BANKRUPTCY

by Malkovich Music

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about

a five-song EP, the middle three songs a preview of Malkovich's upcoming albums The Palms Weekend, Flighty and Jim Kong Ill. comes with 14 unreleased and remix tracks.

credits

released 16 March 2009

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Track Name: Prohibition
Grab your partner and do the Charlie Parker, fling 'em
drinks high in the sky, lemme see em
from the Great Election, the Great Recession, the Great Depression, and now the fucking resurrection
dollar and a dream, my motto since a teen
baby mama, daily drama, watch it on the screen
fuck that, get your mind unglued
that goes for you too, that goes for Youtube
do what you do
zoot suits, Saint Louis flats, Stetson hats, black Cadillacs, fly ass cats
if you ain't got style then you ain't got nothing
I'm clean to my cufflinks, fuck what you fucks think
yeah, I feel like cussing
I'm feeling myself cousin, word to Dave Ruffin
I'm going nuclear in the new year so watch your head when the crystal ball counts us in.

So what you think I been waiting for, play the wall
the tragedy of strategy, back to take it all
I came to ball jack, break your back
now find the direction of home and crawl back
I'm all stats, ten years plus in the dungeon
years before your daddy was done pumping out you younguns
my crew seen action, yall newbies ask around and catch the reaction
salutes when we're in the saloon
that's my tune yo
if it ain't oldies then blow me.
new shit? my crew's shit. only
music for haunted cruise ships
ghostly, Bela Lugosi with a Stoli and a stogie
fuck live bands and mic stands
I rock the same loop twenty minutes, left hand holding a Guinness, get with us
Saints & Sinners, 10899 Venice
seven days a week.. rain hail or sleet.

Rappers, catch me if you can man
this is Speedy Gonzalez with a Hollis Run ethic
your shit's too polished, it's begging to get demolished
George Orwell said it, those who control the past, control the present
so what's your motive?
tryna keep up with the Joneses? get your own shit
that's some ho shit and everybody knows it
put some lipstick on if you wanna get noticed
I'm west coasting, trailblazing
bombing yall non-stop, military types call that strafing
dedicated to my fresh-off-the-boaters, non-voters
went from the brokest to making more than their brokers
ex-soldiers that'll solder some shit up to have your unborn kids hiccupping thick dust
don't ask, my future's bright, topaz
my celly rings through the night... no thanks
game like Paulie, don't even call me
just see me on the block... Westwood Block
Track Name: The Jerk
Took ’07 off… figured one year out of 28, what’s the loss?
Had a long breakfast, called the boss
It’s been swell, wish you well, our paths will cross
Spent most of the year on the sauce
Is Malk in his draws or not? Coin toss
At that point it was more of a loincloth
Unless I got company then I let the boys off
Get some air, catch a breather
Your owner is now a man of leisure
I hit Belize and Costa Rica while you stayed home and ordered pizza
Hit France, skipped the Mona Lisa… and ain’t need a visa either
Peace to my green card lady, four years last February… now I stroll LA like El Jefe
What you say we go to Mexico? I’m in D.F. off a bottle of Presidente by Wednesday
Tanning up my new muscles… skinny punk, I work out one week and get plenty pumped
I’m silly drunk… cats asking “do you feel sick yet?” “no, it’s still really fun.”
And I’m nearly done with this one, so…

it's on... check the song... the jerk lives on.

2008 was uhhh… kinda of a blur, my boy assured me it was absurd
Grew my hair out, slicked back
embracing my new incarnation as a used car salesman
Worked on listening more in conversations… I’m up to sixty percent
And I keep observations way past the bare minimum, where women invite me I’m there, sharing opinions
Pretty stare, pretty hair, intelligent, and it’s so rare to get it in such a fine specimen as you
I brush her hand so she understands
electricity, now she sits with me
She looked at the sun over the sea and said “life’s a vacation from eternity.”
And like that, the uncertainty that used to worry me my whole life is now history
I’m free.

