The Lonely Grave of Frank Grimes

by Asa Phelps

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about

On "The Lonely Grave of Frank Grimes" producer Asa Phelps hosts a cast of characters from the Mother Brain collective. These high caliber word smiths become the voice for the progressive hip-hop beat maker.

The project was then taken to Johnny Cosmic's lab where they recorded the vocals and put on the finishing touches on the mixes.

The Lonely Grave is a soundtrack for the 9-to-5 grind. It's the everyday life of our office workers, laborers and students through the lens of a hip-hop filter.

credits

released October 12, 2011

Music composed by Asa Phelps at Far From Home Studios in Chicago, IL

Produced, Mixed and Mastered by Johnny Cosmic at Melody Sunrise in Carol Stream, IL


LINKS
--------------------------------------------------
Johnny Cosmic
johnnycosmic.bandcamp.com
fluidmindsmusic.com
melodysunrise.com

P.Tugz
melodysunrise.bandcamp.com/track/rock-it-all-night

Notebook Noise
notebooknoise.bandcamp.com
facebook.com/NotebookNoise

Saints On Deck
saintsondeck.bandcamp.com

Rusty Nails
youtube.com/rustynails85

Timmy B
snoozebutton.bandcamp.com
wigum.bandcamp.com

tags

license

all rights reserved
Track Name: The Lonely Grave of Frank Grimes (feat. P.Tugz)
father always said work harder not smarter,
yeah easier said than done.
you need to find an addict for your beautiful drug and dream has to die before a grave is dug.
what a beautiful view from the place called uncertainty,
torn between my blessing and impressing my family.
it's a game of tug-and-pull my glass was half full
until i realized being broke was only half cool.
now I'm working hard with these sore bones and calluses,
the broken door to my apartment is the drawbridge to my palace.
its the real world, the alarm clock is my nemeses but there's a need for shelter to protect us from the savages.
But that life homie, you cant bat twice homie...
shit you're in the long haul alone.
these clipped wings of my dreams fluttering is reminiscent of a dial tone, shit i wont die along.

people working harder you know that you're loosing your soul.
its a constant pace of stop and go.
i'm only here to tell you its the lonely grave of Frank Grimes.

its a damn shame that we are trained to sell,
but its white hot murder in this cubical cell.
a beautiful tale - full of mystery and intrigue,
abstract is surreal but the real is almost slipping.
fuck high on life, stuck in a 9 - 5.
I'm still here bounded by my open eyes.
and were the antithesis, pitiless and penny less picture this when you wish upon your sales pitch.
cause I'm grabbing the knife I'm sticking it in,
holding the pen writing it down,
hitting the ground hearing the sound
what once was love is misery now.
but wait...cant wait for the venom of the snake,
the fruit of love is labor but the consequence awaits.
I'm too late bit the fruit and went to college,
now I'm picking parts of passion from this rotten tree of knowledge.
free to speak and i spit when i clock out from my office,
leap of faith is legit when i climb out of the cave i crawled it.
Track Name: The Good Fight (feat. Notebook Noise, Johnny Cosmic)
(Notebook Noise)
I think it’s incredible with rhymes so forgettable
That some of these emcees think their so sweatable
Nobodies sweating you guy, that’s just swass
Your rhymes ain’t fly, dude that’s just grass
So puff puff pass that mic right out ya hands
And just being a fan should be your new plans
Cos all your rhymes is sub par for underground
And you’re not fresh, rapping over any sound
You ain’t profound, you ain’t putting in work
I had to hide you on fb, you post like a jerk
On and on and on, etc, et al.
I would pound this one with #epicfail

(Johnny Cosmic)
The good fight is not always the right one
And your fire don’t compare to this bright sun

(Notebook Noise)
Suckers lining up like it’s a damn talent show
Hoping they spit that new, that everybody know
And I guess if notebook knows anything at all
It’s how to look good falling so short of tall
I’m not flashy, nor concerned with stature
But when you holding that mic you aint looking that sure
And if that’s pure you’re surely looking shook
You got the ingredients but don’t know how to cook
You got the hunger, but you got shit for a palette
You’d prolly eat the twinkie and skip the scallop
If Notebook’s in the kitchen you’ll eat what I make you
And if we start to trip out, you’ll go where I take you

