Originally posted by HockeyHorror
i like Mos Def as a rapper and actor...is there anythign this guy cant do?
He's definatly a talented individual, but I could care less about his acting career.Give me some more music.Give me some more Black on Both Sides.Give me something for crying outloud.He hasn't put out an album since 1999.That's over 5 years.F*ck Mos, I could care less about him.He's a dope MC and very talented, but i'm a fan of his music and that's it.And he hasn't released sh*t because he's off on broadway.
Originally posted by HockeyHorror
D00m> i haven't asked u this but whos ur fav rapper and why?
That's a very tough Question Hockey.There's so many rappers i like.There's so many good MC's.Out of all the rappers i've heard, I would have to say one has stood out above the rest.Mr. Pinkgitch aka John Smith.He's a rapper from Winnipeg, Canada.He has everything you could ever ask for in an MC.He's has DOPE lyrics, a gift for GREAT storytelling, amazing flow, a great cadence, and most of all I can relate to him.He's just a regular guy that happens to be a rapper.It also helps when he's getting some dope ass beats from mcenroe.I have pretty much everything he's ever released and none of it is filler.I'll never get tired of listening to anything John Smith is apart of.
Here's a little thing about him on his labels website:
John Smith walks the streets unsure of his next step. It's not unusual to see him strut up to an intersection, swing his head right, then left, then turn completely around and walk back in the direction from which he came. With a backpack full of flyers for shows that already happened, and a pocket full of expired bus transfers he wanders around Winnipeg, stopping occasionally to "let some (expletive) know what time it is" , or " get his grub on". Though a concrete definition of these terms is unavailable, Smitty's often found shouting obscenities into a microphone, after fronting like he's vegetarian at Eritrean restaurants.
Smith enjoys wearing mint hued t-shirts, his frequent trips from Winnipeg to Saskatoon, watching Pipi B. Skid dance, and listening to rappers that make him feel inept. Smith hates on SUV owners, "weekend bikers", bosses, cops, rent-a-cops, orange cargo pants, those shirts with the dragons embroidered on them (come on...), super spoilers, people who insist on calling him "Joey", and breaks-record covers featuring scantily-clad women, bound and gagged.
Although John Smith is the youngest member of the Break Bread collective, he's made up for his inexperience by playing any and every show that comes his way. Starting out as mcenroe's back-ups boy, and then following Fermented Reptile around, he's also a member of Your Brother In My Backpack, a quintet of hip hop twerps, and the Henchmen, along with junglist DJ Abel. Besides his contributed rants to Fermented Reptile's "let's just call you quits" , Smith's only project that exists on anything other than dusty, old, "ultra-limited edition" tapes are Park-Like Setting's vinyl and CD releases. Which he refers to as " so dope that it's just weird to me."
Discography:
John Smith - Pinky's Laundromat (2004, mc)
Peanuts and Corn - Fall 2003 (2003, mc)
John Smith - High Arctics (2002, mc)
Hip-Hop Wieners - All Beef, No Chicken (2002, mc)
Peanuts and Corn - Summer 2002 (2002, mc)
Peanuts & Corn Factory Seconds (2001, 2 tracks mc)
Peanuts & Corn - Spring 2001 (2001, 4 tracks mc)
John Smith's Blunderbus (or, In Transit) (2001, mc)
Park-Like Setting - School Day 2, Garbage Day 4 (2000, mc)
Park-Like Setting / fermented reptile - split 12" (2000, mc)
Other tracks and whatnot:
mcenroe - the convenience ep (2002, 1 track mc)
Gruf - Druidry (2001, 1 tracks mc)
Pip Skid - Friends4Ever (2001, guest mc (1 song))
fermented reptile - let's just call you quits (1999, guest mc (2 songs))
Soso - Sour Suite EP (guest mc (1 song))
Here's his sophmore album that should be dropping soon.It's a sure fire classic just like his first album was.
