Foolish Duel 'ish

by Wrave & Killahcane

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about

My friend Larry of Filth Moth Productions one day told me that after ten years of making music, something happens; you achieve a professional unique sound. We both had a lot of talent to bring to the table, but were never sure how to mix the two styles together before.

Wrave and Filth Moth Productions finally team up to make a collaborative album that blends music somewhere in-between experimental electronic sounds, and modern hip-hop. We want you to be confused about what genre you're listening to, but still bobbing your head. Think hyphy but more ambient. Think RnB but more chiptune. Think orchestral rap songs that really get in to that orchestral thing a little farther than you're used to. Think banjo and dulcimer meets classic MPC stabs and high sensitivity microphone sampling. Think thrift store record remixing meets iPad.

It's an exciting project so far that we believe is going to give you same feel as epic collab albums we love.

Shout-outs to our fans, followers, friends, family, and fräuleins.

credits

released May 14, 2013

Tracks by Wrave and Killahcane
Mastering : Filth Moth Productions

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Wrave Columbia, South Carolina

Programmer by day. Experimentalist by night.

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Track Name: Lava Man feat. Getalive
Yeah.
Manifest!

My baby's sayin' that I'm hot
a triple threat up on the block
making Haitians, Europeans
and Asians sweat off they socks

Hickory dickory dock
tick-toc go the time of clock of our fame
a few of you are running, most of you are walking
99% of ya'll niggas are lame

Me myself I'm a ma-ma-master of this flow
call me Obi Wan Kinobi
and this is for my individuals
that do not know me

I'm the maker of the moth
that is filthy
heating up these now or nine blocks
worse than devils giving hickies

They say
They say
They say that I be hot as lava
They say
They say
They say that I be hot as lava
They say
They say
They say that I be hot as lava
They say
They say
I be hot as lava.

Driving from the passenger side
I'll take you on that
atonal ride

Flipping parts of the house
bats in the attic
cat chases mouse

We -ish that's golden
guano, protein molten
We're bats
We're bats

We're like elephant dung
kids throw it around for fun
if your hot as fire
I'm cut man

Lava man spews molten rock
well I'm rockin
blades of steel that's what I use
I'm chopin'

Old school new school
Wrave's the name
I'm too cool
Don't call me Iceman
you'll bleed like a fool

--

Getalive spit fire flame
ashy girl she know my name
tellin me I'm too hot
well baby girl I make it rain

Shit this just a little change
me my team we earned our fame

Tres the shots went to champagne
wanna buy my swag no wholesale gain

Hitters are irrelevant
when it come down to these presidents
Ready are my elements
Ain't nobody a better man
I am a predator

You've never seen me run and duck
wouldn't want to press your luck.
Track Name: Mr. Wahh
"Yes. Yes I am. I am the greatest rapper alive. I am Mr. Wahh."

With a bowl of rice, Mr. Wahh's sittin nice,
coated in ice, he's a lyrical rap vice.

We put up with his crap. He spits the finest rap.
Mr. Wahh, could you please give us some of that?

Petting his hound, he says something profound, that
"the beat is around, but it has to be found."

Does it exist? Just give us the gist!
None of this mist with a twitch in our wrist.

Oh Mr. Wahh, you could've been a rap star.
Oh Mr. Wahh, you could've been a rap star.
Oh Mr. Wahh, you could've been a rap star.
Oh Mr. Wahh... Oh Mr. Wahh...

"I don't think so. I don't give my raps away to anybody. Not for free; not for money; not to nobody nohow."

He said we'd be fine. He said we were swine,
sipping his wine among some equine.

Shrouded in a veil, this holy rap grail,
but the ship will sail, and to no avail.

Will we get what we want: to be a confidant?
Mr. Wahh's secrets taunt. We're l'enfants...

It was time to retire, but we had to enquire
why sit next to the fire without any desire.

Oh Mr. Wahh, you could've been a rap star.
Oh Mr. Wahh, you could've been a rap star.
Oh Mr. Wahh, you could've been a rap star.
Oh Mr. Wahh... Oh Mr. Wahh...

And he said,
"I'm the incredible
the young unforgettable.
You all are miserable,
better yet pitiful.
Unforgettable!
Watch me break down in syllable.
Interval!
I am Mr. Wahh, The Invincible."
Track Name: Wrave - Sttabbs
sttabbs!
stttabbs!
stabbbbbs!
stabbsbsbbbbsbzzzaaabb!

breaking glass and gun shots
falling dirt and crumbled rocks
zipper pulls and riled up jocks
ticking hands on grandfather clocks

(Chorus)
sttabbs!
those foley sounds
from sample banks
used by producer clowns

sttabbs!
when a word is not enough
you have to use a stab
so you can sound more tough

fung fu and earthquakes
revved engines and squealing brakes
basketball shoes and hissing snakes
drum machine cowbells that sound like fakes

(chorus)

celery cracking and bamboo sticks
tattoo needles and smashing bricks
that lapping sound when you're doggie licks
money counters for those rich ass pricks

(Bridge)
the light sound of an innocent laugh
champagne pouring and a bubble bath
how much mushier could it get?
oh, but you sampled porn from the internet...

synthesized sweeps, touch tones phones (sttabbs!)
modem squeals, and abstract tones (sttabbs!)
SID chips running secret zones (sttabbs!)
divas singing in their bedroom all alone!

(chorus)

videogame noises, and 80s toms
shooting soldiers under dropping bombs
ten thousand sounds on 10 CD-ROMs!
you give yourself away if you sample your bongs

(chorus)

(Syncopated ending)
low pass filters make lasers
electric buzzes from tazers
you know we're really trying
if we're sampling our razors

but hey! if the bass drop's low
and the record scratch isn't to slow
put a donk on it and go
filth moth and wrave, we know about
sttabbs! (echo..echo..echo..echo..echo..echo)
Track Name: Wrave - Wave The Tree Goodbye
There was never a place that was quite like home
i often found myself riding bikes alone

along the sides people passed away
friends left for other neighborhoods, while others came

feuds burned hot. stories worth writing down
while others we kept as secrets from the rest of the town

ward road and patrick, north of the beltline, our hood
throwing clay, firing squirt guns, kicking leaves, and breaking wood

I miss the woods, they kept the richest dirts
I learned that to fall on asphalt instead of the ground it bleeds and it hurts

the business in the office building that took those trees away faded, too
and i missed my chance to wave the tree goodbye where i buried you

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