This emcee/producer duo finally connect on the microphone with Angle talking about longevity and continuously firing shots. The song is exemplary of the driving force in Angle’s progression through a catalogue spanning over decades, complete with obnoxious gunfire and Scarface bytes.
lyrics
Angle Verse 1:
Patterned after an automatic, I just keep at it.
Round after round, point and blast through the static.
See I don’t carry a clip. I carry a box of belts.
Shoot from the hip, like First Blood, until the barrel melts.
You see the tip is glowing, but I’m still letting go and
Letting the folks know, most hunger talk is smoke blowing.
Smoke screened by green, where’s the craft and cunning.
Linguists put effort in running, but I’m still laughing and gunning.
Choose your grind. Don’t turn an Uber to a cop ride.
Wrong place and time, shooter turn your topside lop side.
Reloaded the damn cannon and balling on demand and
planning to caveman the game with a club and no cheat codes.
Manning torpedoes, for loose beaks and freak shows.
Far as war speech goes, battles get more weak though.
I’m dumbing the pace and numbing the place where dying’s a joke.
Jumping beat space, like Scarface, into a pile of coke and a smile.
Chorus:
I’m reloaded, uh, I’m reloaded, Fire! (x4)
Angle Verse 2:
Don’t want to start things. Aye! That’s what I’ve been telling ‘em.
Tug on the heartstrings, way!, deep inside the melanin.
We made this art sick, aye!, like it needs some medicine.
Let us Edison your lettuce over Benjamins denizens.
The brain is a weapon licking shots, then in between ‘em.
To maintain, you got to set up shop and clean it.
‘Cause carbon deposits’ll have that piece jam for good.
Your marbles are lost and a new man stands where you stood.
Note to self, I’ve been writing notes to myself.
Auto-bio on digi-shelf, but the sex and violence sells.
On autopilot, I’m thirty-thousand foot styling, providing
the science, to break the silence, and incite a dopamine riot,
inside the defiance and poke a Jolly Green Giant.
In the cut with a periscope that reaches the highest.
That’s just my plane. I’m not flying. Another level, I hold it to.
A little bit older dude, providing an overview from over fools.
Chorus Repeat
Samuel Jonathan Johnson Jr. Verse
Chorus Repeat
credits
from Cygnus Opus,
released June 15, 2018
Produced by Samuel Jonathan Johnson Jr.
North Carolina MC Big Pooh tells it like it is, detail for gritty detail, aided by L'Orange, Steve Roxx, and Apollo Brown. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 24, 2015
