No Humans Allowed
by Louis Mackey & Thirtyseven
-
Digital Album
Immediate download of 8-track album in your choice of high-quality MP3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.Buy Now $3 USD or more
1. |
Intro
03:06
|
|||
|
| ||||
2. |
Not of This Earth
02:21
|
|||
|
| ||||
3. |
Ungern-Sternberg
02:33
|
|||
|
| ||||
4. |
Death Of You
02:15
|
|||
5. |
Child Of The 90s
02:09
|
|||
|
| ||||
6. |
||||
|
| ||||
7. |
Big Ups From Carbondale
02:41
|
|||
|
| ||||
8. |
Good Night, America
02:49
|
|||
|
| ||||
credits
released 05 May 2011
Recorded, Mixed and Mastered by Custom for Custom Audio Landscaping: SoundsCustom@gmail.com
Cover photography and art by Dr. Quandary for World Around Records. If you want to get in touch with him: docquan@gmail.com
Recorded, Mixed and Mastered by Custom for Custom Audio Landscaping: SoundsCustom@gmail.com
Cover photography and art by Dr. Quandary for World Around Records. If you want to get in touch with him: docquan@gmail.com
tags
license
all rights reserved
feeds
feeds for about
The debut collaborative project from Louis Mackey and Thirtyseven (Humpasaur Jones/Wombaticus Rex/Algorhythms) juxtaposes the duo's scathing rhymes with hard psychedelic funk to sculpt a nihilistic concept record on which everyone is a target, and no human is safe. ... more
contact / help
For help with downloads, click here.
For all other inquiries, click here.
Redeem download codes here.
- Track Name: Intro
-
(Louis Mackey)
it’s early in the morning before the city’s awake
I’m busy forging the words that can get me to grace
no slippery slopes or apologetic diatribes
I’ll die tonight if you find a lie in this entire rhyme
I got Leviathan in my eyes again, doing it now
a beautiful sound, no motherfucking humans allowed
the earth looks pretty from here, as I’m eyein our chances
the cities appear on the dark side of the planet
(Thirtyseven)
five oclock in the morning, somehow I’m still awake
these are not rhymes, these are thought crimes in fifty states
the cops showed, we chill and wait, got stoned and still escaped
run for blocks, buzzing off the blood in Bob Dylan’s veins
...see, I always figured that I’d probably die
before I ever became a sane and responsible guy
so I try the meet and greet but I can never relate
because to me you’re venison steaks doing impressions of apes
(Louis Mackey)
the fee is free, you just need to see and open your eyes
and even me, I’m a measly seed in a ocean of time
every moment is a gift, totally beholden to which
we solely exist because of one fortunate tick
and when it’s over, it’s it, kiss the coldest abyss
I do not owe you shit knowing this is
no hope or a trick that’s eventually going to fix
your worldview unless we successfully explode it to bits
(Thirtyseven)
and now the plot thickens as the picture is distorted
yeah, I sound a lot different on original recordings
got a high sensitivity to Zen simpilicity
but kids who try to mimic me can visit the
emergency room, passed you off to the surgery crew
because I am not in the building or the shirt or the mood
to spend time working with you, dude, honest assessment:
I have not been impressed with the way a lot of you rep it
(Lou)
whatever I’m stuck on today I can shoe it aside
look out in the beautiful wide and my ego crumbles away
you humans can lie and tell yourselves you’re something in space
but the assumption is based on a clutching to faith
the cuffs and constraints and fundamental debates
of which under the face is really governed by hate
and when the covenant breaks and there’s nothing to save us
we’ll burn slow then return home as we come to a quasar
(Thirtyseven)
..yeah, that’s that Big Picture that I’m talking about
that’s the final frontier...and that’s Freemasons locking us out
so when I smoke my salvia, that’s straight space science
till I can upgrade to enough space to raise lions
cuz if I build there first, fuck you, the moon is mine
