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Introvert Party

by Robin Chakra

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1.
Care 03:18
I’m a nerd from the burbs named after a bird bout to get the worm. I’m the rapper of words. It don’t matter if I’m the worst. I ride rowdy rhythm after I flip you a bird and I burp in the flame of your fame and watch it flicker. My song’s on your Mac like a sticker. I stick to the back of your head. Hit harder than a stick to the back of your head. Got a head of getting head, thoughts headed downtown to write songs that someday you’ll have read and found. Don’t sweat my sound. I’m better now than ever. Career’s pulling miracles. Kronk pull the lever. I wreck the rhetoric it’s been said. Objectify the subject and fuck the predicate instead. Got fed up of white bros from Connecticut. Or anywhere in NE where many, many men be. Maybe meant to shut the fuck up. Now I take connections on my Megabus and eat ballads like salads of just lettuce. I used to think better them than us. But I connect dots like Connect 4, bruh, connect four fours with the force of a tour bus. Forge wars over words worse than warlord orphans misinformed over fraud merchants. I believe there’s something missing from your person. I believe it’s your soul. I believe it’s been sold for the price of a bag of Rold’s Gold that’s been spoiled. I’m a stone’s throw away from striking fool’s gold. But paint the bull gold, it’s still gonna make bull shit. That beef bulgogi’s still gonna make you sick. All your homies just think that they are Brad Pitt on the cover of Fight Club. Now ain’t that some shit. I’m not saying you’re a lie. I’m not saying I’m the truth. But I know one of these things is true. Don’t you know? I’m an artist. I’m a Taurus. Ready to snap like a tourist. Always win the race like a tortoise and slice a fuckboy like an orange. Nothing rhymes with orange. That’s only if you’re boring. Can I borrow endorphins till I’m swimming like a dolphin? More morsels of myself for you mice might get me some teenage listeners. Siiike. Psychic, the sidekick who might kill a cypher like science of violence. Engines and sirens are going off ringing and singing in silence. Invisible violins, concerto of muerte. Moreover my worst day’s better than your birthday so you can vacate with your naysay. I don’t wanna hear a single Q & A. Can I get a ay ay? I should go to A.A. today for three days or four days but moral of the story is today ain’t your day. Throw up your hands like “what’s it all for” day Don’t make me Wu-Tang, now it’s swinging swords day. Have it your way. The duel is on. You lose your arm, your friends, your cousins, your dad, your dog, your aunt. I’m on a roll with monologue. I ate your soul like kids nibble little ants on a log. I’m not saying you’re a lie. I’m not saying I’m the truth. But I know one these things is true. Don’t you know? I’m not saying I’m a lie. I’m not saying I’m the truth. But I know one these things is true. Don’t you know?
2.
Over Me 03:15
3.
Are you heaven? Are you real? Are you the feelings that I fear that I feel? When I’m copping a feel on my heart I’m just afraid of the dark. Down at the pier, our relation ship’s appeared to embark. I met you when you were just so insecure. You didn’t know how to speak or hold onto your word. You’d always ask a fella to have to tell you if you were acting ridiculous. Nah, let’s just forget this shit. So I tell the former version of myself to keep an eye of Sauron on those little white elves. Cause people look evil when those people isn’t you. You mistook every action that they do as not true. Is it you that’s the problem? Is that me that is robbing us of the opportunity for some peace and unity? To pop your balloon, I really gotta go soon so stop your monsoon or bye boo, salut. I try to outrun my feelings when I get on a track but the outcome’s me dealing with the sweat on my back and there’s the shit on my plate and all the shit that I ate. I’m named a sidekick. I’m not supposed to wear the cape. “Not bad, man but you don’t have Batman powers” but I’m the bad man who likes to spit a written so sour. Now I’m squeezing the clouds trying to defeat the drought. My life fell apart and here’s the how. Got lost in your river and I’ve gone missing like you’re going fishing and I’m going swimming. Are you heaven? For me you opened up your gates. All seven. I see I’m closer to number eight. And I’m sending a message to sever forever. Deliver the cypher, decipher my message and digest my pregnant pauses. My heart is pregnant and my flow’s going for broke water.
4.
Controller 03:18
