Bat Country

by Duke Buzzy

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about

Wanted to give Hunter Thompson a fitting tribute on the 10th anniversary of his passing.

Here's this thing instead.

It has Batman in it.

Parental Advisory: drug references, descriptions of violent situations, tolerant representation of mental illness, allusions to law enforcement that could be considered negatively prejudiced, at least one occult reference, and sometimes I say things like "fuck" and "goddamn." Whatever else this is, it's a rap record.

credits

released April 14, 2015

all songs written & arranged by S.Duke Ellis (except 'featuring' vocals)
all songs produced & performed by Duke Buzzy (except where indicated; 'featuring' vocalists obviously performed their own stuff)
some vocals recorded by William "Prolific" Rideout at the Chelsea Room, Toronto (all other vocals recorded by Duke at KMS)
mixed/mastered by Duke Ellis at Krow Magma Studio, Toronto

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about

Duke Buzzy Toronto

Duke was born in Toronto & immediately taken away from it. Years later, he went back for 7 years & loved it.

Now he's in Ottawa, focusing on production, as opposed to being a solo artist.

For 2 years Duke hosted & produced "Between Bars on Round Table Radio," a podcast dedicated to independent Canadian Hip Hop music & the artists who create it.
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Track Name: Fire Up the Mojo
(There aren't any, really. Just some smashed samples from "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" here).
Track Name: Hazy Shade of Crazy (featuring Alan Watts)
Ignore the warning pouring from this evil mouth
drooling foolish, spewing news for you to scream about
I live this life I mostly only used to dream about
I'm a candle in the sun; somehow it just evens out
I've heard the learnéd words from herds of dirty, thieving louts
I know the road is cold and hopeless, so I need my doubts
my wits are sharper though; my cuts are cleaner now
I got the skills to make the kills, leave you bleeding out
tools snicker-snack sharp, razor-blade fine
reflective as selective spectral sun's rays shine
love my neighbor patiently, but at the same time...
I got these two middle fingers in a raised sign
the blues can make you happy and sad at the same time
and that's how I clock sane in a deranged time
peace is the hope, but I ain't tryin to change minds
I told you I was crazy, baby. I ain't blind.

hazy shade of crazy, baby; I ain't changed... I'm
the aviator, taking aim & making gains align
amazing ape; I shake with rabies and behave fine
the pains the same, and it remains... mine.

the past doesn't exist
the future doesn't exist
there is only the present
and that's the only real you that there is

I ran for mayor of Dogville, to unexpected cheers
threatened the infrastructure of my unelected peers
but those unconscionable bastards work protected fears
anyone else who wants democracy, does not expect it here
could find the answers if the analytics might be scanned
to know exactly why we leave the meat and bite the hand
worship a country made of paper, turn and smite the land
I'd rather just go get twisted, man... that's a delightful plan
I got the right to write it, critics got a right to pan
even if it's clear to all that they just don't quite understand
applaud with abandon at this magic sleight of hand
but forgive me if I sit, for I am too polite to stand
maybe the dust under this razor blade can save me
plenty of good intentions here to pave the way that breaks me
off the chain, outta the cage; grateful, baked, and lazy
a hazy shade of crazy? I'm depraved and hateful.
Pay me.
Track Name: Misty Morning Drop Pt.1 (State of Mind)
god damn the sunrise; I've arisen
hand to gun, with a wider vision
no time to consider my decision
son, shut up & fly the mission
got a fistful o' live 'munition
had six misfits; five are missing
drop three 'cid hits; time to pitch in
[is that wise?] fine, it isn't
look here; I've tried to listen
been tryin to fight the system
it's like this private prison
and my mind is kinda fizzling
ain't looking for rhyme or rizzin
got both; ain't neither missing
but hindsight is dying
time flies and might lies; and I'm witnessing

I really don't remember
what time it was... What's next?

Sunday; morning; storming
caustic rain on my head; it's boring
ain't shit but another storm-head forming
sleep til police come kicking the door in
slept in the clothes I was born in
mighta been dosed while I'm performing
don't really know… yet; I'm ignoring
a wake-up call, a threat, and a warning
I've only half begun
to have my wacky fun
don't say that can't be done
Ulysses Grant? he won
went from unhappy drunk
to laughing at these punks
So pour some bourbon for the curb
and play that nasty funk

I know that it's all a state of mind...
Track Name: Misty Morning Drop Pt.2 (The Fall of Yod)
that's right
MUSIC!
when it comes to that fantastic note
where GAWD bites his own head off,
throw that fucking radio
into the tub
with me.

God didn't do that...