John Smith - Pinky's Laundromat
Release date: May 2004
Cat. No: P&C029
Format: CD and 2xLP
Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada’s John Smith has become one of Canada’s most respected emcee’s in a few short years. Since his teamup with mcenroe for 2000’s Park-Like Setting project, his prolific output has earned him a fanbase across all of hip-hop’s fractured sub-genres.
He returns to solo form with Pinky’s Laundromat, another concept album. He plays Smitty, tending shop at a laundromat in the city’s low rent area. Welcome to the world of small time crooks, greasy diners, minimum wage jobs and barstool tales with half truths. Pinky’s Laundromat features gritty realism and compelling storytelling, complete with plot twists and big payoffs in the third act.
John Smith continues to polish his delivery, and has matured into a lethal combination of delivery, lyrics, flow, and songwriting. Pinky’s Laundromat shows all of this and more, over a dark yet banging soundscape built by mcenroe. Each of the 13 tracks has its own musical flavor to fit the mood and style of Smiths storytelling, and mcenroe lets the beat ride. The result is a head trip that sounds great in the jeep!
Pinky’s Laundromat was recorded at mcenroe’s studio in Vancouver, BC in August of 2003. It was mixed and mastered by mcenroe in march of 2004.
- Bonus “P&C Cribs - John Smith” featurette included on CD-ROM of this release in Quicktime format.
- Produced entirely by mcenroe, one of the most highly respected producers in underground hip-hop today.
Track Listing:
1. Pinky’s Laundromat
2. Taxicab Confessions
3. Kinship of the Down and Out
4. Iron Chef
5. A Black Knife
6. Screwin’ The Pooch
7. Bumpin’ Uglies
8. Move So Slow
9. Baypak
10. Bible Belt Babylon
11. Weed Sells But Who’s Buying?
12. Dana Barrett
13. One Too Many for the None Too Friendly
Here are some lyrics from one of my favorite rappers that just missed my top 10.His name is Buck 65.
i wander the fields and listen for the sound of drums,
the colder the ground becomes,
the closer i get to home.
the planet's not fit to roam,
what, with all the chaos, but when i saw the savages,
i played the law of averages.
and when the river splits in half,
i start to lose my wits and laugh
and cry at the same time, there's nothing i can do about it.
even though i wouldn't doubt it
if the winds began to blow,
and carry the sounds of my voice to the land below.
so i put my hands around my mouth and holler to the sunken city,
that wallows in the filth of its own drunken pity.
and wait to see a signal but a signal's never seen.
eventually, fatigue builds inside me exponentially.
and so i sleep, and dream that i am able to fly,
they won't expect a man with wings.
later i awake in agony and learned
that while i was sleeping, the city had burned.
shrugging my shoulders, i pause and gather thought.
think twice about staying put and then decide i'd rather not.
so i press on in my agnostic pilgrimmage,
knowing that i can swim deeper than the grim reaper.
ready for whatever sea creatures may abound,
when the water swallows me and not the other way around.
survival song ain't through the mechanical district,
starvation leads to being cannibalistic.
i've had to rely on cons, and silence, and on talking quick.
defending myself with nothing but my walking stick.
i've never had friends and no parental guidance,
i'm wild at heart and weird on top.
i'm feared nonstop,
even though my rage is worn out.
my life's a book with several pages torn out.
i just climb trees and look for rhythm everywhere.
Great storytelling from Buck as usual.
Here's lyrics to a song called "Savior" by the crew anticon.Not the whole crew, just 3 on this particular song (Slug, Eyedea, and Sole).
slug:
sometimes i wonder, if you'll ever shut the hell up,
but you don't quit, and you just don't stop.
sometimes i want to hop in the five and ride circles around my city a couple times
and pity my troubled life.
sometimes i wake up like, "**** the world!"
and after i **** my girl,
i wanna curl up in the corner of my basement,
waiting for civilization to fold.
the pressure, to pay that toll, along it takes control.