DON'T BE MAD CUZ WE'RE HAVING FUN... AND YOU'RE HAVING NONE.

yall pissed at me? Now I’m the enemy?
yall salty cuz I keep it all G?
cuz I got no strings to hold me down and you’re Homey The Clown
permanent frown cuz my fortune cookie said “see the world”
and two days later I’m stroking the Equator
Living in linen, lil drinks with umbrellas in ‘em and plump, tanned titties on television
My religion? Whoever’s serving lunch
so bring on the funny hats and prayer mats
That’s a cute accent, Let’s hang some
I’m in 301 playing Chuck Jackson albums
Two rooms, a kitchen, shower, patio, two weeks for $80 plus AC? Crazy
I’ll be working on my life story, so check for my memoirs
and don’t pronounce the “r”s.
Track Name: Bankruptcy
cowboys on soy
a plate of dogs**t and a bucket of Altoids
one-armed pushup, all trapezoid
my pet Pit ripped my right arm off... down boy!
my insurance agent sounds annoyed.

freak accidents that keep happening
a new car a week and I keep crashing it
ran into an ATM with free cash in it
allow me to introduce my new E habit
let's review each candidate
I like Obama, he seems passionate
I like McCain, he's a maverick
but the f**king guy's tie's clashing with his suit jacket
f**k that s**t.

how do yall do
my hobbies are towing cars and lawsuits
this is my wife Velveeta
my son Dasani, and my daughter Aquafina
got a brother in the service, another in the circus
Jules juggles better man, they got it backwards
kids, meet your new daddy
I'm filing bankruptcy and moving on my mama's balcony
and if you think that's funny, check this
I did a bank robbery with my tank on E and my man on E
because it seems like nothing on the face that all my friends got big closet space
you and your subpoenas can suck penis
Malkovich, the 'I don't give a f**k' remix.

