Get all 42 88 Diagrams releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Waifu Bath Salts 2, ;(, BLOODTYPE, a weird ghost story (ft. Cold Sweat, GOOOSE & missingno.), Bitches Brew (Yandere 2), HELLFIRE (ft. Disthoughts & Jagara), Haruhi EP, FLOWERS OF EVIL, and 34 more.
1. |
Long Story Short...
01:29
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2. |
Relics
01:49
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3. |
Shibuya
02:13
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4. |
Fade
01:52
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5. |
Cruising
01:46
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7. |
My Last Words
05:06
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8. |
RWBY2
01:06
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9. |
Rei Hino Freestyle
02:06
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10. |
Serendipity
01:52
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Serendipity, haven’t had this feel for a century,
Reality blocked by the comfort of lucidity.
Build in vicinity, safe in my mystery,
Secluding me, sigh away stress like its chemistry.
Let the history, calm my nerves with the sunlight,
Highlife, feel melancholy from the dead of night.
Limelight, stand still staying out of sight,
As I channel inner peace and recover for the next fight.
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11. |
Relics 2.0
01:52
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(Verse):
Paint these relics to reminisce on the past,
As father time faints from the shards of thee hourglass
Hold the flask, yellow poppy flowers and roses,
Cultures clash, final hours become a magnum opus,
Starry nights till he reaches eternity’s gate,
Cypresses symbolize internal conflicts when he Isolates,
Ignoring the Intake, breakdowns, cry A1one,
Mural hijacks, le camera stylo with Krylon,
A lonesome cowboy that trivialize graduation,
3-meter girls, market for satisfaction, (sex sells)
Hollywood africans, crossed out, given attention,
7 sketched stars to a boxer rebellion,
Panavision, fields of lights, what's right,
I want to be your love, oh please hold me tight,
But only god knows, conflicted neon photography,
Like fighting fowls, disconnected strains like it’s Jung Lee,
(Chorus):
Painted colors on the skin,
Mesmerized by the pen.
A canvas for the craft,
Scrapped projects in the bin.
Captured genius just to spray,
Oil, water and clay.
Beauty from the hands,
That write rhymes everyday.
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12. |
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Lyrics:
88 Diagrams:
Mm… food, true doom banging beats with metal fingers,
Tape leechers, smack 12 year olds with V-Triggers.
Blockbusters, beatdowns like a fuckin Christmas miracle,
Run the jewels, count to fuck, stockings filled with lumps of coal.
Fist fights in middle school, call me Malcom,
YNGSN, MPCs are what determines the outcome.
With the knowledge of legends, Slick Rick to Aesop,
As I got more bars than Hmong gangs who got shot.
DisThoughts:
And I'm a young rapping Hot Shot like Eyedea
- R.I.P. - I'm D.I.S. Thoughts
I'm the type of guy who might deny that your waifu's nice
I'm just a regular knave who likes inciting flamewars
with no other discernible aim or gain asides from
maintaining quite unbelievably lame and idle fights
among these weebs until they weep so openly that you would think
that they'd just seen the ending scene in Grave of the Fireflies
(Break)
DisThoughts:
So get your fucking inane brain and your exceedingly likely spiteful
weirdass hide right astride Akira's cyber bike
now it's ride or die, fake or try, fear us, wear a cuirass
if you maybe like but stake your lives
and stay the fuck - inside the cypher guys!
You bleary-eyed bums are clearly too dumb to realize that lady luck you idolize
is done caring and she's really not a tsundere she just hates your guts
yeah, I'm an aging fuck; but rhyming-wise I'm an old scarey chess vet
88 Diagrams:
Five fingers of death with cold stares like Esdeath,
Spontaneously collect wasted potential you’ve invest.
I’m a mess, I’m a weeb that embraces the malaise,
So they wring what they fathom into a rusted old chalice.
With a morbid atonement, yanderes, higurashi,
As they gamble around graves with naruko and hopis.
Get busy, waifus feeling heat like Sean Paul,
Since the only thing you'll hear are cheat codes and phone calls.
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13. |
Mai-Chan
03:12
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Verse 1:
Bets off, running for your life, gotta get off,
Get caught, strapped like a kite, gotta set off.
Lay off, the shots, can’t do nothing with a glock,
Buried handcuffs and locks, as you feel the shock.
Surgical implants and spit, true rhymes we rip.
Purpose of a sex slave is to slice em all to bits.
Legit, it’s best start running at the encore,
Cause your life will end in seven days you fuckin (whore).
Hook:
Verse 2:
Two shots of blood for my bloodshot killer's,
Blew off their brains, with telepathic scanners.
Where are my manners, chainsaws and meathooks,
Hung by the leg, blood written notebook.
For the crooks, needing limbs for the collection,
Skin made lamp shades lit satisfaction.
Penetrate membranes, thats my true attraction,
Digging out the heart to sodomize my addiction.
What's missin? Salt and pepper for the grubhub,
Or a mixture of blood to lace up my own drugs.
What's up with that Thang, yo, how does it hang?
Top of the ceiling with a nooseneck wears it like bling.
Ka ching! Stole a kidney for that blood money,
Wayne Gacy and men in crawlspaces cause it's funny.
Mad Men who laugh while wearing neckties,
Whether purple or Colombian, a rat smiles when they lie.
Hook:
Verse 3:
Best to get out, get the flames out, mutherfucka’s on a leash,
so it's best to preach, whatever words conceived.
Eternal 99, bonesaws for the spine,
Mo’murda by thugs through a heartless crime.
With cum and blood dripping down their skin,
While witnessing friends being packed in bins.
Acid baths to cleanse, tainted evil so young,
Natural Killaz, Octagon, Mystik Stylez, Lynch Hung.
As it’s sung, till your vocal chords dry out the lungs,
It’s begun, chanting little games, it’s fun.
Number 1 & 2, we be coming for you,
And number 3 & more, you gotta walk all fours.
Amputees in cages, drugged up by shots,
So the only thing they feel is euphoria from the cock.
Euphoria from cuts, puked guts for dinner,
Valiant little young lambs juiced up by pain killers.
Hook:
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