"and while you be a better dad, i can be better in bed.
i could be a better man, i could be better off dead.
i could be a better slut, boyfriend, or employee,
but i better fix my head before i let that shit destroy me."
yeah, you know me, that cat with no game, no gear,
and in love as many times as i've been alive in years.
it ain't my fears that frighten me, it's how i cope and construct,
and how i act as if i don't give a ****.
but damn, if i stop and count the amount of ****s i've handed out,
all in the name of trying to find what it's about,
i'd probably drown, gasp, cough, and gurgle,
found dead, stiff position as if i'm about to jump that hurdle.
"so while you lose your head, i'm losing a war.
you're living big comfortable, while i'm chewing the cord."
and sometimes i reflect, sit, and wish that i was ignorant,
unaware of the poison, so i could enjoy sippin' it.
the only thing on my mind is everything, so i blame my brain for trying to hold me down.
and when they finally wash it and hang it out to dry,
make sure they know how to smoke...make sure they know my sound.
eyedea:
dear primate relatives, extra-terrestrial intelligence,
i've gathered delicate information stating my spaceship's developed a virus.
and i was flown out of orbit passed the moon,
and i crashed here november 9th, 1981, monday afternoon.
i've adapted to this twisted way of living,
but i always knew i wasn't from this planet 'cause i'm so damn different.
i've kicked it to kids that would've but couldn't, kids that could've but wouldn't.
some took it, misunderstood it, stood under it, and overlooked it.
love hate, straight crooked, bad good, should shouldn't,
plastic, metal, or wooden. it's all a powdered-water based pudding.
yo, this is a cry for help, and i don't give a ****.
i've joined every alien cult on earth, waiting for ya'll to pick me up.
i've sipped the cup of reality, now my brain is dying.
i try and explain i'm not human, now my room is an insane asylum.
they blame the violence on children and try to forget they raised them.
jerry springer and banned from tv is what they get paid from.
man i hate them homosapiens, they're a little too complex.
survival instincts apply for the biggest cock contest.
man please, come and get me, this shit's sickening. man i can't stand it,
i want to break the ozone and go home to my own planet.
it's panic, i'm frantic, god damnit, i've damaged my sanity's bandage,
ever since i've landed, i've been abandoned and planned to run.
i ran and managed to reach peace for a day or two,
but it's probably government computer chips that make me think the way i do.
hey, i knew my origin was beyond this galaxy, even as a baby.
i asked 'em once, was told to call parents and they said i was crazy.
i've been beat half to death, by those designated to serve and protect.
i pay 'em taxes for my checks, so they can break my neck.
now a take a second, think what i did to deserve this.
i'm waiting for the mothership spacecraft to take me away from this purposeless earth shit, it's worthless.
i'm like a polar bear living in the equator or an ice cube in the refrigerator.
i'm out of place and outerspace is where i need to get ya'll.
so when you come down, just remember, i'm leaving with ya'll.
sincerely, yours truly, eyedea.
chorus:
so if you've got a savior, please won't you introduce.
'cause you mother****as' behavior has got me broken loose.
sole:
oh, you don't like sand? i heard it tastes like dirt.
i do dirt, my girlfriend used to be a rock.
hollar favorite word, and it woulda been stopped, if she could talk.
so i did, love-making planned inside a molehill.
ever read the diary of the ego without a face? (no).
music without a place? meal without a plate?
metal plate in skull, which means i'll never get a chance to fly.
i wasn't coordinated enough to get college grants from playing sports, yeah.
but i stole your girl, she was lucky enough to get things over eyes,
moon-talkin' playa-hatin', on a class based on shoplifting,
one-man solar system.
i'm the sun, the earth, supernova, novacaine.
no preservative, don't know exactly what life means.
"but know for damn well that she ain't talkin' to me."
but i know everything i stand, somehow it always ends in negativity.
i can smoke all your imbecilic anthems and idle idealogies
for idiots who idolize ideals but never truly comprehend,
and fail experience experiments.
they say take risks when you can.
i feel my pockets get small trying to reminisce on saddest moments.
pessimism appeal for solar strikes, they're more logical.
