Hearing A Truth Serum

by Andrew Huang

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credits

released July 20, 2011

Written, recorded and produced by Andrew Huang.

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Andrew Huang Toronto, Ontario

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Track Name: Unsigned
i'm not signed to record label, unless you count
when i put my name on my vinyl 'cause i'm lending it out
still on the internet i'm bigger than kahuna
and sometimes make it deeper than flawed scuba
heads ask how i can rap for so long without breathing
the trick is my oblong medulla
forget cheddar man, i got gouda
stocked through the shelves this week
because i shopped sooner
and found the deals on prunes and raw tuna
helping with my cents like guitar tuners
helping with my scents like not going to perfumers
some stranger miss spraying my wrist with a flavored mist?
buddy i call that dangerous
i'd rather let my pheromones dart through
yo, welcome to the terrordome, part 2
but my enemies are private, independent
unsigned like me, except i think it's splendid
suburban kids spitting gangster buffoonery
won't hone their rap craft, they only write eulogies
meanwhile i'm turning parties into jubilees
hot enough to change the temperature by two degrees
centigrade, and it's way sweeter
when i do it without the help of my space heater
bring it on a spaceship drive-by
with eyes wide shunned in favor of 2001
so-called "hot" crossovers rock talcum-y buns
i'm dropping five albums a month
i'm unsigned

i had contract from vh1, basically saying
"if you sell us your soul, you could be great, son"
and i'd already wrote them tunes, never got a dime
so there's no way my name would end up on that dotted line
though i'm hype with a pen, striking again
like a teacher's union with a vicodin bent
but for me fine art is the antidote
i don't just get on the mic, i get on the michaelangelo
i wanna make the whole world sing, like manilow
there's a breeze like the manitob- so let your banners blow
the grannies know how the anthem goes
and if they can't or don't we crush them like a can of coke
i wrote that to fuel all the oil fleets
so if you boycott, i can't collect the royalties
that's a fun time, imagining i spun dimes off of one rhyme
no punch in punch out just punchlines
vacay come find us getting our skin sundried
not true, i do this hungrier than lunch time
'cause you know i like it unsigned
Track Name: 1-Up
bump it, bump it, tracks in the hundreds
unblitzed, don't know how to act like i've done this
size up this vibe's one fits all
won't deny you, i know withdrawal
you wanna talk about how i do it
just a part of my self improvement
these dogs never learn those new tricks
gotta push forward with my music

always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)

princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha
princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha

you get high, she goes higher
you let sparks fly, she sets the fire
you got buzz and she got smashed
you got good luck but she got cash
you got a story, she got the glory
you like hard rock, she was at the quarry
you make ends meet, she makes them do lunch
you almost got enough, she got too much

always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)

princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha
princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha

make me think less
these rules these drinks that i ingest
can't invest
can't resist resist this thin dress
so my mouth is running, i'm trying to impress
human nature, learned behavior
code of conduct to turn away from any of this trouble
but others persist
and burst the bubble of bliss
lovers in trysts always coming to this

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!
Track Name: Mass Appeal
let me kick it off/
like soccer baseball/
wait/ that makes me sound a little soft/
let me kick it up/ a notch/
picking up speed/
i can kick it like the jocks/
don't talk about sportsmanship/
i'm just more prolific without forcing it to shape/
from back in the day/ when if it was too short/
you had to flip the tape/
press record and press play/
formed the best ways/
to set chords and let blaze/
a torrent of blessed craze/
dividers fell/ before the stress came/
developed my intel/ to deal with these clientele/
i collect-without trying to sell/
but sometimes these invoices stay unpaid/
for a few days/ which turns to one week/
which turns to monthly ignored reminders/
i'm hungry/ cut me the cheque from your binder/
you wanted to see some sweat/ i played a blinder/
captured by the viewfinder/
this is my daily/ i'm the sharpest grinder/
bloom like a daffodil for a crowded bill
talk to my catholic friends, i got mass appeal
so let me do this one about my rapping skill
with paper and ribbon you couldn't be half as ill

hey, let me do this right, hey


let me cook up something with a crunch/
kitchen to myself/ all these other producers are out to lunch/
talking about cheese/ but i'm a chef devout/
so knives out/ now catch the mouse/
i throw a candy rapper in the garbage/
who's all about trees/ like i'm up against a partridge/
trouble gets started/ when he's at the bar fridge/
but his ink's worse than my bubblejet cartridge/
you got a swift ride/ i'm long-lasting/
with more edge than your fingers on the cliffside/
so hands up/ lift high/
spit rhymes hotter than the lit side of your spliff, guy/
still coveting/ while you're plummeting/
and i'm reaching more heights than the summit brings/
amateurs get damaged worse/
better be bandaged/
i put your cheddar in a sandwich/
Track Name: Nostalgia
if i were a kid, still
dreaming up scheming up
ways of beaming up casts of television
into these attics
limited edition action figurines of plastic
giving me some spastic play time
i'm in the basement
i'm doing backflips
i'm in a park jurassic
growing up in the nineties
defined me as an alternative kid
my clothes shiny
hair dishevelled
i revelled in the infinite sadness
teen rebel
angst filling up the bass to the treble
a few green leaves in the kettle
wasn't 'til my twenties that i really settled
a bit of me always jittery
epitome of the awkward songster
mind a monster
recalling my ex-girl
written these songs full of acidity
when i lost her bitterly, no