that’s the main reason I waste weed on stupid rhymes
Im just raising the funds to aim for the sun
...guess the rest of you can stay in your huts and wait for the Flood - Track Name: Not of This Earth
-
(Louis Mackey)
here’s trainwrecked actor or a mainstream rapper with a catchy line
so ya’ll stay enraptured I’ll fall back to it eleven times
hipster hop, devoured up, beaten to death
by what the hour wants in and out, one media breath
but easy chump, this beat is just a reason to be breathing demons up
til I’m seeing leaking guts, steeping in sea of blood
he told it clear the little prick only had to speak it once
whose whole career is moldy beer, cigarettes and seedy blunts
I’m awfully sick of settling for small kicks of adrenaline
half-wit woman, liquor and prescription medicine
now there’s nothing more to lose, so it’s worthless to say
that “it’s all been done before” assumes a purpose or way
above our orbital fray, a direction working to gain
a knowing of a higher source for our pain, an order, recourse for the blame
but there’s nothing, never was, just good ole’ crude enslavement
they set up you up to get your blood thru your own hallucinations
(Thirtyseven)
people want some entertainment ... simple little statements
rap is noise with free plastic toys your kids can play with
Waka Flocka Flagrantly retarded garbage artists just exist to hit
the hardest target market, which is hipster kids
this crossover pop flow is so boring...
kids, just GO FOR IT, off those little domes with no choruses
I know I should hold my peace, but see, most of your flows are weak
and yet most of the shit I've said is straight over my critic's heads
I'm larger than life, the poverty nights with ramen and rice
then walk in tonight and Viking slaughter the mic
fuck waitin, the frustration of a couple month waiting
then change it up to playing buzzed and waking up in bus stations
the art of the scam...yeah, man, I'm part of the band
drunk for days, wake up and ace some Harvard exams
so pardon me man, see, I'm basically a shark with some hands
and if you're gonna spit, please fucking spit as hard as you can... - Track Name: Ungern-Sternberg
-
(Thirtyseven)
does thirtyseven still battle? probably not...
if I gotta prove shit to you kids, I’ve already lost
motherfuck a diss track, I’ll be calling your moms
and then having your ass grounded if you talk to me wrong
actually bro, I’m over stabbing rappers at shows
I practice alone, study tracks and master my tone
with classic control, and my live act is actual dope
so act like you know, and back up while I pack up and go
no offense, dude, but fuck your local music scene
I speak of errybody and I touch the whole community
I’ll book your home town, do a bunch of frontal nudity
and have you whole fan base running home to google me
….I’m a one man poetry slam
plus the opening band getting stoned in the van
me and Lou have blacked out off at least 40 beers
and we produced a rap album longer than your careers
(Louis Mackey)
Does Lou Mackey talk shit with every breathe that he’s got ?
Bet I’ve tested my weapon from Texas to Prague
left some Estonian broads, stunned, breathless in awe
after i crashed the rental car and still went to the bar
woke with memory loss, and espionage charges
guess that it’s all garbage, death to the other artists
place bets that your off target—
with whatever fuck-endeavor, convenient store attempt to get audience
and frontal nudity is nothing to new to me
clear out the chumps, prudes and leave just the beauty queens
she’s here overnight, but I’m sending you home, it’s bedtime
too good for open mics, too unknown to headline
it’s the same song, we aren’t new or progressive
except for day long seances in studio sessions
told the other side, “yeah I got the message”
just shut up and rhyme back YouTube’s comment section
(Thirtyseven)
can you poodles get the point of NO HUMANS ALLOWED?
...future mutant music for the few and the proud?