"never know no equals 'til my style becomes more vital."
i forgot how to sleep, total memory retired,
which means that it becomes sick until the day that i'm fired.
a wise man told me, "be a snake and let all people believe that you're a sheep,
because all you have is your pride," so in the end, you'll never sell me cheap.
One of my favorite songs by Sage Francis called "Majority Rules".
chorus:
i’mma take you back, take take you back.
i’m a take you back, take take you back (way back!).
see, because it’s twisted,
in the future, scientists will prove that we never even existed.
i got lectured once while eating breakfast for lunch,
said dad to me, "reality ain't nothing but a collective hunch.
whatever you want the truth to be, simply fool the masses.
attack them mentally with tools of power like the masters.
get them in elementary school and college classes.
eventually you’ll overrule their cowardly asses.
don’t worry about society, they’re all horrible bastards."
with this knowledge, i blast kids and stay dark like howard’s glasses.
i’m "stern," plus i rule with an iron fist,
with no concern, it’s so cruel, where did i learn this?
it’s in my gene pool. for permanent bliss,
it seems cool, only if you suffer from eternal ignorance.
internal innocence rejects external filth, hurdle the guilt
my ancestors left, dress with a traditional kilt.
curdled milk that’s under suspicion will get spilt,
there ain’t no use crying, who’s lying about the empire i built?
another self proclaimed historian, with einstein as his passenger,
and a flux capacitor in his delorian.
he rewrote my past, taught me sin.
when we spoke at last, he caught me in the chin.
there was no need to ask, i know he fought me to win.
my broken task is born again, let a new war begin.
i think he saw me grin, played my ass like a sucka’.
turned that brunch between me and my father into our last supper.
chorus:
he’ll take us back, take take us back.
he’ll take us back, take take us back (way back!).
see, because it’s twisted,
in the future, scientists will prove that we never even existed.
so now i’m orphaned into this world of a rewritten past,
where they force my girl to cook and clean and force me to sit in class.
the teacher laughs as he preaches math, beats me with a staff
because the text we read expects us to bleed each paragraph.
i speed through the chapter fast. my prospectful wife
hangs her pride at half mast, force fed domestic life.
it’s giving her a fat ass, she can’t eat no more.
"we’ll see who laughs last," is what she speaks so sure as she sweeps the floor.
her bare feet are sore. i’d massage her toes,
but she’s way too busy doing dirty laundry and washing my clothes.
this bastard ass took us back to the dark to the dark ages,
my heart races, he’s got 1 out of 3 blacks locked in cages.
sage is heading for the mic, but they blocked the stages,
dopes took my notebook and said "don’t look!," as they blotched the pages.
ignoramuses, must have "idiot dildos" stuck up in their anuses,
dominatrixes explain how pleasurable of a pain this is.
i ain’t with this game of his, i’m looking for a loop hole.
just because you look the part, don’t mean you can play, ask manute bol.
my absolute role is to save whatever is left of me,
the last of my true soul, so i dress up like the referee,
to get the coach on every bench pissed. they approach me with a clenched fist,
so i throw up their past lives and say, "catch this."
they get the drift, but fans rush the court.
propaganda programs, they hold in their hands, brain washed and flushed their thought.
now it’s a blood sport. my girl ain’t with this strange land,
she was fronting like a cheerleader as she figured out the game plan.
made peeks at play sheets, memorized them like the rain man.
conducted her own brain scan, then reversed the chain of command.
"she learned the formulas?" the story is unraveling.
she seduced einstein by dressing up like marilyn, monroe,
now she’s got a manson look in her eyes,
and a grin that’s stretching so wide, damn, son, i’m petrified!
chorus:
she’ll take us back, take take us back.
she’ll take us back, take take us back (way back!)
see, because it’s twisted,
in the future scientists will prove that we never even existed.