America is David Hasselhoff wacking off with a hacking cough.
Track Name: Bulletproof Tux (f. Sum, P.U.D.G.E., Felix)
Chamber music, fully suited
tuxedoed down with sound, refined, straight from the mind
block walker, shot caller, and cops got the drop on ya
in the city with that hip-hop aura
as the buildings crowd around you like co-conspirators
95 storeys high, we’re living a miracle
we rushed the staircases, elevators to the top floor
double-locked door so we waited, breath bated
six hard kicks then it gave in
on the rooftop with a boombox, yelling like we made it
but we ain’t no closer to God, we’re just a lot closer to smog
chasing a mirage
some kind of façade that we feed firewood and this is for the lives I took
16-bar rhyme, fuck a hook
Malkovich Man on the run like Afghanistan, back ‘em down man.
Track Name: Innerview (Grazzhoppa RMX)
Triumph, tragedy, trials, tribulations
lives, legacies, lies, transformation
rhyme, melody, style, elevation
mind, memory, salvation
in the pursuit of peace, prosperity, release, relief
360 degrees, complete
I speak wonder, secrete thunder
each and every one of you I seek to reach
the beat wash over your ears like water on bleached beaches
imagination runamuck, Pits off the leashes
it's either get ripped to pieces from the inside out
or let 'em loose, tell the truth, each and every time I step into the booth
elegant elocution, excellent execution, heavenfelt sentiment
revolution in development with deadly intent
I take it to any extent, any expense
continue our ascent in any event, crash scenes, leave barriers bent
money on my joint's money well spent
experience, experiment, don't fear this, no hesitance
the present tense is what we're dealing with, and you're feeling it, true
this is the innerview, this is what we came to do, what it takes to break through
communist politics, whatever I got I split in half and make two
did the math in advance, I know what I'm up against
I fill my tank and give thanks for every buck I get
guns bust, another brother wet, wasn't me yet, and that's about as lucky as lucky gets
and we blessed but still stress the B.S., I guess everybody's problems manifest
and yes, I don't profess to be any less messed up than the next one
deaf, dumb and blind in the mind, sometimes I just get numb
thought I had my foot in the door, turned out to be my thumb
found myself in a war i thought was already won
and everyone's in it with me, and yall in it too
the enemy moves quickly, and leaves few clues
no more time for blame or shame or games, complaints just ain't gon' get you nowhere no more
heretofore the issue is you, the issue is you
this is the innerview, this is what we came to do.
Track Name: Egghead (f. Sum, BLVME, Ali Baba Abnormal)
I got numerous ladies in my new Mercedes
this cocaine is okay but nothing crazy
megabucks, the bank owner pays me
he wears paisley, he thinks it’s stately
more wax in my hair than you got in your crate
and yall just figured out Tom Waits, you got raped
Burnie Nowax, my a.k.a., which classics will I play today?
driving gets real risky off whisky, looking all fishy, to court swiftly, still tipsy
take us to Vegas, this looks real ritzy
so how’d I get in the front door in grilled Dickies?
this bouncer is a certified downer
his girl is fly though, and I bet he leaves without her
Malkovich signing off for tea and chowder
no flour on my flounder.
Track Name: Fuck Promoters (f. Tony EQ, MOLMan, Konfident)
Get a grip, promoter with sweat on his lip, trying to talk shit
like I can’t see a gang of peeps in the street paying ten bucks each
like I can’t see the headliners backstage, choking on prawns and Dom Perignon
like we ain’t drive from LA in a Hyundai, fucked around and went the wrong way on a one-way
fucking with your dumb-ass state, now we got sheriffs calling in airlifts to get our asses out
chicks passing out in the front row, and you blame us.. gee, Columbo
maybe you should get your bodyguard on the job
I think I see him in that dark corner messing with that girl fresh outta Pop Warner
but no biggie, when this is all over we’ll sit down like some grown men and discuss payment
I got two words for yall: break bread.
Track Name: Dope
Smash, cornucopia, mind, kaleidoscope
man everything I write is dope
pop wheelie, brainfreeze, say cheese, wave and smile
c’mon, stay a while, drinks on me
the beat is three gees, the mindfuck is free
the evil doctor grins cunningly… or is that fiendishly?
I seem to have misplaced my dictionary
blank spots on a Rorschach test, I think in inkblots
Mr. President, rap’s a pitstop
to all you earthworms and germs who slept, you’re in debt
get crushed like insect without breaking sweat
the pace is breakneck, got a crowded shitlist
