Pills The Mixtape

by Kounterclockwise

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03:22
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03:40
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03:02
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03:14
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03:12
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03:13
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03:06
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about

Produced by Kounterclockwise - Recorded and Mixed at LitterBox Studios - Mastered by D-Selector at Wreckroom Studios. Guitars on Short by Scott DaDante, Horns on Unload by Duane Morris, Guitars on Cigarette Burns by Ian Leffel, addition vocals on the chorus of 'Cappin' by Sharon Angela Curtis and cover art by Jim Lujan

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released 26 September 2014

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about

kounterclockwise Cleveland, Ohio

Kounterclockwise is Deacon Burns and Kaya Rogue. All songs are produced, arranged, and mixed by Kounterclockwise. All songs written by Deacon Burns and engineered by Kaya Rogue. Additional keys provided by Will Stylz. Guitar on "Replaced" by Ian Leffel. Mastered by John Walsh. Cover Art by Jim Lujan. Executive producers: Douglas Johnson, Carine Gabriel, and David S. Modrow. ... more

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Track Name: Short
"SHORT"
Lyrics by Deacon Burns

Kounterclockwise!
Pump your brakes, check your ticket! Yeah!

My soul is an angel and in my heart lies the devil in a life of grins and fables, darkness and shadows.
World of computers and infomercials,
Daytime talk-shows, sluts and music videos.
I’m a bottle of soda constantly being shaken in a room with no bottle openers.
So what’s your pleasure?
You got your whole life behind you,
I’m a fuel injected suicide machine.
Don’t pull my lever unless you want to feel the pressure
My mind is coming undone at the seams
Drink. Fight. Fuck.
Lost. Trapped. Stuck.
Mouth taped shut, you can’t hear my screams.
I live it. It’s not a gimmick.
Christ and Judas all in one spirit.
True alcoholic, pour me my breakfast.
Haunted by electronics, my mind is robotic.

Easily I approach the microphone cause I ain’t no joke.
Tell your bitch to get off of my tip.
I got no time to give her this dick. Yeah!
Easily I approach the microphone cause I ain’t no joke
Tell your bitch to get off of my tip
I got no time to give her this dick!

For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
It’s cut throat.

This is daylight savings time
Set your clocks back kounterclockwise
This is my demise
The vanishing animal trapped in a world with deaf children.
I can’t do sign language cause my hands are constantly swollen from punching and scratching just to relieve frustration.
Cursed with knowledge, I wish I was stupid like these niggas and bitches all blind with ignorance.
But yet I’m the one held hostage cause I care too much and my love is not accepted.
So ignore it or take it.
I’ll still write it and say it and mean it and feel it
beyond the infinite definition of any dictionary description.
So even if you claim to comprehend, I’m beyond your comprehension
So stop fronting like you’ve done figured out my functions or something dumb nigga.
What you thinking?

Easily I approach the microphone cause I ain’t no joke
Tell your bitch to get off of my tip
I got no time to give her this dick. Yeah!
Easily I approach the microphone cause I ain’t no joke
Tell your bitch to get off of my tip
I got no time to give her this dick!

For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
For sure ya’ll niggas be short!
It’s cut throat.
Track Name: Drug Dealer
DRUG DEALER
• LYRICS BY DEACON BURNS

Coke Soda Water Fire
Now serve them fiends on the corner
Stacking paper, danger
Quick here comes the coppers .
Life of a drug dealer

Two months behind rent
Tired of hearing my bitch bitch
(That) I ain’t bout shit cause I ain’t got shit.
Friends can suck dick cause when the dough is spent
Watch how quick they all trip and split
Leaving you stuck with the check
So I begged, got fronted a package of powder
Stole some baking soda then hit the corner like a soldier
Week straight, same clothes, no shower
Gotta make my quota
Pay back my nigga, flip my paper
Cop my own powder
Now I’m independent trick,
Paid the rent, rolling in my new whip with my new bitch
Nigga can’t tell me shit
Won’t stop until I’m shot or on top, arrested or rich
Can’t quit addicted to fast cash
I love this shit
and the rush you get when hopping the fence
Running from under covers, K-9s crooked and niggas who pull licks.
I stay strapped bitch with that

Coke Soda Water Fire
Now serve them fiends on the corner
Stacking paper, danger
Quick here comes the coppers .
Life of a drug dealer
(2x)

Everyday working 9 to 5 struggling to get by
While my boys selling crack with bitches in the Cadillac
I’m stuck at the bus stop head low no props
Listening to my bosses shit
Broke as fuck, paying rent
While these niggas clocking grip at the club popping cris I’m feeling like a trick
Government taking half my check
Trying to do the right thing but it don’t pay the bills
When you got a GED and barely no job skills
What’s left, wash dishes, mop floors, clean toilets,
Or get package? So I was like, “Fuck it!”
My cousin but me on the game
Weed, heroin, and caine,
Speed, wet, meth, and X
Fiends giving half they checks
Cops lurking, watch your step
Block is hot, pack a tech
The game is hard but no regrets.
All this dough. Yo, It’s worth it.
The hood is like a three ring circus,
The greatest show on Earth.
Nigga if you got the duckets.