>Sage Francis "Narcissist"<
chorus:
i don't look at myself in the mirror because i'm a narcissist,
i simply like to watch myself exist.
now i'm in a fog and mist,
now my reflection is anonymous.
ponder this...
i've seen a reflection of my soul in the store window.
caught in limbo 'cause i was dressed all in timbo's.
having vivid fantasies of playing polo with ralph lauren on a tommy hill,
and my paper-thin spirit was still grieving from the versace kill
in florida. opened the door to the store and i walked through the corridor,
to see they had a blow out sale on nautica.
i've always been a lord of the button down flies,
and being they were half-priced, i just passed 'em on by, looking for levis.
but guess, what? all my favorite clothing lines and hip designs,
were being liquidized and it made me sick to my eyes.
i don't understand, when i had no ends, the price was quick to rise.
i'd buy a pair of "trends" even if they didn't fit my size.
purchase a surplus of "fads" from merchants whose ads
made these cheap ass fabrics that were so worthless and sad
just look priceless. they used unethical devices
to attack my sense of self-worth during my prepubescent crisis.
it fed into my insecurities, so instead of being righteous,
i want everyone to see me like this. "son, it's all about who looks the nicest."
ice is falling off my rolie onto my body, "shoot!
i hope to hell it doesn't melt and ruin my armani suit."
while i'm sweatin' this, some kid who doesn't got any loot
is buying my necklace along with my same exact khakis and army boots.
"what?! this is blasphemous!"
since adidas tried changing its logo, there ain't been nothing as wack as this.
it's probably a stunt being pulled by animal rights activists,
because of all that third world country garbage, but i'm a pacifist.
so while these monkeys sweat over my name brands that exchange hands
from enslaved lands, i wonder if i'm the same man
without reward for what i bought but can't still afford.
this is the type of self-realization that might have killed the lord.
i didn't mind working for free as a walking billboard,
but now i want my money back, as the ice spilled and poured
onto the floor. i did see a distorted reflection of my nike hat,
now i don't know how others might react.
for me it was an unsightly act that helped me get my psyche back.
i stood 5 feet back, afraid that it might strike me like "shaclack clack!"
you think i'm kidding? think it's no big thing?
what i seen made my heart hurt, stomach turn, throat burn, teeth cringe, spine tingle, and ribs sting.
i noticed that the swoosh symbol was nothing but a whip in mid-swing.
i like these two verses.
-Pharoahe Monch-
Yo
Truth had me up against the ropes and semi-concious without no boxing skills
Fear of it makes hair on my neck grow like minoxodil
Watchin the clock is ill when, faced wit the truth
Parallels observing, amateur video tapes of
Twenty-one top notch NYPD cops get ill
Fill they minds not to kill still son, never revealed
True feelings, we speakin on the truth right now in itself is healing
See The Creator, created existence and balance
At right angles, unless it was conceived and stated
So whoever shall stray away from right lives wrong
The deliverance of the word false opposite of truth off course
Sure as my slave name sending
Troy Donald Jamerson paves the path, enabling truth
To stay stable and cling to EARTH!
Sorta similar to the way static electricity sting see
Truth brings light, light refracts off the mirror
Visions of yourself and error could never clearer
The truth is that you ugly, not on the outside
But in the inside on the outside you frontin you lovely
The discovery of these things and all are well-hidden
But when you in denial of self it is forbidden, that's the truth
-Common Sense-
Let the truth be told from young souls that become old
From days spent in the jungle, where must one go
To find it, time is real, we can't rewind it
Out of everybody I met, who told the truth?
Time did We find kids speakin cuz it's naturally in us
But the false prophets by tellin us we born sinners
Venders of hate, got me battlin my own mind state
At a divine rate, I ain't in this just to rhyme great
See the truth in the thighs of a stripper, the eyes of my nigga
If it's only one, then why should it differ
So constantly I seek it
Wonderin why I gotta drink a six pack to speak it
Took a picture of the truth and tried to develop it
Had proof, it was only recognized by the intelligent
Took the negative and positive, cuz niggas got to live
Said I got to get more than I'm given
Cause truth'll never be heard in religion
After searchin the world, on the inside what was hidden
It was the truth