Can’t get your weight up, can’t get your weight right
This is just the pre-party, you’re thinking this is late night
You don’t want none of this Notebook rhyme management
I’m so sick, you can’t mentally challenge shit
I’ll crush physical forms and philosophical fodder
You look high and low, but wont find none odder
Debonair dope boy, raw rhyme renegade
Fronting like I’m too fresh, looking like I’m hella played
I’m rhyming hot soup, call me lentil grade
I’m rhyming so cool, call me mental shade
Notebook’s the name, an evil rhyming sort
Word murderer, killing rhymes for sport
Track Name: Dirty (feat. Saints On Deck)
(BTK)
Yea, step up in the club faded lookin for some love
See a fine little freak must be sent from up above
While Im shoving her behind she be grinding on my lap
Finger nails diggin scratching all over my lower back
Throwin dollar after dollar but the stripper gives it back
Fictional no this a fact, biting singles from her rack
She so addicted to this kid like a Newport pack
Im V.I.P., S.O.D. Armani Im Mr. Black

(Kash D)
They call me Kash Rothsteen, my style just be so mean
Bad bitch approaching, she prolly a coke fiend
I roll up some more green, get another cup of goose
Let loose baby girl I wanna see that big caboose
If I aint throwing money then you better get to stepping
No need for second guessing, player shit what I be repping
You a tall glass of water g-string no top
Shake it for me keep it coming baby girl don’t stop

(Chorus)
So come on pretty lady let me see what you can do
Dance dance baby girl, dance dance baby girl
You know how l like it girl just let me see you move
Dance dance baby girl, dance dance baby girl
We popping champagne till the whole night is through
Dance dance baby girl, dance dance baby girl
You rolling with the Saint’s so we breaking all the rules
Dance dance baby girl, dance dance baby girl

(Kash D)
Wanna take you home with me but the night has just begun
Already three bottles deep, time to get another one
Sorry hun, but them tassles on titty lookin wack
Matter fact, turn ya ass around and let me see it clap

(BTK)
Fall back, it’s a wrap, tryna get a lapdance
She tryna take me to that private room and lick up on my pants
Enhance the visual for a little more cheddar
I take a seat she up and down all over me on that leather

(Kash D)
Never ever see us leaving alone we roll deep
Four freaks in bikini’s my life is just so sweet
Ghetto bitch riding on me she grillin with gold teeth
So what I like’em dirty from skinny to obese

(BTK)
Bring’em back to the spot, latch on they wont release
Buying extravagant gifts, look at these nike sneaks
They bought and paid for by suffering chumps asking pretty please
And they coming to my spot, dancing to their knee’s

(Chorus)


Shake it for me (shake it for me)
Give it up (give it up)
Saints on deck we don’t give a fuck (what what)
Shake it for me (shake it for me)
Give it up (give it up)
Saints on deck we don’t give a fuck (yea)

(Chorus)
Track Name: Simple Machine (feat. Notebook Noise, Rusty Nails, Saints On Deck)
(Notebook Noise)
Fresh yes y’all, world wide delivery
Universal language, world wide calligraphy
Figure we go about it audibly
Make sure all the atta boys is right where they ought to be
Notebook’s been tinkering on every stinking thing
Inside the box and outside of the thinking ring
I’m trekking all terrain, my aura’s glowing strong
I’m feeling right as rain, your tooth has grown long
Certified raw shit, down goes the gauntlet
It so happens Mother Brain is drawn fit
Conditioning, you can figure that rigorous
Imagery, you can figure that meticulous
Color palette you can figure that ridiculous
Rhymes sick as this cannot stay conspicuous
Thaddeus James raps with paramount precision
Outside the frames, too vivid with the vision

(Rusty Nails)
One for the money, two for the hunnies,
an three for the boyfriend that's lookin at me funny. I'm so dope, fuck with me and you gonna get your nose broke, Rusty's in the house now you make sure all the hoes know. Locals know me and recognize my vocals and old folks give me noogies and put me in choke holds. My dolla dolla bills make your hottest water chilled and I got a lot of pills that will take the pain and kill.
So feel me, yes because I'm fresh breathed, did my hair nice smellin' good and I'm the best dressed, restless catch me on a mic that ain't been blessed yet Thaddeus do you have some time to get reckless? Yes, yes he replied but let's wait for the next sesh, I said alright I'ma follow your lead just take me to the best nest. Found it countin' all the ladies around us and I gotta be honest I can tell that they want us.

(Kash D)
Yo I don’t think they ready, this mic I’ma hold it steady
Im blowing up like confetti, Im wavy push down the levy
Yo Black go get the machete, we riding deep in the chevy
They calling me Kreuger Freddy, ya body bag be too heavy
I bury you on the track and tell ya woman holla back
A better rapper than you, you don’t believe it check the facts
Homie I just react, you feeling lucky bet a stack
I eat ya food like a snack, and I never know how to act
Mother fucker now get it right you know we came in here to fight
You better run for ya life, cuz we doin this evey night
Whether wrong or right, fist swinging I just might
Day n night like Kid Cudi, so bright we outta sight
So, do what ya like, just don’t mess with the team
That Mother Brain gang man, been running the scene
At Melody Sunrise spitting twisting the green
Yo Asa Phelps, going hard, make the beat so mean

