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Mperfect

by Wolf Windblade

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1.
Meds remix ft. Lex Boogie from the Bronx 03:51
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(chant) 2x My brain seeping again Seeing loss grieving again Keep breathing and bend Key to revolution of the mind is meditation Wolf: Look up the word Noosphere Then create a sacred atmosphere to sink into your mind with no fear Where the dimensions of time disappear This is how you find your third ear The ability to unwind the binding lines that connect you to worry, inadequacy, gravity endless tears, Hopelessness, anxiety Be open to this suggestion…hypnosis (Sing) those emotional heirlooms, the ego the boisterous rhymes we herald, the bullshit yammer into purposelessness. Embedded in you now leave with no effort effortlessly, effervescently, rising to the surface. Crushed into the dust of worthlessness Transfigured into pearls of Ethereum, Coins made of quantum to be cashed at the auction of anterior At the center of your cranium is…. Freedom ))) Now a word from our sponsor the young upstart Wolf Windblade Boog: This is elevation, levitation, meditation Live from Lexingon station with Wolf in the basement The sage is adjacent blow smoke in your face shiiiit Divine order, we ain't worried about placements You can get replaced quick in the garden the air's thick The Humidity will get you sick cause you're a weak bitch Wolf told me to relax, he trying to meditate, but i be on that planet of the apes for them dinner plates. Had to build with Boon he told me "Lex better play it safe, the watchers be watchin' and they can pull up any day. Ultra violet rays wen we look at the stars and gaze Dogon wave peep the future from back in the days This my medication it gets me through no hesitation we build the nation Iron locust coalation, coalition, man listen learn to fish and build pyramids with my niggas
2.
Miggacentric Centrifugal False (ft. Assatta Shakur) 03:30
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If youth culture is the tip of the spear Do not allow it to be captured or oust it as an outcast Shout out to the outcasts! Uphold the outcasts! Fuck your white masks! (Assatta speaks) First, don’t nobody wanna see your ass I don’t give a fuck if its cool or a fad Purses, When did men become fags? When yall let that lil nigga kiss his dad. Truth, that’s when the bad became really bad We already had a shortage of good dads What the problem is yall give a pass to any rich muhfukka that pays cash that’s sad, hoe niggas give up ass before they doin the math, racing to the bag diagnosis, paralysis amongst the hopeless a sheepherder’s dream, the psychology of psychosis the shepherds of showbusiness, cast a net and hires puppets actors, channelers, narcissists captures them, employs the lowest, most violent, alpha soldiers hired by the landlord’s land owners Those who hold the code but not knowing, under contract under concrete, under the hoof of the tall hats under windshield wiper type hypnosis, frozen ghosts of the gold ones thumbing through your phone like a cyber puppet drone enter your home and put your VR goggles on mask on your mouth plugs in your nose hole in your head, NEEDLE in your arm the scrolling living dead, a rolling writhing head body in the bed, twerking on some meds jerking into rest, soul is a fish turning into mist, sucked inside the l.e.d Niggacentric Centrifugal False
3.
M.D.90 03:19
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This weekly journey lasting approximately 6-7 hours roundtrip to Queens New York would often have me miss public transportation and walking home from Newark Penn station seemed to be a dark initiation unto itself. M.D. 90 tomoe uachet, the pure heart of the warrior , the seeking of truth and the illuminated path on the road of devils. Act 1 *Walkin through the streets of Newark New Jersey From Newark to East Orange, my heart is the target The police out guarding rolling slow and barking Lights patrolling followed by a siren (sfx) I stay to the shadows with my clutch on my arrows Might dip in an alley Hear the howls of the valley Sounds out the cavity Some-things feeling off to me Act 2 Talk if you wish, 94 darts, will spark from the hip Era of the Camouflage pre rap glitz, my art still drenched in the grate of the fence The snag of the metal and the cold night wind A bag makes a crackle eats a second of my attention Focus! Act 3 It’s half past 12 streaming past the bus stop Empty compartment blocking my eyesight Cross into the street, ambush insight, Always predict, where a nigga just might Blunt smoke, dope fiends hunched under lamp lights Sky grey cloudy, streaks a silent searchlight Antennae’s high, cobra kai Kushite, eye of Itachi My headband is pulled tight Act 4 Eyes of the scarecrow, lend me your hollow To ghost past the winos cursing in echos Their spitting and biting and joke covered sorrow Looks like damage on the field of tomorrow Next block’s horror a solo hoe barters Her body for a dollar and hops in the car of A man who looks like his hope’s all dried up his thrills unfulfilled, Void of honor! Act 5 a Garbage truck pulls up The scent of funk, sounds of crush Street sweeper coming up I’m Double deaf just my luck A pack of dogs cut in front The leader lunges fuckin mutt I cock my foot let it punt Doggy screams, the others run I watch him land in front a bus It Swerves and adjusts Hits the curb That’s my word to the tough Steel toe that I buffed the night before I’ve had enough Muscle up, run a mile Kayoken adrenalin 8 blocks and counting down Running til I’m out of wind (Wolf makes it home safe)
4.
MIPHONES 02:15
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These kids got a nice home, sitting all alone scoliosis in the neckbone, eyeballs in a bright glow, ensnared by their iphones Why the baby got a tablet, what a habit, stupid ass parents, smack u in the dome ...put away your iphone You got a pencil and a pen, piece of paper, slice of pizza rather smoke on that GMO reefer, write a goddamn poem...instead of being on your iPhone New sneakers, new song, buncha apps, twitter fingers your life is a phoney baloney Can't put away your iPhone, put away your iPhone ZOMBIE (8x) So your on a business trip on the flight home, plane gets hit by a cyclone, while u tappin on your iPhone You should’ve put away your iPhone
5.
MY 70s 04:13
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I was a hazy golden baby Brow is on frown black dot on his toe Soul’s a bit tardy rushes in at the throw of a hand slapping pamper @ 1 years old Is when my momma stopped… carrying me. She said I was too heavy by the age of 3 walking pigeon toed to the barbers hold screaming like a demon they tryna cut my fro i had to look the part of that NOI sharp “they cuttin my anntenaes, this earth is so cooold” My father paints the canvas of Elijahs portrait pose I bumped my mother’s knees while shes cookin at the stove the water scalding hot jumped out the pot burns my left shoulder the scar’s a swollen bulge reminder of the pain I find hard to let go. For those in the know man made ghettos are eco-socio plans of control Life is Like Neo on the phone ducking low Hello Morpheus, where shall I go? ( Morpheus to Neo) So the Late 70’s I was old enough to start runnin through the streets, well, really round the block Parents need some peace so we get released straight across the street…into Rowley park (Young Bleek & nem) So Imagine gangs of children darting back and forth up fire escapes and under parked cars. Eating park lunches, swinging on a horse Spinning merry-gos and jumping off to barf. Stopping elevators before they reach their floor, squeezing thru the opening and crawling on the floor Throwing eggs at buses on the bumper holding on Leaping roof to roof, yo Spider-man is coming on back at the apartment comic book reading or watching cartoons, Snagglepuss even. ( Bonez Malone)