but if i could go back, i wouldn't
even shouldn't
life wasn't meant to be perfect
but we put it in a box
could it be that the categories
that we scatter with ease
pass/fail/win/lose/shatter/appease
have been plaguing us since like adam and eve
how much do my regrets really matter to me
they all say we can learn from the mistakes
but so many people would rather see them erased
i'm leaving a trace of where i came from
what i've made, done, destroyed
the blame sometimes stings
but i have to rise above the noise
'cause there are more important things than the past to wallow in
a pill that too many are not swallowing
sometimes you have to hang up and never call again
looking at life now
you know what they say about all that ends well
Track Name: 2-Wheeler
on my 2-wheeler/
souped up after seeing your parachute dealer/
free fall/ and hearing a truth serum/
i get the news clearer/
she's not the one for you/
as i hold the booze nearer/
it's not so much what i look like, but who's mirror/
smashed glass the battle collateral/ become animal/
fast cash for casual cattle to kick a half ass/
i pull through last laugh cul-de-sac bull's tombs/
holding back 'til i shoot a full moon/
a galaxy to make me the starry-eyed argyle barfly/
searching far and wide for the start line/
asking who's on our side/ a far cry/
from an archive of albums on a hard drive/
can't trace the sediments/ flush away the evidence/
i set the precedent/ my time to shine/
my time to make a mess of it/
every time i level up/ the devil struts by/
with a kettle, cup and saucer/
wanting to be boss or a friend or a doctor/
but i'm trying to get proper/
if i could foster better environments i might prosper/
rhyme royal like chaucer/ fly like a saucer/
everyone's an imposter when i'm the whole roster/
but sometimes i just don't bother/
Track Name: 1-Up (Subcon Mix)
bump it, bump it, tracks in the hundreds
unblitzed, don't know how to act like i've done this
size up this vibe's one fits all
won't deny you, i know withdrawal
you wanna talk about how i do it
just a part of my self improvement
these dogs never learn those new tricks
gotta push forward with my music

always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)

princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha
princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha

you get high, she goes higher
you let sparks fly, she sets the fire
you got buzz and she got smashed
you got good luck but she got cash
you got a story, she got the glory
you like hard rock, she was at the quarry
you make ends meet, she makes them do lunch
you almost got enough, she got too much

always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)
always gotta 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!) 1-up (what up!)

princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha
princess'll come into the room like woo like oh
princess'll come into the room like uh like ha

make me think less
these rules these drinks that i ingest
can't invest
can't resist resist this thin dress
so my mouth is running, i'm trying to impress
human nature, learned behavior
code of conduct to turn away from any of this trouble
but others persist
and burst the bubble of bliss
lovers in trysts always coming to this

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!

always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
always gotta 1-up
what up!
Track Name: Unsigned (Black Jasmine Mix)
i'm not signed to record label, unless you count
when i put my name on my vinyl 'cause i'm lending it out
still on the internet i'm bigger than kahuna
and sometimes make it deeper than flawed scuba
heads ask how i can rap for so long without breathing
the trick is my oblong medulla
forget cheddar man, i got gouda
stocked through the shelves this week
because i shopped sooner
and found the deals on prunes and raw tuna
helping with my cents like guitar tuners
helping with my scents like not going to perfumers
some stranger miss spraying my wrist with a flavored mist?
buddy i call that dangerous
i'd rather let my pheromones dart through
yo, welcome to the terrordome, part 2
but my enemies are private, independent
unsigned like me, except i think it's splendid
suburban kids spitting gangster buffoonery
won't hone their rap craft, they only write eulogies
meanwhile i'm turning parties into jubilees
hot enough to change the temperature by two degrees
centigrade, and it's way sweeter
when i do it without the help of my space heater
bring it on a spaceship drive-by
with eyes wide shunned in favor of 2001
so-called "hot" crossovers rock talcum-y buns
i'm dropping five albums a month
i'm unsigned

i had contract from vh1, basically saying
"if you sell us your soul, you could be great, son"
and i'd already wrote them tunes, never got a dime
so there's no way my name would end up on that dotted line
though i'm hype with a pen, striking again
like a teacher's union with a vicodin bent
but for me fine art is the antidote
i don't just get on the mic, i get on the michaelangelo
i wanna make the whole world sing, like manilow
there's a breeze like the manitob- so let your banners blow
the grannies know how the anthem goes
and if they can't or don't we crush them like a can of coke
i wrote that to fuel all the oil fleets
so if you boycott, i can't collect the royalties
that's a fun time, imagining i spun dimes off of one rhyme
no punch in punch out just punchlines
vacay come find us getting our skin sundried
not true, i do this hungrier than lunch time
'cause you know i like it unsigned