It’s been a couple dog years
Ninety-nine bottled up wall’s here
A solving all problem tall beer
The wad of cash- pockets; still knotted and fall near
I’m so happy you called dear
Come here sweetheart
The ball-court’s covered in street art
Bees all around, dogs bark at the beat cop
And to be honest, one cannot teach knowledge
You can do anything, nothing is ever complete promise
Compete, contest, preach, god bless
Eating too much and so we each got less
He’s off the beat path, the beat pad is stressed
Ctrl+Alt+Delete when you tweet your text
Got wounded at Salt Lick
Counted all the blues in the ball pit
Assuming you all did
Why you so blue in the ball-skin
I see your shoes under the stall, kid
Dude is an all-star
Truth is; the fruit don’t fall far
Fly like feathers and hot tar
In his weathering stock car
Better off headed to bar hop
Better start checking the clock more
Sock in a top drawer
Got ‘em all knocking a locked door
Talking in tongues, all provocative, ‘God, Lord’
All aboard, a la mode with me
Know the street code, keep a coat or you’ll freeze
And I’m walking in Russian
I’m talking and blushing
And saying things that’ll stop a discussion
Usually off at a function
I’m coughing a bunch
I’m tossing my lunch; I’ll eat it again
Speaking of talk shows
Ethan is not host
He ain’t a hotshot
Reeking of pot-smoke
Caesar with sardines
A seasonal frog-throat
Street keeps the car clean
He’s keeping his dog close
Prolific Mexico City rapper SPEAK ponders the self-isolated age on a booming EP, recorded live in his kitchen during quarantine. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 24, 2020