about

Hip Hop is what they called the culture of young folk in the 70's and 80's who were of the tradition of rhymes over breakbeats and samples. They naturally fed from the inspiration of their lineage in recorded history. Soul-music coralled and packaged by demonoid businesseers.

It started as creativity to redirect the angst of too few resources and skirmishes of gang violence. It became party music/ ritual in hope to uplift and inspire. Once capitalist America's businesseers dug in it's claws it became a newer version of smallpox blankets.

Authentic moments of honesty and rebellion always ended in a questionable rerouting.

It got to the point where the lines of fame, fantasy, aim and anarchy blurred.

By the late 90's it was an artform straddling the fence in morals due to the ongoing struggle to climb out of poverty. The businesseers designed it to be a highly profitable meat market.

Enter the musical hunger games. The lowest, most uneducated and brilliantly talented got a chance to say any ol' mundane thing eloquently to masses. Supported by filmakers and sound engineers for maximum Star effect. These same 'Stars' were poverty afflicted and retained their initial trauma, addictions and sicknesses. Afforded gold chains and new fabric they fooled themselves into a deeper sleepwalk.

When kids teach kids this is the mess they make. From ill toTrap(ped) to Drill to Kill(ed).

Look at us now.

Frozen boys and girls trapped in looping barbed wire. Stillwater niggarisms streak into the metaverse like meteor asscheeks.
Scalped and spread like gold platinum whores fucked publicly. Ratchetized, Independent and entrepeneurs into the future.

Legends with no life insurance.

Imagine the morphing beast finding it's roots back to it's central language. Standing up and barking a calm cleanse. Shifting into an owl and then into a man.
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~Elihu Adofo Bey is an illustrator, writer and embellisher of mythos. His paintings aren't limited to canvas. They've leaked into sound form of his youth culture and processed through elderhood.
M for mature.

In the cacophany of yottabytes where insanity is the normal tattooed arterie. He dares to simply b-boy as MAN.

Listen
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Shout outs:
None of this would be possible without Lex Boogie from the Bronx. I’m forever grateful. You are a living legend my friend. Thanks for prompting me to my personal greatness and thanks for smacking the grim reaper to share this M moment with me. As you know it's a big deal.

The catalyst and culmination to cultivating my inner director, engineer, architect, writer etc. Lex is the living example of a highly production machine. Seeing him and getting granules from behind the curtain allowed me to tap in and focus.

Biggest thanks to Kazembe & Lukata (Queens fam) for their lifetime support in the highest of principles of unity and brotherhood. Through them i understand Nile River creativity, boundlessness and the sacred time to develop godhood.

Mucho GRACIAs to Marlene Feliz who supplied me with a competent pair of headphones, kisses on my palms, shared meals of comradery, respectful talks and kindness.
Your divine womanhood powered the intervals that i used to labor through countless hours of tutorials, mixing and mastering to bring this work to the best homemade quality possible.

Thanks to me for being a genius and creating in plain sight amidst mediocre ears and eyes of the blind, deaf and dumb. Most don't see potential and hence we all lose another star's guidance in the sky.

The poverty mentality of valuelessness that came with being born a foundational black american can find another host. I've consistently and purposely worked my way away from all Miggacentric Centrifugal Falsehoods.

Production: Lex Boogie
Concepts, Mixing, Vocals: Mantat aka Mountain Wolf Windblade
Album art: Adofo Illustrations

credits

released December 24, 2022

produced mixed and mastered by Lex Boogie from the Bronx

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Wolf Windblade Queens, New York

Hi, I'm better known as Adofo, but when I hang out with Lex Boogie from the Bronx I become a sonic hero called Mountain Wolf Windblade.
I kick people in the facemasks and eat sun chips incessantly.

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