YOUNG HEMS

by Taco Hemingway

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1.
2.
3.
01:48
4.
03:48
5.
02:49
6.
7.
03:18
8.

credits

released December 26, 2013

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Taco Hemingway Warsaw, Poland

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Track Name: Fuck Your List
Verse 1:
Right hand on the mic, my teeth crooked
I saw the spark up in your heart and then I took it
All the treasure under the see, I overlook it.
Then I take your fucking rhyme book apart so I can cook it
Look kid, don't you ever act stupid
I'll make you walk the sky like Team Rocket or Luke did
White trash, married the game and then I bruised it
Had a grammar book, but I losed it
I mean loosed it, lost it, anyway, I never used it
I don't like the proper things, Biggie on my crucifix
Like a kiddy in some skinny jeans, I got stupid fits
P.O. double L. A. C. K. You know who it is
When he in a room, then the room is his
When he slipped dick to a chick, all her tumors quit
He don't give a shit, what the rumour is
Him, Em, Hova, you've got two more picks
Is he serious? Just assume he is


Chorus:
Fuck your list, fuck your top 10
Fuck your YouTube arguments, "is it Kendrick or Em?"
Fuck your list, fuck your top 5
Fuck your internet fights, "is it Wu-Tang or Tribe?"
Fuck your list, fuck your top 3
Fuck your commentary spree, "is it Nas or Jay Z?"
Fuck your list, fuck your top one
I'm masturbating, I'm getting the job done

Verse 2:
Left hand on the mic, my eyes swollen
I feel kind of boring, I've had my style stolen
"Ring ring" goes the phone and you're asking who's calling
It's the Polish guy who loses his mind every morning
I'm the ace above four kings
Top 5. Wanted to fly, but they got sore wings
I'm Sinatra, showing class and watching whores swing
Your life is kind of like this beat, could use some more strings
Style obese, man, it couldn't have no more chins
I'm a unicorn, so stop betting on which horse wins
Doing the crudest porn, just to stack up even more sins
Ludicrous form, going since Filip was born 'till his corpse stinks
Heart beating so swift it broke ribs
Even though I'm dead, know the flow lives
I should be your favorite fucking thing, like the porn flick
With the cutie pie with rouge thighs, blue eyes and super-cool tits
Or the goldfish you loved just like your own kid
Who had to be thrown in the toilet bowl over some grown shit
Or the puppy you loved, who was your one friend
They took him to a farm and after that you never saw him
I'll break your heart like that event
Or the night you had to ask your Momma where Daddy went
I'm coming hard like your daddy's friend. You know?
The one who came over once or twice to cum right on your Daddy's bed?
Fuck your list


Chorus:
Fuck your list, fuck your top 10
Fuck your YouTube arguments, "is it Kendrick or Em?"
Fuck your list, fuck your top 5
Fuck your internet fights, "is it Wu-Tang or Tribe?"
Fuck your list, fuck your top 3
Fuck your commentary spree, "is it Nas or Jay Z?"
Fuck your list, fuck your top one
I'm masturbating, I'm getting the job done
Track Name: Listening to Arctic Monkeys
Verse 1:
Filip in this bitch like a hound barking super fast
Smoke rising up to the lungs from a hookah glass
Left hand, Red Stripe, like the 'Murican flag
Jacking the White out of your sight, making you super sad
Stranger than a nun who decided to wear skirts more
Smell the microphone like the dome of my first born
"Achy Breaky" Billy Ray, he told me I should twerk more
Emcees running out of bars you better call the jerk store
Or AT&T. Tell me your mates hate me
It's making me fairly angry, like - really? - why would you say it to me
I'm from Poland but the internet made me
Teeth fucked, though I haven't smoked cigarettes lately
This that new stuff, it sucks, let me bust a few
Lady Luck, I'm just being blunt, got a crush on you
Zero point seven per throat, just like the Russians do
Polish people too, I'm like Tevez, very emotional
Name's Filip. Last name unpronounceable
Mentally ill, I'm thinking 'bout what would House do
I do my own thing I bang some loud tunes
Police banging at my door like I wasn't allowed to

Chorus:
I was just listening to "Marvin's Room"
I was just listening to Arctic Monkeys
I was just listening to DANGERDOOM
But if you want, you can come in and fucking cuff me
X2

Verse 2:
Words shooting out like midgets from cannons
Shipping death, I'm on fire like I'm swimming for Stannis
I hit the water to cool off, take your chick to Atlantis
I ride some sea whores for a while, then I'm tickling salmons
That was a pussy joke, I'm kind of embarrassed
Rappers claiming they are Michael, fuck it, call me Maharis
Ain't his first language, dude is rapping with mad talent
Going hard at it, since he moved out of his dad's phallus, ugh
Let me bring it down a bit
Here I sit, couple buckets, 80 pounds of spit
I should send it to the healers, even, better the dealers
And I would measure it in liters but its kind of thick, you know.
I'm a Valleyman, sucking on mangos
Hemingway is that fucker always causing a scandal
Anyway, then I motherfucking buck'em like Django
Tell it straight, count two doors, then hop in the Lambo
I'm a goddamn dirty Pollack
Man I can't believe I'm drinking freaking coca cola
Went to Paris, that's the only reason Lisa is Mona
I drank red, then I passed out on the street corner
Woke up in London just to get my diploma
Actual Master of Science on THIS microphone
I'm back home play just to bump some fucking Kendrick, hol'up
Somebody's banging at my door, the neighbor's must've called up
Track Name: 22
I'm genocidal on this 22, I'm Rwanda
I'm a dude both Hutus and Tutsis are not fond of
Lazy for days, work nights, Mary Jane Fonda
You're in a line-up doing lines, while I do the Conga
Want beef, burger flipper, get devoured like food
I'm a retarded evil genius, using powers for good
A sip of brew when I wake up, then a Xanax at noon
I'm on some Drizzy Drake shit, singing out of the blue
Means I sing in the rain
So goddamn it, Sam, play it, Frank, sing it again
When I was 17 I used to pour my seed down the drain
Creating sewage monsters, sorry Dufresne
You'll never make it through the damn canal
See I'm the fucking Heisenberg, and you brats a Hal
Your style is foul and a tad banal
I am a walking mystery, call me a femme fatale
The good and evil in me cancel out
A rough gentleman, I come into a damsel's mouth
I'm dangerous like sitting down in Chris Hansen's house
The new thing on the radio, I'm throwing Lazlow out
I'm checking in, sipping gin, plenty brew and plenty doubt
I gotta finish cause it's 22, I'm checking out

