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DON QUIXOTE'S LANCE

by M34N STR33T

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  • 34 PAGES OF LYRICS AND SONG ILLUSTRATIONS.
    14 TRACKS ON SCREEN-PRINTED DISC INCLUDED.
    QUALITY RISOGRAPH PRINTING BY ODDITIES PRINTS.
    LIMTED TO 100 SECOND EDITION BOOKS.

    An audio book of raps and chivalry, of dragons and princesses, of foreign lands and portals to the unknown."-M34N STR33T

    Includes unlimited streaming of DON QUIXOTE'S LANCE via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days
    edition of 100 

      $13 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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1.
PREH34T 01:55
2.
A pretty sky set the morbid match alight. Prayer candle for why, this city like to get high. By the batch of roses and mucus, statutory rape pass as amusement, it’s her ass for this five. Its that 365, 24/7, 60 minutes of Heaven, mother fucker I know your hell is bright. It’s lighting the city, there’s no enlightenment, no not when writing they fifty, fucking and fighting for kitty. A Long time ago, city still didn’t know the dance, white man prey prudent but got watch their hands. Find their heads on the gates of Heaven. Beware the beholder hold the method, before you fold lose the gold and grip the shepherd. Watch the sheep graze before the motive, more important, less is more and more is cocaine Colton. “Rocky Loves Emily” Still fuck your face and don’t dig the scam. Crab apples suck to eat, so why pick or jam? This piece for peace so don’t tell the man. I wrote another book last week, I’m geek, so know this jam! So know this jam yall! Yellow Butterflies in the Sky! It’s the book of scams, bed bugs in public housing. Crooks that can, white collars cook books that look undoubting. I’m on the mound pitching pounds, why my boy’s babys crowning, birthed a butterball ham, 8 lbs, but who’s counting? We on the back burners getting love, Flipping birds and burgers bub, passing turds that heard of us. We the herd murders, weed worker merk ya verb burglars. Re-work your perch bird, slurp berch, berp dirt. Big kids capping captain not worth a word, word?!?!
3.
ANTSY 02:00
“M34N STR33T” Last dance for candy. Cool kid class cancelled, can’t stand for standing. Move that ass like the ants in your pants be antsy! Conny want to change this. Conny don’t want to be famous. Conny want to potty on the A-list. Pele your anus, with some LA gears from Payless and today’s danish. Say it to the greatest, they took the cake with cadence, the took the book to bake the cake in. Wait, wait, why we waiting? The whole day’s pay is up for the taking. “M34N STR33T” Ain’t fucking around lately. James Bond you baby, James bound your lady, to a 60’s Mercedes, the color of gravy, doing a buck eighty. Let’s go... With a half hat on my head. I rap a riddle the bed to be a pedal, the pillow be a bike in the shed. Move from the bottom, middle and fled. Fuckers is feeble, feeble fuckers can be friends. I move the schmucks the smut they trend. Kick a butt with a pen or a kick, like a button send. I piece two nuts on your heads, be too nuts for your heads, like he too tough with flem. Easy, one taste enough to change em, enough with the arrangement, she left where the game went. That’s where the change is, we the aimless angels sangin, “Susy booty banging!”. We don’t want to be a wanna be, we want to see life. We don’t want be a wanna be, that want to be liked. We don’t want to be a wanna be, we want to see life. We don’t want be a wanna be, that want to be liked. Fucker.
4.
COURTHOUSE 4 02:15
I’ve spent my days bottom of the bucket bitching bored. I got a lot of hate for, bunch of bitches bitching more. I got a lot to say, whatcha fishing for? Ate the fish and the chips, now I’m about to shit the fort. Skate switch, switch flip the Courthouse 4. Escape rich, move mom to Ridgemount poor. Move mom’s mom to sixty six feet from shore. So she can see the choral and the ocean’s fluorescent floor. Fantastic plastic, fence flaccid, man backed core. Fanny packed with candy, crack, and chores. Matter the fact, this raps like Manny back batting, plates packed, yo stakes staked on 4th. Let me open you up and throw some rocks in. Roseanne on the stupid box with Dan boxing. Cool it chocolate, watch the kid fill the dots in. On my dogs shit, I owe the earth the gods watching. School can’t stand the ox plan. Put me in the old school spot next grandpops and Pac jams. Like grands for knots for K-Dot fans, like you can be hot, but you not fam. Brands been bought and tossed, scams. Lamb’s legs been cut too, too short to walk, yams. From the stance of Uncle Sam’s cans I pull my stool to too cool, two boobs, and watch sand. Yep, the ocean can be prettier than you. Especially with a few dookie doobies, on violently high duty, watching white booty, turn tan booty, turn black booty, who’s booty cuter than you!
5.
I won’t forget what I did on the city bus. Push the 15 east to where the city was. Rode it til I was inside her. We were all there hard workers, integrity, and liars. School teachers, fire sellers, and fire fighters, scars, unemployment that was looking for hire. Waiters, bartenders, ladies who pack dryers, businessman rode the 98 scared to retire. I seen you daddy, leaving UP. The cityscape escape you g, that’s too bad you see. We rode it for 1.25 plus ten cents plus transfer, from Kool-Aid cans to giving plasma, it’s real! 18 north, 7 South, 11 up Saint Mary’s mouth to Leavenworth route. Yo, I’ve been rapping about you for a long time, wonder if those same drivers still pushing them same lines. Wondering if they saved it, 20 an hour. Remember o boy drove his niece Sara, dropped her in front of the Towers. Peace to sweet cheeks and cowards, familiar faces, Chrissy, and the brother Showers. Life in transit it was ours…
6.