We fly high, but Lo-Fi
You know it. We go off the cliffside
like a million albatrosses;
don't know your name, but felt your losses.
I know the pain, trying to carry your crosses,
the snow, the rain, malevolent causes
Track Name: BFC
got flows in the backpack
on the road; jack kerouac
it's a cool wind blowing my hair back
where'm i goin? i dunno, not aware of that
all i gotta do is go right there and back
turn up the beats & hit the gas
leave marks on the streets and kick some ass
other sharks might sleep, forget the past
i'm a dark knight freak & built to last
old school and a classic model
hip fool with elastic throttle
jet fuel in a plastic bottle
skip rules like a magic pothole
the way navigated without signs
hell on wheels
way outta line
lunar wax you could never outshine
true facts; never doubt mine

(keep your money
in a big fine car)
i call it the Fatmobile
do not care how bad you feel
(keep your money
in a big fine car)
hit the gas like that and squeal
like a flying rat for wheels

i'm living in the turn of the place for the keys
and a desire to race the police
the next decade is a waste if he sees
how the trunk's loaded with a case for my needs
U-Turn as i face enemies
change of plan
brace for the Gs
roll down the windows, taste of the breeze

MAKE THE BASTARD CHASE TIL HE BLEEDS.

kick down the door; we ain't knock
speak damage with an accent; teenage talk
Walter White with the three-eight cocked
got a brain like a flathead V8 block
some days half the cylinders won't work
in other ways i'm a malevolent old jerk
able & willing & killing the feeling
it don't hurt
go berserk
wheelies spinnin & throwin dirt
that's me in a certain phase
i leave earth eating dirt for days
wide awake in a purple haaaaze
hands 10 and 2, alert for the chase
jokerman in a hurtful craze
choke a man with a smirk and blaze
joybuzzz and a jerk to your face
for when rats ain't work in the maze

(keep your money
in a big fine car)
i call it the Fatmobile
do not care how bad you feel
(keep your money
in a big fine car)
stomp the gas down flat & peel
ain't coming back, for real

burn thru the desert of between where i been
and where i'm headed
step up on the scene
spittin that unleaded
eagerly obscene
spending without credit
built like a dream
and it's spinnin out

LET IT.

whatchu really lose when the road ends?
i'm really just cruising with no hands
top down
no rules
no romance
kinda just let loose when the bow bends
draining the whole bottle
just so
never been a role model
just roll
let it out full throttle
let go
custom old auto
best know...
in all this time, i've not learned
headlights in the twilight got burned
played chicken with my life
not yers
just be aware

I MIGHT NOT SWERRRRVE

(keep your money
in a big fine car)
3-5-7 taps the wheel
in case there's caps to peel
(keep your money
in a big fine car)
superb cadillac; it's real
luxurious plastic deal

biggups to Elissa Janca

...all i wanted was a pepsi...
Track Name: Pusher
Gnarls Barkley? Gnarly Barker -
Been darkly harder but I'm hardly darker -
Hit the liquor, hoping I can parlay smarter -
Be like Charlie Parker, but partly larger -
A can of problems; twist the lid, witness - the
Red Bull in the china shop; kickin with the shit list -
Doctor Frankenstein's shit is never finished - ad-
-dicted to these head-twitches; Sid Vicious -
My mission is to go search in snow and rain - for
Answers that were neither in church or in cocaine - to
Questions like, How'd you get hurt with no brain - or
Leaving early; who's Kurt to a Cobain?
I take the High Road, so bring your papers -
And a gas mask for the stinging vapours -
The Fall Fixer to your Spring Breaker - I ain't
Worried; ain't a thing change; Ginger Baker -

CH:
{God Damn}
Raise the ruckus, racketeer a bit …
{The Pusher}
Who copped the pyramid?
And how did You not hear of it?

Never know drama & it's all great
Living low; lava in a raw state
See, I'm a little calmer with my flawed fate
You know when you hear it [Dope Beats & Lyrics]

2:
…Been a few days since the intervention
when life returned to my veins like an injection
This depression is my bane & a mixed blessing
Far be it from me to be sane… quit pest'rin'
I used to shoot blame from the hip, guessing
Never needed to take aim; it's a quick lesson
Never wanted to take names; just Smith & Wesson
Ain't/ Showing no fake shame; just a kid wrestling with his demons;
fighting the better angels of my nature
Not living the dream, but arranging for it later
I could shed tears like complaints of alligators
in the deepest pit of anger; raging in a crater
Accidents will happen, but the change was never major
a gradual approach to getting mangey in a manger
…and chasing paper in the wages from a fader
Arriving just in time to hear the Age say "Later"…
(CH)

Never know drama & it's all great
Living low; lava in a raw state
Now I'm the Dalai Lama of the Small Gate…

Bridge:
Ain't your
Mama, ain't your daddy; I'm that
Shadow in the alley - Got that
Thang that you need; like that
Bangin, Supreme - you know
Me. I'm no friend - I don't
Mind how you end - I'm your
Pusher… and I'm
TAKIN' EVERYTHING YOU GOT! HUNH!