Coke Soda Water Fire
Now serve them fiends on the corner
Stacking paper, danger
Quick here comes the coppers .
Life of a drug dealer.
Track Name: Unload
UNLOAD
LYRICS BY DEACON BURNS

Ain’t got no dough but blowing dro
Staying fly from head to toe
Looking rich but we poor
Baby this is how it goes.
Hangin at the corner store, drinking on a forty yo.
Ain’t no other place to go so this is all we know
When you’re raised in the ghetto baby better roll low
Cause when them gun shots flow
You better hit the floor.
When we rock the show I got my crew in the front row.
Cock your gats back, It’s time to unload.

Setting fire to the game cause it’s time for a change
I know you’re tired of these lames
So look at we swang
If you ain’t living on the edge you just taking up space
In this rat race full of snakes out for the papes
We give a whole lot more then what you paid for
Music’s meant to uplift
Not just getting tricks and rings and chains and whips
That’s cool, but there’s more to this then just talking shit.
What does it take to break through to your ignorant crew
They think I’m acting brand new but I got old shoes.
And stand toe to toe with anybody who wants to go.
Cock your gats back
It’s time to Unload.

Ain’t got no dough but blowing dro
Staying fly from head to toe
Looking rich but we poor
Baby this is how it goes
Hangin at the corner store, drinking on a forty yo.
Ain’t no other place to go so this is all we know
When you’re raised in the ghetto baby better roll low
Cause when them gun shots flow
You better hit the floor.
When we rock the show I got my crew in the front row.
Cock your gats back, It’s time to unload.

As above so below all in time all is time
In the mind we grow
Red light, green light, Gots to go
Bootstraps bill, can’t sit still or move slow
Gotta get the dough.
Rent overdue.
Gas bill due.
Light bill due.
Phone bill due.
Baby gotta eat to.
It’s hard to stay positive when you got to provide and give.
Make you wanna sell crack to the kids
Pull a strap and do a bid
With life as hard as it is just to try and live.
We bring the heat like a stove and you can’t stop my glow.
Cock your gats back, It’s time to unload.

Ain’t got no dough but blowing dro
Staying fly from head to toe
Looking rich but we poor
Baby this is how it goes.
Hangin at the corner store, drinking on a forty yo.
Ain’t no other place to go so this is all we know
When you’re raised in the ghetto baby better roll low
Cause when them gun shots flow
You better hit the floor.
When we rock the show I got my crew in the front row.
Cock your gats back, It’s time to unload.
Track Name: Why U Why Not feat. Grown Folk
Why You? Why Not?
Lyrics by Deacon Burns (chorus by Grown Folk)

Why you bring this nigga?
What you bring this nigga for?
Why you bring him?
You know I don’t be fucking with everybody.
What you bring this nigga for?
Why you bring him?

Bewildered, bothered, and bewitched
My life has been eclipsed from stress and bullshit.
From the rumble to the Ritz
On a carousel I sit
Confined to a chair, going in circles, feeling hateful and pissed.
Razor to the fucking wrist
Finding it hard to refuse and resist
You can’t fire me cause I quit.
My legs can’t move so how the fuck you expect me to kick.
Snort it up, smell the flowers in the addict
Locked in my own attic
Like a scavenger eating roaches and rats
Trying to adapt, it’s quite sporadic
I see myself as a 50’s beatnik poet
Hooked on smack, On The Road, like Jack Kerouac.
Eat your Naked Lunch
And feel the crunch as your tooth breaks
From chewing flakes and jagged cunts

My hair matted in clumps
Life is filled with bumps
You on the ledge then jump
Baby live it up!

Why you bring this nigga?
What you bring this nigga for?
Why you bring him?
You know I don’t be fucking with everybody.
What you bring this nigga for?
Why you bring him?

Know the express before your ticket explodes
Cities of the Red Night
Lights run low
Delusions of grandeur have made me spiteful.
Despicable me, I feed off the hateful.
Societies façade is a fraud
Pointing fingers at the odd
Fucking boys behind the steeple
Listen people,
You’ve been deceived.
Time to set the pagans free and get the Christians off they knees.
Like Aleister Crowley the demons call to me
To open up and bleed and spread the disease
Crawling through the endless endings
Only to begin at the beginning
Finger tips slowly slipping
There will be no smoking in the gas chamber
Dance on the land mine, out of time, danger!
The world is false and nothing is happily ever after.
Wasn’t born with enough middle fingers!