Mutant mountain, mountain of truth, youth fountain shouting you, shouting you owe me 8 dollars don’t you. 8 bucks I’m counting you’s a countess of “Ooo”. Them 16 bars meant a lot around my avenue. Could’ve bought you a pretty bridge to walk through, could've learned to re-rock, re-rock til snot oozed. Could’ve built you a box to shit and talk through. I was on top of the world with two tacos I copped new. Now I stomp this pot my piss sought, I’m not old as dis pops with kids and a wristwatch. Risk it all for this bitch, hope this chick forgive and give lots of hugs. Or throw fits with fits and flip off my love. Baby don’t forget the city while I’m dying, whole head filled with lions, whole head filled with iron. Baby don’t forget the city while I’m crying, whole dead filled with liars, whole head filled with clients. Baby don’t forget the city while I’m dying, whole head filled with lions, whole head filled with iron. Baby don’t forget the city while I’m lying, underneath the pale moonlight… Cripples crawl city blocks. My doggy piss, where wonky chicks divy cock. That’s city talk my g. I’m focused on my family, my family focused on me. Some of the fam hope is less important to potency of weed. We’d be a lot more open to komodo dragon, dragging its feet. Rather than motorboat, paddywagon, braggin you geeked. On my mother, your aunt Patty. I’m sad as I speak, mad as a bastard that be rapping this piece. I’ve racked, I’ve sniffed, yo I’ve bagged it up. I’ve seen meth smoked, cracked cooked, and sat in bluffs. I’ve macked, I’ve lacked, yo I’ve wrapped it up. No babies yet, but yo young baby face coming up! Baby don’t forget the city while I’m dying, whole head filled with lions, whole head filled with iron. Baby don’t forget the city while I’m crying, whole dead filled with liars, whole head filled with clients. Baby don’t forget the city while I’m dying, whole head filled with lions, whole head filled with iron. Baby don’t forget the city while I’m lying, underneath the pale moonlight…
7.
CAPER 02:30
We could of spent a summer in Spain dancing close to rose bushes. Instead we spent enough love on pain and what the boat pushes. Through Hade’s motes bushes, the hope douches on any rope to claim on why my quotes smoke kushes, I don’t know. Could’ve spent half a day listening to Donny Hathaway. Could’ve caught a cab to a bottle of cabernet. Could’ve called it a day in fact we didn’t, couldn’t stop falling in love past the jargon they give it. We was moving past the flute players. Past the pastures of fruit of puke flavors. Soon to loop around to the foolish figs that split truth to two favors, you shoot shit, I do not, I am cute when I do anger. Beighbor, why become mute, if it new to you, blame her. Hate more than the bluest eyes of the hue savior. In due time, dood do what you want, but do not deny, you shape her, you gotta eat that caper!
8.
CHINGA 02:14
One for a lost cause, 2 for forgiveness, 3 for regret, 4 for the faithful friends who fucked and found solitude where they slept, 5 checks away from making kids, 6 seconds from death, 7 steps to heaven I walk with an eyeball jacket around my neck. Fuck you. I’m a piece of shit of shit that fall in love with girly’s eyeballs. Slurring with Dorito lips, I said, you said, “That I’d call”. Don’t believe a god damn thing. My relief in you, you believe, I know. I found a fucking world girl. You can leave your pearl in idle, let’s go! Dead flowers and fairy tales. Cowards and Kerry’s nails. Hours and hours, hours and hours. Ours were very frail. This music and bastard sons. Black magic and cocked cap guns. This music and your ass we’re one, this music and the ass are done. Fuck you.
9.
D'ASS R34LM 01:00
10.
DRAGON 03:00
Last week I lost my mind but found it back at the cross. Crossroads connection, let me lecture your boss, bet your bishop, he tossed, bet your bish she a gosh. I got ya, getcha, let ya pitch a fit in a fort. Hope your sister wil (delete) find a mister that will miss her support. I meant a mister that forget her, sip her liquor. She forgot him, moved to a city, that’s bigger than hers. I got bigger sister sitting on a bigger rapport. I gotta quit drinking so I can fill in her shorts. Whatcha make of magic, when you never made magic the score? Whatcha make of magic, when you never rode dragons before? I ride for my city like a 454, Chevy block, drop top, pretty god… The city slept, days of my demon’s depths. Steady hand, shake his shaky hands. Wake his plans with kitty breath. 50 bags for fifty cats, can’t kid you that. But I can give you this rap that ridicules riddles of middle class. Push this pimple, let it pop at you. Pussy you pop ass it’s not simple. Put your needle on the record. “Quarter on the needle head” Put your money on what you needed fed. Whatcha make of magic, when you never made magic the score? Whatcha make of magic, when you never rode dragons before? I ride for my city like a 454, Chevy block, drop top, pretty god… For the youngins sipping and swearing, piffin and blaring, dipping in Karen. I got a tip for you Aaron. Better, listen to the kid that god fearin’, god wearing no Gucci belt, god wearing the mind of two parent’s hell. Forgive this felt feeling Phil, forgive this rhyme, 4X4 rhythm shelled. Find me at the beach dealin’ well, still in health. Stealing rays from the Sol til my soul steering sails! Whatcha make of magic, when you never made magic the score? Whatcha make of magic, when you never rode dragons before? I ride for my city like a 454, Chevy block, drop top, pretty god…
11.
12.
And that’s what happen when betty get fucked on the bandwagon. Whole mouth full of head. Jacking 8 styles, all her eggs in one breadbasket. For an even eight she believe the cool, date fuck her. Leave her til her makeups made up and face pucker. She pay, he eat and beat the cakes, butter. Say grace, she away from supper. Satan’s face say something. This is babes bathed in waste like, bacon in the oven baking, banking on how it ain’t gone get ate for nothing. She play two shades of grey, then Al Green and Miles Davis save the day. When she cut short, her shorts cut off like tearaways. Cut off like my girl **** in the day. Tarot card read error, arrow to your ace, who need the cake?
13.
TRECEAVO 01:30
14.
(Read Neruda like she told me to)

