It’s a 12-song tribute to the father who passed away when the Chicago-born and raised rapper was just three years old—the rare shout into the existential abyss that actually receives answers echoing back.
It’s a coming-of-age story rooted in life, death, and legacy. It reminds us how the dearly departed can leave behind an indelible light.
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I used to dream about whippin a Mercedes,
2 kids with the model type lady,
we had it all
even the government paid me,
to make the world a better place on the daily
see their dreams we just stuff in a prp with no light
and expect the s*** to burn without a higher minds
and that's real,
real early oceans with no seals,
bodies with no pills,
and cities that never heal,
Life’s like
peep the cliff around the next turn,
but you ain't drivin,
end up in an urn what you done earned,
ain't vibin,
concede the paper chase aint a race most thrive in,
except if your scientist be jivin
right now,
it's a struggle to be glad,
for what you're worth is,
worthless,
even though my soul knows it’s purpose,
to turn these words into a movement that's really work shit
worth shit…
but maybe baby,
if I was born in the eighties,
I’d be less lazy and a little more crazy,
wonder about the youth on the daily
you see cuz we slidin in like our golf game was Daley,
littered with laughs like when Stewart left The Daily
but s*** ain't funny when your motive is the money,
it would kill your fellow man for their milk and honey,
kill your fellow men for their milk and honey
Chorus
and that's real,
realer than oceans with no seals,
bodies with no pills,
cities that never heal,
and that's real, and that's real
and that's real,
realer than oceans with no seals,
bodies with no pills,
cities that never heal,
and that's real, and that's real
truth be told I don't even like milk,
lactose to the folks who barter debt for nice silk,
of the ilk called the overachievers
slinging cleavers of meat,
at bare feet of the richest of leaders,
you see,
i'm the Prince and Pauper of the land of rap ether,
got funk like Aretha,
deft words like a teacher,
yet this n**** swore to God he wouldn't become a preacher,
now I'm preaching about teachings i dun picked up on the weekend?
i’m weak then...
cuz she taste good as some Wheat Thins,
spilling these crumbs on her sequin,
f****** to The Weeknd,
but the poor still don't eat then,
I guess the first world probs,
drown out the second and third,
I reckon my words,
would lessen the pain,
of hitting the curb,
because your horse was kind of high though,
like the kind of high if I got to work with Flylo,
like the kind of high is my first name was Michael,
and hit a shot on Craig Ehlo despite the height though,
despite natural spite i think us aight tho,
from some hieghts our noose is from a tight rope
and that's real,
realer than oceans with no seals,
bodies with no pills,
cities that never heal,
and that's real, and that's real
and that's real,
realer than oceans with no seals,
bodies with no pills,
cities that never heal,
and that's real, and that's real
credits
from For Mark, Your Son,
released August 12, 2016
produced by D Funk
mixed by Phen
mastered by Eric Morgeson @ Studio A
As soon as I heard the song Like Really I just had to buy the album. Then I finished listening to all the songs, and knew I made a good choice. Oddisee is one of the best hip hop artists on bandcamp. Devin Anderson
Hella Personal, regardless of your experience, there are a multitude of tracks that speaks both generally and specifically to the human experience.
Writ large, it's a post-modern microcosm of being human.
Writ small, it's a vibe tmomonet
