Seeing Things

by brokeMC

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about

Dozer made the beats. brokeMC made the words. Sumkid Majeure and Breez Evahflowin jmped in for verses. Domer sung a hook. MissMarieNYC sang some hooks. Scratches by Bisc1.

credits

released April 28, 2008

Dozer: dozeanalog@yahoo.com
Miss Marie: www.myspace.com/marienyc

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about

brokeMC Brooklyn, New York

brokeMC has been an innovator of the Indie NYC rap scene for ten years. Releasing three solo albums, collaborating on three albums with the famous MINDSpray Crew, and countless other cameos and contributions, he is a prolific creative force and active supporter of the NYC music community.

brokeMC believes in revolutions of heart and mind, expansion of soul and spirit, and evolution of perception.
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Track Name: Dust in my Attic
I got too much dust in my attic.
Addicted to the magic, the heroes in the static,
Too many MCs never get up off the mattress,
so I never lie down till I've blown out the canon.
Track Name: Every Damn Day People
I don't think anybody really knows what it's all about, there's no
plot synopsis, summary or rundown,
We're just a bunch of tongue in cheek,
bumblebee drones
living as humble beings til the queen's on the phone, then it's talk a lotta nada tryna polish up yer shine.
And bait the hook proper so she swallows all your lines,
a sugar momma's grand for all your criminal designs,
just make sure to keep her eyes off all your dimes on the side.
and have the time of your life,
enjoy the bumps and the grind,
let the smoke fill your lungs
and slowly open your eyes
there's an ocean of lies tryna swallow and choke ya
and a bunch of dopes tryna twist yer gizzard in their ropes,
cause they've given up their hope, so
they're grabbin at yours
as if it had the answer they were clamoring for
and it's harder than ever just to remember how to feel
but if we put our heads together maybe we can find what's real.
Track Name: Ghost Town
Right here in the middle of Nowhere I feel better than I've ever felt. Right here in the middle of Nowhere I found a deeper understanding of Self.

Nothing but Nothing stretches in all directions. I find myself as the intersection, the beginning and ending, both sides of the fence; where time is absent and thoughts are immense.

Where one road cuts through the fat of the land to the bone of the rock, the flesh of the sand. It's harsh and it's beautiful. It gives and takes back, and you can tell it's God's Country because everyone's mad.

The day is hot passion and the night is cold sin, and blood wells up from every hole you dig, and there's more gold in the hills than you could ever hope to find, and your soul exists just to wrestle with the sky.

In this grand expanse, every star speaks of hope, and every cloud is a dream that a mountain let go.
Be sure to ask yourself after we meet on the road, were you talking to me or my ghost?

Slow down. This is my Ghost Town. You've got to go now. Welcome Home Now. Slow Down. This is my Ghost Town. You've got to know how I lost control.

This is my home. So nice of you to pass through my gas station. Let me use it as a classroom. Fast paced sands blast the hourglass groove in this sour patch of earth that the map never knew.

There's crazy energy here like Katmandu, and it's nice to have a couple souls to yap to a babble about the stash of artifacts I've gathered, and I'd love to capture some of your laughter.

See, out here there ain't no Alize or Mobsters so we dance to rhythm of rattlesnake maracas. There's lakes to ponder the depth of the water, the voice of your Mother, the breath of your Father.

The next step is harder: The better part of forever is sharper than anything you could comprehend. it's close to torture. Don't say I didn't warn you. I'm just another ghost haunting this hotel California.
Track Name: Follow That
she's swingin thor's hammer, maybe sick of your manners
and I'm tryna make a point as if the score matters
slam the door shatters, swingin like some bored batters
flyin out at night just to watch the whores scatter

sure I tend to get stuck in the rafters
drifitin with my thoughts, caught up in disasters
whirlpools and slander, hurricane slam dancers
blur my brain faster disturbin gray matters

i play the same casper I played since day one
a plaster cast bastard tryna stay out of the sun
cool as alabaster, a pale faced imitation
stackin up my chips gettin cracks in my foundation

found salvation in an hourglass maiden
took a sip and couldnt quit, i loved the way she tasted
couldn't flip the wastin witness distintegration
cryptic communications got me twisted up and faded


We build it up just to break it down
thinkin bout thinkin bout bout gettin around
as soon as we get up we thinkin bout gettin out

when she laughs she shakes the ground
so catch me sittin silent tryna embrace the sound
I'm wakin now, breakin down every detail i found
decypherin heiroglyphics, a pyro and a mystic

missile silos stand mimic the war of roses and cynics
and all's fair I guess, stock up the matches and gimics
packaged each shipment to distract all the minions
and it looks great from a distance but there's cracks in the finish

i've mastered the method of patchin up imperfections
sweepin dust under the carpet, closet full of resurrections
a heart beneath the floorboards, brain in the freezer section
so i can ignore all the problems for my own greedy protection

but the resulting situation's made of cheap imitations
never gettin deep enough to complete the equation
all the numbers i get simply add up to frustration
cause i know if I call you i risk overstimulation

this game of cat and mouse got me savage with doubt
got so much i wanna say that may never get let out
and half of me thinks I should just break down and speak
but time's usually a better cure for this sort of disease