...of course you Normals are snooping around
stop and watch, call the cops cuz these dudes are too loud
but nah, I search for a way to make a cop burst into flames
off of nothing but a verse that I made, yup
...I’m sure you get blazed and work on the same stuff
schmuck searching for fame, commercial and bankrupt
basically, you remix your favorite three great emcees
...you’re a dope cover song, way to be
way to be redundant, way to be a waste of meaty substance
...way to be a brain in pre-production
...daydreaming ‘bout the cake you need to run shit
when we been masterpiecing off a straight graffitti budget
world around show and proving
dope producing, no excuses...yeah, I know, it’s so confusing
bad touch, the shame and disgust
took one look at me and couldn’t speak my name for a month - Track Name: Child Of The 90s
-
(Thirtyseven)
I know, it's so obvious we stole all this shit
plagarism posing as post-modernist
I can do the suit and tie or do the do or die
you decide, Judas, I'm used to being crucified
crazy what can brew inside a human mind
but who am I to judge another's man stupid lies?
never learned the truth, but I learned to see
whatever works for you, can learn to work with me
and real talk, I'm sick of real talk...moment of silence
see, the second that you said that shit, I know that you're lying
and that's the real pattern to what's happening here
if real recognized real, you wouldn't have a career
but fake recognize fake, though: sheep suits, plainclothes
secret handshakes, loopholes and grey zones
passwords over payphones, fake bank notes
remote detonate the payload and came straight home
(Thirtyseven)
no days off … no downtime or DEE lays,
blazed out, outlined a three page breakdown...
no days off … no median, no sleeping in
no easy wins...no clowns, no comedians
(Louis Mackey)
waiting by the phone, hoping it doesn’t ring
jazz playin thru the gramophone, someone sings
reflecting back, clouded, stuck, sittin stunned
didn’t really think about what happened till it was done
backed outta the scene, and straight walked away
as sirens screamed and squawked, they saw my face
there was no need to stop me as I calmed my gaze
paused to read my watch and saw it all in flames—
...the blast field dents the earth
nothing better than the feel of a cleansing purge
—the veteran police chief went berserk
when he heard we made the jet engine dead for Zurich
...child of the 90s, before those beliefs had died
that piece of my life tried to eat me alive,
the demon that thrived then is still sleeping inside
keep speaking your mind, he’ll be easy to find
(Thirtyseven)
no days off … no downtime or DEE lays,
blazed out, outlined a three page breakdown...
no days off … no median, no sleeping in
no easy wins...no clowns, no comedians - Track Name: All Anxieties Tranquilized
-
(Thirtyseven)
History is nothing but an ad for being white
so I piss on your assumptions and your cracker Jesus Christ
yeah, hi folks...whats up, I like to rhyme yo
and leave your mind blown through your slave labor iPhones
stop bitching cuz they’re giving you prescription drugs
you don’t have a condition, chump, you’ve just given up
...you were hoping it was hopeless and bam, now it is
and you got every last excuse that you need for cowardice
drives me crazy, dude..how many times I gotta say to you
Obama is an actor and Bill Clinton fucking hated you
no matter what, the same players make their dividends
(they’re only legalizing weed to keep us all from killing them)
the internet exists first and foremost to search for porno
(yeah, word to axl rose’s perfect corn rows)
prove me wrong...see, I know what movie’s on
and I see through, beyond and back around to do this song
so move along...