I think my brain got sucked away through the television screen these channels that I watch, they all control my dreams. Internet’s my breakfast. Screensavers are ice cream. Remote control wi-fi, I find is my hygiene. My cell phone, it rings for whom the bell tolls. Please don’t forget the pass code. We gotta let this spell unfold. I’m turning the pretty web pages and I’m reading all the facebooks. In these digital spaces, my statements have been wrote I can’t even blink. Take a second away to refresh the page. Wave goodbye to my brainwaves. Cook thoughts in the microwave. Heat for 20 seconds, remove it, air it out. Not here, I’m busy texting. Excuse my air of doubt. I threw away my television. But I can’t live without. Who got the remote controller? I know they hold it in their hand. Who got the remote controller? Patrolling is the master plan. Who got the remote controller and why they always point at me? Who got the remote controller and why don’t I get to see? Like who has control of my brain? Who has control of my brain? I think I lost it. Rap TV said make hand gestures. Do it for the fan’s pleasures. Like I’m making that fanning gesture. Just advanced measures of the transcender. Transforming music, I put in a blender. Wherever I am, I can’t stand the weather, can’t stand to stand up for whatever but gimme the mic stand, I’ll stamp a letter with a set of four fours, I’m the orator. I’ll play the sender. I’ll pull the lever. Straight to the brain I’m the antidepresser with a bitter wit and a forbidden gifted mouth that I happen to have and had written it so fast that I’ve smitten your wack act. And that’s a wrap. To all the swagger actor rappers on screens, ego masturbating, I have to speak my speech ‘cause I can’t sit and be complacent. When I’m spitting, no vacation, no more quitting, try my patience. Try my patience. But it’s been wasted now.
5.
Fuckboys 04:16
Why there always fuckboys outside of my house? Fuckboys get outta my house. Get out now. Yeah. You’re not allowed in my house and I don’t wanna see you around, around town. You think we’re in the same lane of traffic. We’re not. And you say that you spit that magma. You’re not hot. I know I can always count on you. Yes, you when I don’t need a friend. And you know that I know that you know I don’t fuck with you and I don’t follow your trend. You’re all full of shit like a sewer tunnel. And you’re so one-dimensional, y our ass went through a funnel. I don’t chase my dreams. I out run ‘em. And I’m not just in your weeks. I fuck em up bruh. Fuckboys killing me. They on the swarm. Fuckboys still ain’t me. They think they are? I always hear fuckboys talking about their little squad. Thinking they hard when they’re sipping the malt. They sound 10 years old when they’re rapping their bars. In 10 years, they’re still stuck rapping at bars. I’m in the stratosphere, status fatter than Mars. Hey batter, batter you’re up. You better swing for the stars cause after this chatter, cheddar better back up your art. I fuck the competition. Your back is arched and your career is parched, you’re cornier than starch. I got 3 corneas and they all see you’re false. As far as stories go, mine is about to start. Your life’s a theater act but you can’t play your part so you get no call back. Go to your room. You get no hall pass. And when I step up, fuckboys fall back. I don’t mess up, fuckboys crawl back. I never needed your approval or wanted your acceptance. Back the fuck up, fuck brethren. Everything you say is shit you need a fucking breath mint. Kids like you don’t deserve confidence. But you sir gotta fit in with all of you serpents, running your silly circus, fibbing and flipping birds and singing your little curses. I’m serious, you suck, and serve no purpose. I used up the fucks that I had to give. Subtract fuckboys like an abacus. Fun fact you’re pretty wack on average. Now go and run along, yeah yeah, attakid. Introvert Party is the catalyst. That’s pretty far from cattle shit. Gandhi-looking guy but no pacifist. I’ve earned my turn to burn battleships. Who would’ve known?
6.
Like You 04:19
I’m so deeply in like with you. I wanna ride a bike with you. And when my tires go flat and I fall on my ass, you’re not perfect or bad but it’s aight, you’ll do. I laugh when I kiss. I ask when I fuck. I let you fuck me. You make me give it up. Your body calls me. My fingers pull hair. Get caught up in curls. Legs spread everywhere. Find myself in your clothes when the birds wake us up. I sip up your voice, that’s the noise I think of. Your breath is my tea. Your eyes are the steam. Your teeth are caffeine. When you bite me I’m mean and then my neck gets weak. I wanna live in your mouth. Your tongue’s the masseuse. My tongue’s laying on the couch. Your nails scratch my back. I shake at the touch. You slap me in my face and tell me to give it rough and then I yank your hair back. Your neck is next to mine. I breathe up at your ear “I am yours. You are mine.” I lick you left-right, you’re my envelope baby. I’m sending a tremor. Your spine’s December baby. Then I’m all on your floor, thighs squeezing my head. My jaw’s getting weak. I’m tasting your sweat. Your toes start to