Why you bring this nigga?
What you bring this nigga for?
Why you bring him?
You know I don’t be fucking with everybody.
What you bring this nigga for?
Why you bring him?
Track Name: Cigarette Burns
Cigarette Burns – Lyrics by Deacon Burns
Verse 1:
Terrorist tactics flipping styles to the point you would think I was acrobatic
But really I’m crippled and retarded
Living inside my own head
Wheelchair zombie, return of the living dead.
And I need BRAINS, but nobody got none
Just mindless monkeys with fake platinum chains.
And I’m deranged, holding a shotgun like a toothless backwoods hick
Drinking moonshine and shit,
Talking bout, “Where the niggers at? We gonna hang ‘em till they break their neck.”
So respect my authority when I’m on the set.
I’m an intergalactic bounty hunter like Boba Fett.
Behind the moon cosmonaut rock, my brains all wet.
Baby I’m out there. Can I get a mic check?
Making deep cuts until the music keloids
My brains on steroids
I’m a fucking asteroid!

Chorus:
Burning Flags and Burning Bridges
Burning Beds and Burning Bitches
Burning Man and all his riches
Gonna burn the world; use it for my blunt ashes!

Verse 2:
I’m the black Hunter (S.) Thompson,
Fear and loathing in Cleveland
Crippled from my addiction, PCP you got me tripping
Jumping off of buildings doing the Triple Lindy,
Searching for the ending, only end up not walking.
Now I’m Stephen Hawking in my wheelchair pushing up to the mic spitting this lyrical poison.
I’m a mutant being hunted by humans.
I represent the weirdos with no direction
Freaks and cripples with pain pill addictions and ugly ass geeks who don’t get no affection.
The public got my mind twisted and contaminated. I can’t take it.
So fuck trying to be accepted by the fake and plastic Botox-injected spray-on-tan puppets.
If you got it you got it, but if you don’t learn to love it and live with it.
Scream, “THIS IS WHO I AM BITCH!”

Chorus:
Burning Flags and Burning Bridges
Burning Beds and Burning Bitches
Burning Man and all his riches
Gonna burn the world; use it for my blunt ashes!
Track Name: Whip
WHIP - Lyrics by Deacon Burns

Whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way

Where there's a whip
While the cops on the street put your hands in cuffs on your knees begging please.
Profiled by the beast, if your skin ain't bleached be discreet or get beat.
Until you scream out "Toby" (they) got you and your homie in the penitentiary.
Just so the state can make paper and they're quick to pull a trigger, buck down another N***a.

Set your clocks back before the whip cracks and they invade your sh**!
Watch your back before the cops attack, hunting us down like rats, profiling the blacks.
This is for the broke folk that drink and smoke, trying to forget 'cause they can't cope.
and all the pain-pill addicted kripples, getting served by the hospitals, modern day dope.
If you fit the description, there is no hope, just getting slammed down by your throat.
Listen! It's just a modern day lynching, except they use a chair instead of a rope.
Lord of the lash, they laugh with every crack of the whip, leaving another gash. Oh sh**!
Bring it back, arms, legs, hips, chest, thighs, feet, hands, and finger tips. Watch your lip.

Whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way

Where there's a whip
While the cops on the street put your hands in cuffs on your knees begging please.
Profiled by the beast, if your skin ain't bleached be discreet or get beat.
Until you scream out "Toby" (they) got you and your homie in the penitentiary.
Just so the state can make paper and they're quick to pull a trigger, buck down another N***a.

Handcuffed to the beast. Hail to the thief. (The)only thing the meek shall inherit is more grief.
While the Illuminati whip and rape the weak, not allowed to think or speak.
The Snake, Pyramid, and Obelisk on the money of the materialistic rich makes me sick.
But if you make a stand against the government they got the nerve to label you a terrorist. Ain't that a b***#!
Revenge for those left stranded alone in the darkness full of bullets.
And all the cats that you shot in the streets, claiming that they had a gun when you knew it was a wallet.
Keep your kids on a leash and your mouth in a muzzle. (You)don't want to be in front of the barrel.
(We)gotta rebel in these streets of hell before the world pops and they kill Hip Hop.

Whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way
Where there's a whip there's a way

Where there's a whip
While the cops on the street put your hands in cuffs on your knees begging please.
Profiled by the beast, if your skin ain't bleached be discreet or get beat.
Until you scream out "Toby" (they) got you and your homie in the penitentiary.
Just so the state can make paper and they're quick to pull a trigger, buck down another N***a.


MARCH!
Left Right Left Right Left Right - KRIP HOP YOU GOTTA MARCH!
Left Right Left Right Left Right - KRIP HOP YOU BETTER MARCH!
Left Right Left Right Left Right - KRIP HOP YOU GOTTA MARCH!
Left Right Left Right Left Right Left Right - KRIP HOP! KRIP HOP!