(BTK)
Kash D pass the mic, Im ready and next to bat
Psychopathic louieville slugger my cap up to the bac
So sadistic on this track, get looney like Jack Black
Dumbfounded ass look, how am I supposed to react
These wack mc’s coming out, the balls they must lack
Cuz they wearing tighter jeans than my lady showing her ass crack
Ya’ll know me, they holla whats up Black
My pants sag with a spade on my baseball cap
Im S.O.D., Mother Brain, so crafty I attract, ya girl up on my lap
When she dipping im gripping, im swishing just like Scottie Pippen
Ripping up Churnoble weed with my boy up in the kitchen
Always looking for ladys, pole in the water you know im fishing
Fishing for my opportunity, you hoping and wishing that I demise
That I fall you the one ending up missing, cuz im so tricky so many tricks up my sleeve like a magician
Listen up im here to stay pucker up and start your kissing
Track Name: Make Our Way To The Top (feat. Notebook Noise, Johnny Cosmic, Saints On Deck)
(Notebook Noise)
New beat from Asa on my 4 track phone app
Lonely Grave shit, separate from that drone rap
A known fact, Noise is rhyming off the map
Known for nookery, Noise has got that booby trap
Unruly slap, given to slick tricksters
Frontin’ Alchemist’s who think they got the mixtures
To record scriptures, un-potent potables
They’re nothing more than unknown fixtures
Headstones, with nothing more than buried bones
Hurried clones, sealed in their own headphones
Thinking kingly but shitting is their only thrones
Loose bowels, shitting is their only groans

(Johnny Cosmic and Saints On Deck)
It's about time
We make our way to the top (3xs)
I'm gonna shine whether you like it or not

(Notebook Noise)
I wrote the first verse 9 hours ago
I know you can’t notice no difference in the flow
Off the tongue, so scrumptious how it roll
No circumference, could invade or control
My rhymes encompass and attach to your soul
Form with function, when they’re on beat patrol
Keep these streets clean, keep this scene scene
Scene kids know just what I mean. Fiend
For any new new currently classic
The new fad that’s geographically Jurassic
You’re no classic, trying to make your plans stick
Atomic wedgie rhymes, your ass know elastic

(BTK)
Now we be the ones that you know for sho
You know the party don’t start till we walking through the door
We taking rip after rip, like you’ve never seen before
Ya boy be loving my style, your girl be screaming out for more

(Kash D)
I got my shades on, smoking till the days gone
Must be out ya mind, if you thinking that we aint on
Napalm in the booth we dropping h-bombs
Asa Phelps, Notebook, Saints on the same song

(BTK)
I take the mic like Kanye West
Right out of Taylor Swift’s hand while I stare at her breasts
I throw a wink and blow a kiss cuz I could give a shit less
Cuz I be rocking on the mic until my soul is put to rest

(Kash D)
And yes we the best rap superheroes
Your rhymes stink like ya breath from a gyro
Oh, you didn’t know? We the Mother Brain wild card
Yippie ky yay, motherfucker you know we die hard
Track Name: Watched It All Fall Apart (feat. High Menace, Timmy B, Johnny Cosmic)
(High Menace)
You better wise up and open your eyes
Look around our country’s a landfill in disguise
These filthy politians feed the garbage that we buy
But they’re all in cahoots and we’re forced to pick sides
They campaign what you want to hear but most of its lies
And it’s sad to say that most of us don’t even take the time
To know that every dollar spent we’re borrowing four dimes
That’s forty cents a dollar and they act like we’re just fine
And those who believe it must be brainwashed or blind
Not worried about myself cause I’ll find a way to get by
But what about my kids kids, how will they survive
In a bankrupting country with a government that’s supersized
How do we stop this?
It starts with you and I
No need for machine guns, not even a .45
I got a secret weapon, it’s called the human mind
So educate yourself
We running out of time

(Johnny Cosmic)
Where are we going to be?
Armageddon or Utopian dreams
Maybe somewhere in between
Either way it starts with you and me

(Timmy B)
where's the individuals that stand by their principles?
on the corner with a bullhorn, where it isn't subliminal.
cursing at the monitary policy. modern money mechanics, fractional reserve banking is killing economies.
we got a lot of sleep but woke the fuck. had a minor malfunction, yo the snooze buttons stuck.
we got these lobbiest robbing us in congress with progress for dishonest politics, sloppy nonsense is killin' your consciousness.
now this one's for the potheads.
how bout full legalization, leave it up to the states, we discuss and debate and then weed of all strains can relieve all the brains and
then maybe be peace with one another. live in abundance and out of discomfort. no one motherfucker or country can plunder,
our mother earth. the sisters and brothers first. ignoring their drunken thirst. in the united states we go by another name. timmy b