by Vibe Leviathan

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Jay-Radd Vibe Leviathan maximizes minimalist rap with this killer track. Now where the hell is the rest of the album?
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    This is premature. I hope you like it. The EP will be out this summer. (Produced by Vibe Leviathan)

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So fuck the Cohen brothers and fuck J.D. Salinger.
All hail Namco. I'm so foul with the Soul Caliber.
Vibe is Excalibur; stuck in the stoned mindstate
with Hare Krishna engraved on the blade.
I peeled back the lids on these radiant eyes;
a reflection on the jade in the sky.
And whether or not they were made and designed
by the devine is a question for later, for now i play with the rhyme.
And so I hauk spit lyrics. I talk with spirits.
We speak in morse code of my leaking hoarse throat.
I'm on the top floor. Gregory Hines on the ceiling.
Load the reel in. Let the projector shine on him; heal him.
Ain't had a meal in a minute.
My mind starts to reeling and spinning.
Clouds congealing in the sky start revealing an image
of lions. I'm catching glimpses of Zion,
wondering whether I'll be at the summit when time ends.
Lifes Ill.
Fuck whoever said to you it's a game.
My skin stay stained; there's chemicals in the rain.
That rain's something I had to stay away from.
I packed my shit and flew to the desert where there aint none.
Wasteland, red rocks, dust and radiation,
demonstrations taking place over immigration.
YA BASTA. City of metaphysical rasta,
ten thousand dishonest artists with unbalanced chakras
I spit the thorough, that pure flow, that Aquafina.
Been at it since the days of 2 liters and ocarinas,
back when I used to pray to Athena and Proserpina,
before I caught subpoenas for blazin a lotta reefer.
The sand I'm standing in is not a teeter totter either.
The acid covering my tongue is not a blotter either.
The poverty the people felt has now been inside of me
so I don't understand when rappers rap in onomotopoeia.
They gotta re-up.

I've traveled the land over gravel and sand hotter
than Uma Thurman in Gattaca: Kraken the Land Trotter
packin a damn water pistol, rapping cantada,
clapping my hands for my man, Afrika Bambaataa.


released June 9, 1969
Written by M. Wilson
Produced by M. Wilson
Recorded by A. Lopez-Moreno at Birthday Bot Studios



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Vibe Leviathan Wilmington, Delaware

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