about

Release thy body from the chains of gravity and fly away with the boys from M34N STR33T. Don Quixote’s Lance is a pilgrimage through sound and space. Hanging onto the neck of hummingbird, travel at light speed to destinations sacred to thought. Feel the current of Hades in your armpits (your hair), lose your breath beneath its foreign vocation. Try not to hold onto the fairytales of your childhood’s remembrance. Seek the holy mountain whom rejected and then embodied the colonial god. Smell the scent of consequential advances and see the failure of the heart’s ability to acknowledge suffering. This is not a dream but a journey. Wonder far from the trail, for the river will lead you back to the summit. Live again with the death as a friendly reminder that erosion is the constant. Don Quixote’s Lance is an offering. It is time to digest the universe.

credits

released April 13, 2018

Created by M34N STR33T
Produced by Haunted Gauntlet
Lyrics by Conny Franko
Features by Christine Fink (track 2 & 3), Amanda Gibbons (Track 7) & Black Jonny Quest (Track 12).
Recorded in Gifford Park in Midtown Omaha 2013-18
Mixed and Mastered by Rick Carson
with assistance from Connor Murray at Make Believe Studios

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M34N STR33T Omaha, Nebraska

M34N STR33T is a two-piece – composed of producer Haunted Gauntlet and emcee Conny Franko – pushing themselves in new directions lyrically and musically. Verses exploring themes of joy, loss, and rage glide and jab over a sonic landscape that references and reassembles the sounds of the times. ... more

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