curl. Your knuckles collapse at my back. You try to grab but you just fell flat. Arrest me. You take me away. Protect me. I need you to stay. Caress me. Don’t push me away. Don’t push me away. I get a week worth’s of life right out of your lips. You’re my protein shake baby, just gimme a sip. My worries go to sleep when our hips go kiss. You’re bitter and sweet. Call you my licorice. I think about you when I’m falling asleep. Get out of my head. I can’t show that I’m weak. I’m a guy, I gotta try so hard to put up a front. I always win everything. My throat never has a lump. You touch my lips and hush my lies with your finger. My body’s the stage. Honey you are the singer. When you’re in the room the lights go dimmer. Why I run from you when I really could linger? You always make me sweat cause you are my ember. You burn real bad and wear me like a sweater. I’ll leave you behind as long as you let me. Hell, I’ll write you a letter but don’t return to sender. Don’t return to sender.
7.
Sleep Bombs 02:33
8.
I used to sip liquor like elixir till my liver get sicker, face faceless invasions with narrow arrows and no quiver, waiting to deliver the speeches that was better than feces. Thought it might be aight to see the white light with Jesus. Wanna be a millionaire. Where the hell is Regis? Couldn’t speak my mind. No telekinesis. Got over succeeding so instead of achieving I stuck to weed breathing, greed fiending to seek semen swimming in women and sinning and weaving a sweater wetter than tears to be dripping. I’m grieving. Adrenaline trembling, melanin felony, melancholy’s colonizing my memories. I’ll call the shots, take alcohol shots but booze will bruise my thoughts. Bruised collarbone, dialing the phone home I remember I was never really ever all alone. Though my style of poem has a versatile flow I could flow up the mountain, but first I grow old watching the throne for far too long to sit around and frown and wish I made songs. So I’m making this, hoping some day I make it. Make shift occur with makeshift words. I may mince words, mix proverb with slur but this author of verse will auto-reverse and offer a hearse to anyone who never heard me off a verse. When on a verse, chuck down like Converse. I chop ‘em down like conifers. The thought kinda hurts. what more do you want from your song singer? Wake up, Chakra sir. Now I don’t even know if I’m real. Am I real? I don’t think I’ll ever find the answer. My brain, it’s a little tiny belly dancer. Entranced by the devil’s fancy. Tryna get in pants but now I’m getting ancy. I never got behind on kicking my own behind. Kicking the beehive trying to feel alive. Gonna be Akeela, someday I’ll just be fine but I’m sipping on tequila, drinking all of the wine. Getting sick of water, now I’m M-A-D hydrated. I’m faded. I hate it. Start to rewind the cassette deck that’s stretched across me mind. When I wake up, open three eyes. See behind the mirror. My vision getting clearer when the terror of error gets nearer. Got a pair of shoes and a parachute. I’m going out suns out, guns out, I’m prepared to shoot. It’s hard to oxidize the thoughts and lies that often lie below those pinstripe ties that decide how I abide in my abode. Let me live life on my own road. It’s hard to oxidize the thoughts and lies that often lie below those awful skies that decide how I abide in my abode. Let me live life on my own road. See I beast the beats when I speaks my heat. I don’t need deceit just to see receipts. Treating trick or treaters to middle finger theaters. Whether hyena or cheetah, enter the fighting arena. Whatever pie you be eating it’s my style you be needing and biting and baking a cake to be stealing. While the mind might be tweaking, my mama taught me believe in the self. Then you won’t need all the wealth. ‘Cause whatever you sell is just a shell of your self. You’re tryna elevate it to the store shelf for the pocket health and using pesos to pay for souls. Guess we’re sowing seeds of greed to grow. In the garden of Eden, kiddies are starving not eating, clocked and boxed in. Mohammed Ali-ing, Me I been weakening, reeking of weed, and needing the heaving and breathe and heeding the reasons to see the demons are shrieking and beat and evening meets the meaning of sleep and we can just breathe and see that we’re real. If I could breathe I would see that I’m real. If I could breathe I would see that I’m real. But it’s hard to oxidize the thoughts and lies.

about

This album was made after spending too much time alone in 2015.
soundcloud.com/robinchakra
facebook.com/robinchakra

credits

released March 2, 2016

Self-written & self-produced
Mixed & mastered by Daniel Babai (soundcloud.com/dephrase)
Album cover by Joseph Eusebio

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Robin Chakra Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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