motive/ Gold is the top motive/ The goal is to hop opponents/ And pose for shots at the podium/ At my toes is Napoleon/ Foes sit soaked and salted in sodium/ Rose heroic, hoes no romeo/ Almost no emotion/ I go in cold as a frozen soviet/ controlled by a culture of socialists/ Ferocious as a doberman/ Go get motrin and Joe Rogan for the slow motion/ as I choke the skull of vocalist/ The locomotive that provokes commotion/ Nuts, tellin’ homos and homophobes to go suck a scrotum/ Hold the totem pole then cut it open/ Then I’m going ghost like the folks from Roanoke/

10. Meditations

Lyrics

There is a class clash in the package of flash that isn’t suitable/ Its crucial I trash the mask cuticle/ Its a fashion funeral/ On track to pass crucibles with smart work/ Attack in unison/ Art work 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 postpartem imagery/ Won’t devote carbon ernergy to access news/ Garbage TV/ Can’t let the market of a gimmicky, cheap bizarre P.T. Barnum carnival spin me/ Easy it isn’t an argument in particle physics/ Just be marvelous in this narcicistic 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 Nicholaus/ 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 department store/ But tune down charm and allure/ and assume a harmless form/ come through elusive with a spoonful of arsenic when the target snores/ sorry, I had to cubicle and harness harshness/ Its the art of war/

11. The Money Fight

 

Fast like Mahatma Gandhi/ No fast like Cassius, I mean.. Muhammad Ali/ The Champ dancing around these zombies/ The crowd screams, this man is wobbly/ Knock out and that’s all she/ Yeah Max is obviously the greatest by definition/ Rather cocky as I make entrance/ Got GSP, no bobbin and weavin’/ Crazed eccentric/ walk to the octagon tweakin’/ to Mobb Deep like Jason Mayhem did it/ Top fight, the main event/ I drop guys, aim to finish/ Put on size like Popeye ate a plate of spinach/ Then hop five weight divisions/ Monopolize then say wait a minute/ Gotta get a compromised gate percentage/ Get the dollar sign tailor fitted/ Call it a confident sweater/ Yeah it’s provocative measures/ To pop at a legend/ with No boxing record/ but my fill my pockets with cheddar/ like Conor Mcgregor/ Stocked options like Paulie Malignaggi setup/ But if I do get ahead and get a big head, gotta kick it like Holly did Ronda Rousey/ as non-hodgkins is boxing Rocky/ The last of a dying breed, I’m Adonis Creed/ 

 

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