3:
The Spirit of Later is the Ghost of Before
and the Living Moment is the thing we mostly ignore
Like a noose hanging too close to the floor
What the living fuck is that supposed to be for?
Hanging offa that low rope, ya kneel
Got plenty of product, and no hope to deal
Stone broke; no rowboat, no wheels
Plus the grade's low on that home smoke, so chill
I got a product that's so dope it kills
Something those blokes are so stoked to steal
You're the witness to it; it's no joke, it's real... but…
The dope I'm selling, you don't smoke; ya feel -
(CH)

Never know drama & it's all great
Living low; lava in a raw state
Wickedest lyricist gonna draw hate
You know when you hear it [Dope Beats & Lyrics]
Track Name: Been Gambling So Long (Ain't Got Much Left to Lose)
Back to the table; god I missed it -
Get rich, shit; get atavistic -
Represent nothing but a lot of misfits -
a handful of soup & a pot of biscuits -
All out on a shoddy ticket -
Ain't shit, but I gotta risk it -
It's a livin, and a shallow business -
Ask anyone around who lives this -
Tt's a Crap-shoot, tryin'a stack loot -
ain't nobody gonna give a half-hoot -
if you lack roots & get smacked loose -
or run foul of the big black-jack-boot -
Me and him? ain't spoke a while -
last time we did, I choked a smile -
Kept the lid on; smoke and guile -
king in a cage; joker's wild -
So whatever this gambler needs,
gonna fit in a Cadillac trunk -
and once lit the fuse, win or lose,
kissed or bruised he'll be Cadillac drunk -
Rolling bones for a broken home -
passionate as a fanatic-ass monk -
and ain't nothing to laugh at, nothing to grab at.
That Titanic has sunk -
I wanna lay back, relax, tap some ass
to badass battle-ax funk -
cuz I'm back in the saddle; half-whacked & addled
and I hafta handle that stunt -
I got a one-man plan to attack and rattle,
and you can't dismantle that, punk -
Ain't gonna rap to cattle, like it's half the battle;
cuz I can't be having that junk…

2:
Luck is a lady, they say;
and she got them deuces that trump -
she knows it too; she been swaying that
big caboose with a bump -
sparkling in sequins and jewellery,
circling these dupes for a month -
she wears it nice & tight in the back,
but loose in the front...
And I can't resist her;
she says "Choose," and I jump
All in, and all on the line, all knowing -
there's rules to this, chump - understand
But there's always some asshat
gotta ruin the fun -
by getting too fuckin drunk,
losing,
and producing a gun -
like this:
I got me a buzz on, and I don't fuck with the fear.
I'm looking for trouble son; you should have snuck outta here.
Brother, I don't know who the fuck put what in your ear - but clearly
You don't mean nothing; you just threw up in your beer
Pure luck, no additives;
never mind how bad it is - it is what it is
…nevermind he's mad at his -
if I had enough fucks, I'd be glad to give -
That there account's accurate -
I swear on the Virgin Immaculate - love
I love winning and losing; that's the shit - That's
All that I hafta get…

CH:

I been Gamblin' so long (3x) -
How Long?
Lord, I ain't got much more to lose
these hands are hot; got more than moves
and you cannot ignore the muse
man, I have got some stories too…

I been Gamblin' so long (3x) -
How Long?
Lord, I ain't got much more to lose
win lose or drop; just pour the booze…
chip for the pot; match for the fuse…
get bored a lot; get more confused…
Track Name: Yes We Do
Yeah... Had to get back on the mic one more time... one more time.
Can't waste a moment thinking we can go back
to the Way Things Were.
You know better than that.
We've changed things.

Forever.

Close up your mouth to lies about what the youth will do.
Most of us would not survive what they get used to.
The ghosts of successful lives now catch a boot to chew.
Those of us about to die, we salute to you.
We kinda dropped the ball and ran, left the pooch screwed;
prophets turned playa, traded truth for Gucci Shoes.
Ever since, I've been in a bit of a Fugee mood.
It was killing me softly.
I'm better now... scuse me, dude.
Ask like "What's up, Fatlip?" and I'm like "Cool it, you."
And incidentally, yes; you are fucking stupid too;
still looking for sponsors under Vodka, Hats, and Boots? it's used.
Early birds have locked it up; you can rap for booze and food.
I offer neither explanation nor excuse; I choose to
start again and again and again and again and again and refuse to lose.
Got nothing to lose as usual; I'm broke, abused, and bruised.
Yeah, I got something to prove
but you ain't the dude
who
I need to prove it to.
I don't even watch the news. You know what that will do to you?
That ain't a way to get facts, and I should know;
I used to use a few.
Oh good. You're smiling now. I'm happy to have amused you.
You'd think this was despair, but something else has proven true...

Do we live this filthy life til we drop? - Yes we do.
Do you slap a punk who's tryin'a bite what you got? - Yes we do.
Do you believe this is unlikely to stop? - Yes we do.
So do we take this one more time, from the top? - Yes we do.
Do we drop some cool shit like it's hot? - Yes we do.
and when I say "Hip," are you still tryin'a say "Hop"? - Yes we do.

Yes you will.