(Louis Mackey)
“experts” flock at speaking functions to sit and talk
while the preacher and priest are running to the liquor spot
living stops when the numbers on the ticker drop
seems your fickle God has gone and took a trip abroad
not sour or broken even in the bowels of the omen
I’m just trying to get my piece of power to broker
it’s not subliminal, though they doubt that your focused
just common criminals who work out in the open
...walk down Wall Street like the Man with No Name
I confront you as the type to stand stone faced
you scurried to get out of my hand’s honed aim
etched “GREED” in your forehead, you ran home maimed
to get back in order, while I drunkenly strut my wares
at the corner of Wall and Nassau, stumble up the stairs
a kiss goodbye, swig the rye, and hit cover
...I got a big surprise coming for big brother - Track Name: Big Ups From Carbondale
-
(Thirtyseven)
we keep it too loud to fucking pretend
there’s any way to safely fake a conversation with your dumb as shit friends
watch it and weep...yeah, babe, philosophy’s deep
it’s a deep dish of cheez whip and cheap nachos to ME
thanks for snack, I love the way your faces react
like nope, that was not joke he ain’t taking it back
fuck this crowd, that’s right, you love me now
so jump around get drunk and loud let’s shut shit down
(Louis Mackey)
the times I watched from afar with the shame
of how I let this clown who rhymes out-market my name
Now I’m dumpin’ shots down the pipe at the bar in my brain
punished by the sound of a white tard barking it’s name
these excuses running back that can be made in the stead
of the cold fucking fact that I just laid in my bed, yes
from the night before, surprised my brain isn’t dead
roll over, stone sober, face to face the ex
(Thirtyseven)
I’ve seen a lot of ladies throw drinks in his face
she said something something, strode quickly away
came back an hour later, wrote her digits and name
give it a day, and she’s going Code Pink at his place
(Louis Mackey)
Not exactly politically correct when I consider what is said
I aim for the hearts and Thirtyseven hits em in their head
writtens in the flesh, next up is the slick magician’s set
and isn’t a success unless we’re getting in her bed
(Thirtyseven)
everybody wants a Matt Damon moment with Lou
when you stare at him with that face, I know that it’s true
you just wanna argue backstage, the show is a ruse
for a closet homophobe to make his opening moves
(Louis Mackey)
think that it’s strange how I shut off when you bitch and complain?
Like dude that’s cool but I’ve got no interest today
another rap tool, who asks you if his mixes were straight
I’m like, “Fuck it, just quit”... simple and plain
the kid was so stricken with rage i got hit in the face
the shit i’d pay to never suffer another shitty refrain
sloppy and wack, and then they tactically fail
like they’re not a copy of an act on a national scale
(Thirtyseven)
photocopies...clones with stoner hobbies
short bus rappers, future frozen bodies
you know the type, grade school graduate overbite
and anywhere you go tonight there’s two at every open mic
don’t know how to hold a mic, rapping since the 80s, though
you’re dumb and lazy, bro, it’s a shame that you get paid for shows
….the fact you got fans is a problem to me
cuz chances are, those random tards probably breed
(seven three thirty thirty dirty birdy word up)
y’all are turd polishers, you aim for the charts
you’re not artist, you’re a target and replaceable part
yeah, welcome to the industry, kid, something vicious
jungle fitness, don’t hustle gimmicks, struggle different - Track Name: Good Night, America
-
(Thirtyseven)
I can make the case for euthanasia to a room of strangers
...not just convincing them, convincing them to do it later
you’re saying life is beautiful but you’re a stupid hater
I’m basing that on basic math that you can prove on paper
…I can set the weapons on the stage and walk away
you can’t direct improvisation, you’ve just gotta pray
but you can bet this modern age has gotta pop someday
and you don’t even wanna contemplate the way this all relates
...and I can see that we’ve been freaking you out
shoulders up, little stoner stuck deep in the couch
you cobra clutch social drugs to keep people around
but you know it’s a joke and they see through it now, ouch...
I can bet that we do not agree for lots of reasons...
won’t matter when we’ve lost our heat and crops are freezing
won’t matter when you’ve gotta keep your Mom from screaming
cuz she’s watching zombies feeding off her daughter’s body pieces
(Louis Mackey)
I wonder... does the strain end in this vicious maze?
we’re all seeing under the same lens with different shades
it’s a shame, when we’re hollow and done...to sit and wait
for the sickle blade to swallow us up, and hit the grave
pain’s deep, probably smothered out your faint dreams
wake, sleep, walking up and down the same street
going manic with this same shit, I can’t obey the matrix
frozen fabric in space, moving animated faces
rabid mannequins standing in a straight line
its hard to handle this and exist at the same time
...I pass by the old theater, stuck in the rain
they're grippin' cups for our change, I act like I don’t see em'
though it’s getting dark, I handle my payload
...swim with sharks, dance with the angels
and I’ve made it far to see the ease with which
...saints get shot and thieves get rich