traitors get served first, and all you fakes next
you see the man hanging round town all chill
so you shake the man’s hand cuz the man all real
so you fucking fishface get smoke in your gills
like you’re standing on legs, man, you’re standing on stilts
you’re amongst monsters, some sleeping giants
inhaling experience and breathing science
but while we was earning stripes cats was peeping science
soaking up crazy game and sneaking by us
what can I say? I got a steep bias
rhyme mechanic, here to grease you squeaky tires
waking up in a bad dream, a scene of geek promoters, managers, and their geek clients
now it’s ’05 and nerd rap’s all the rage, cuz one nerd signing checks means ten onstage
put the mic down, go make some daisy chains
this is high intensity, get snapped like celery
a life of sin and rap’s the penalty
it’s a life of pain and rap’s the remedy
BLX, Halifax, get Xed from memory.
Track Name: Rock On (f. Chris Clarke)
Cascade on a track made for a mack
all-black fade, uptown Harlem
told the barber I was from L.A., posted up in BK, just off the A
but not just another clown chasing stardom
Malkovich, rap shit, beg your pardon
back to the wall, man, I’m going all out
sledgehammer hands, I’ll bring a wall down
each sentence relentless, recognize we meant this, no question
terrify cats like a hijack, cyanide cap in my tooth
I’m on that hundred-proof sunroof tip
Krush Groove to “Bust A Move” and I still can’t quit
Sun Tzu on that Art Of War kick, motherfucking carnivore in the art of raw shit
check one two, rap kung fu
gimme the right beat and gimme the right mood and I’ma make your whole crew look like fools
I don’t wear jewels, I spit jewels so be careful
err on the side of caution, cuz being all on my wrong side’s exhausting.
Track Name: Of The Few (f. Chris Clarke)
The will of the few will become the future of a few million motherfuckers
who can’t capture the view I’m catching from my side of the room
gotta straighten up, get in tune
watch what I do, watch who I listen to
stick and move is the rule of the like youth
out the group home, straight up living proof
we talk hot and off go the alarm clocks
light bulbs, but they’re shining quite dull
seems a slight lull in your little plans, man
why don’t you sign up and work for Caltrans?
go join the circus, learn some handstands?
join a support program and hold hands?
gotta hand it to me now, Andy
as far as this rap shit, I’m handy
I see a girl looking lost like Bambi and I’m about to meet her, she’s a Libra
a hint of Selena, a touch of Serena, a pinch of Shakira, a dash of Aaliyah
and when she gets older she’ll be looking like Tina
some real sick shit yo… some Stalseeker shit yo.
Track Name: Whose Booda (Badtouch RMX)
OK, without a doubt, the man known to turn it out
I go from Hammertime to Millertime
from a long line of smalltimers that grind till we aught fire
real shit, we selling low, buy up.
get 'em hooked then bump the shit right up
missed the call, was with babydoll, kinda tied up
yin-yang off this rapping thing, one-man orchestra
orchestrate the big bang, I'm on my shit man
I crash a flow like Feds crashing through the window
creep like thieves, tiptoeing slow
black plimsoles like it's Gitmo, Guantanamo
we wanna git mo' so we trot the globe
Jack Kerouac, on the road for that pot of gold
for a chance to advance I do the impossible
Dr. No on tracks and it's like that
millennium emcees, the empire strikes back.
Track Name: Jitterbugs (Chris Clarke RMX)
Hole in my throat, rock with two mics
Malk man go with the flow, it's BLX
too hype for you beaucou types
this is a warning, scrawled in big red letters
caution when caught in the blade propellers
bounce to the sounds of the BLX click, bounce to the sounds of the next shit
we at the exit before breakfast, you in line at the entrance, stuck off my first sentence
word benching, hundred-ton arm-curl extensions
I down a cup of that power up, out the cut in a buttoned-down tux on some now what
hit the club with love, shared a bitter jug, did the jitterbug then I bit her in the jugs
that's hilarious, word to Larry S., BassLine Xcursionists be the Cali-est
Track Name: Fuck With You (f. Black Silver, MOLMan, Omni, Otherwize)
I put flows on a banger like clothes on a hanger
just a real live rapper throwing rhymes like linebackers
I am the ringmaster of this extravaganza, louder than a Stratocaster
so grab your cameras to catch the panorama
widescreen, data travels at high speeds as light beams to scramble scanners
hijacker, passengers chugging their Mylantas
from Iran to Sri Lanke then back to Casablanca
the plan to conquer land like Alexander
brute force, what you thought, this ain’t sweet home Alabama
I speak into alabaster and crack the plaster
wail on a brunette, leave ‘em blonde as Daryl Hannah
acrobatic antics, manic depressive sentences
spreading like an epic epidemic embedded within your head
I go from angry to happy, hostile to hospitable
docile to difficult, honorable to despicable
step and get Xed with not a drop of sweat wasted
Concentrated Entertainment’s where we laid this
and I ain’t obligated to say shit but I give it up
MOL, Wize, Om, Crag, Black Silver produc
this is our lifeblood, our personal Fight Club
BLX and the rhymer Tyler Durden here to flex
the next beat threats in this piece, so play peace, or get that ass wrecked.
Track Name: I Love Your Wife (f. LoDeck, P.U.D.G.E.)
Sipping on a Coca-Cola, that’s when I scoped her
my M.O., I mosey over and say hola
my first thought, she’s on the payola
till I saw your daughter in a stroller, eating Crayolas
trying to fit a babyseat in a Corolla
hold her over my shoulder, ignoring the odor
she says you’re a software coder right? And tonight’s poker night
poker night…
an hour later, drinking rum with some shit
in your casa, compliments on the plasma
got hotness topless and now she’s tripping
barely conscious, now she’s getting a conscience?
already in a Y-shape, so why hate?
going for the okey-doke I ain’t
she starts to gyrate then vibrate at a high rate
Jesus, I wish you could see this
but you might get irate, might take it bad when I tear out her back and wear her like a hat
ass like basketballs, and she work it like a casting call, almost woke your kid down the hall
tried to leave but she wouldn’t let go of me
I said “Chill, you don’t know me, you’re just lonely
go back to your drunken husband. In the end sex means nothing. You know you love him”
so ease up player, I did you a favor
and you know it, that’s why you don’t trip
so for now, rip up that pink slip
just don’t never forget… I love your wife.
Track Name: The Ugly (Chris Clarke RMX) (f. Chris Clarke, BLVME, J Thorn)
Well it's the bruiser, bully on the block, track abuser
put me off lock, point me at a crowd and watch me move 'em
I flew in, superhuman, boosters in my shoes
shooting off slugs the size of Cubans out mics
cats scottching in car seats and peeling out, wheels screaming loud
homeboys, we give 'em pound, fly girls we dick 'em down, man
don't try to twist shit around, we been with it clown
whipping through your town, drowning your surroundings in sound
lounging behind enemy grounds
dousing the spot in gasoline, flicking a match and bouncing
my style is a cold mountain, an old house with owls in the attic and wolves in the yard howling
I came up scrounging, kept my money in a brown tin
pennies turned to hundreds, hundreds turned to thousands
it's either live kneeling or die standing so I live crouching, waiting for my time to pounce
introducing my crowning achievement, my joint takes you through the whole spectrum, we're oiling your joints
lyric and business, this is the boiling point
on some Luke Skywalker, I drink firewater and chase flying saucers
get your mind altered, sly talker out the wine orchard, horrify
straight ruck when I erupt, Molokai.
Track Name: Henchmen (f. P.U.D.G.E., Felix, Sum, DT)
Cuz when it gets drastic as this, nobody panics
it’s all passing glances, flying through the atmosphere as shit happens
slow-motion explosion, sociologists sit, trying to figure out gorilla politics
inhale, doing well, alpha male, go the bird’s eye view, parasail
shattered nails, picking up glass got my hands all bloody
so now everyone I dap up is family
show me love, my personality’s my salary, staying D double O
running with the hustlebone and look how much I’ve grown
from rolling shotgun, double-tone Datsuns
smoke in the steering column, doing the slalom
but I’ve never forgotten, the very last time I saw him
Big Yusef told me “yall gonna be a problem.”
Track Name: Like A Glove (Pudge RMX) (f. P.U.D.G.E., Ali Baba Abnormal, LoDeck)
Goons stand up, hands up, get amped up
if your man's drunk, stand your man up
if you're in handcuffs stand up
come on yall, give it up for some damn nuts
Malkovich shit, Los Angeles shit
talking that and this but can't hang with this shit
so simple, high-hats, cymbals
and shining high in the sky, the GBLX symbol
I dribble syllables, a serial skiller, top biller, Godzilla
prime minister of this shit here, another hit for the too legit
throw a fit, who you rollin with, this is it
no fear, we're in control here, in this whole sphere, we got no fear
whether rolling on 20s, or rolling on empty, just recognize some real emcees.

Everyone say LA style (LA style) say LA style (LA style)
say NY city (NY city) and all of the above
we do it for the love, the shit fit like a glove.