Gotta go back, man, fuck a convention
I vomit with all the stuff that you suckers mention
Yeah, yeah, typical message: "no enough attention"
Every rapper thinks he's Biggie, Slim, L, Hova and then some
Throw me in jail, leave in a cell for nights
I do not like your God's work. I'll go to hell with pride
Don't understand me, not the motherfucking Mensa type?
Your gun's heavy? Well my pencil's light. End of fight.
Track Name: Blueberries
Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?)
Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?)
Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?)
Goddamn it, now. My name isn't Taco, you know, my name is Filip

Verse 1:
Sitting on a porch chair, today I just don't care
Grab my friend's phone, "hey, do you have any porn there"?
Overheard by female passerbys, there goes that long stare
Fuck ya'll bitches and glowing hair
Fuck your shoes and your gear, pierced boobs and your ears
Fuck your blues and your chop'n'screws and your rocking rolls
My genre is indie-folk-low-fi-post-weird
I'm beloved and ignored, most loved and most feared
I'm a white European boy, best believe it boy
So much "weird" in my lyrics that I'll never be employed
Latest ploy, rape Freud with a phallic-shaped toy
Ask him for analysis, while my phallus is showing
Never been rich or piss-poor. Is it wrong?
Always low self-esteem, like "what'd I get that kiss for?"
And then my ego exploded. Explode
Suddenly feeling like God when he's blowing his load
On the face of his favorite pope, screaming: "baby choke"
Then he's sucking on a blunt laced with his favorite dope
Screaming, quote: "Fuck Africa. I'm gonna leave'em broke
Whole world is a pile of fucking dirt, semen soaked"
(Goddamnit, now)
Oh, yes indeed. Funny how he never say these things in press release
I'm hungry. Not rap-wise, hungry for Lebanese
And instead saying grace, I will be resting in peace, goddamn it now


Chorus:
Goddamn it, now
I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now
Gimme me a trampoline, give me a tambourin
Red wine, blueberries and a gram of green
Goddamn it now. Goddamn it now
I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now
Gimme me a trampoline and a tambourin
Red wine blueberries and a gram of green
Goddamn it, now

Verse 2:
Young Hems, what the dealy?
My name isn't Taco, you know, my name is Filip
And I'm from a town that's been burned to the ground
That's why I'm never down, 'less you stab my achilles
I think I'm Big Meech and Bronsonelli
Fuck the crowd in the mouth, get your tonsils ready
I'm rocking Wilma's bed and locking jaws with Betty
I'm 'bout to spit the vomit on y'all. Mom's spaghetti
Invited to Biggie's house and his parties are heavy
I tried to carpool but I couldn't get my balls in the Chevy
I got there late but I still shook some hands and got me a bevy
And Biggie's asking me why I'm no longer rapping as FV
Because of Hopsin, I told him
Now I rapping with a name from FIFA manager mode
Oh, and I'm a Yiddo. Hungry like a hippo
Keep your lips closed, kid or I'll damage your folks
Party on, yeah, the bitches were big fun
But I'm in the kitchen eating freaking chicken with Big Pun
He wants the last piece, he's licking his damn teeth
I'm saying like "aight, peace", but I grab it and make a run
"Son, I beg your pardon!"
When I'm hungry I got Bronson fronting steak with garlic
Then we're having fondue or whatever you call it
I woke up in my apartment, a half-dead alcoholic

Bridge:
Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?)
X2

Chorus:
Goddamn it, now
I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now
Gimme me a trampoline, give me a tambourin
Red wine, blueberries and a gram of green
Goddamn it, now. Goddamn, it now
I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now
Gimme me a trampoline and a tambourin
Red wine blueberries and a gram of green

Outro:
Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?)
X3
And I'm from a town that's been burned to the ground
That's why I'm never down, 'less you stab my achilles
Track Name: Luck
Verse 1:
I'm the whitest black man, I'm the blackest white man
I'm inhaling grey smoke, it's chocking my lifespan
Red wine in my left, cigar in my right hand
Grab my chest. My heart's a jungle with ripe land
Watch him fight back. Leave them flabbergasted
Leaving green phlegm in your favorite rapper's casket
You know it's fantastic. Spit on the crowd. (That's sick.)
The raised hands make me mad, you got a question then ask it
Greedy narcissists; see them leaning now
Push them over the edge of the bank so I can see them drown
Spray my bitter seed right out the window, see my semen frown
Neighbours up my ass: "pal, you think you could keep it down?"
I don't know how. I'm just being weird, not being loud
And there's no way I can think of that I could tone the shit down
But fuck that, I'll do my best, not a peep or a sound
I make a serious face, tell the grim reaper "not now". Fuck


Chorus:
"All my life I've been considered as the worst
Lying to my mother, even stealing out her purse"
All my life i've been considered as a golden child
Mind is broken now, I try to tone it down, I don't know how
"All my life I've been considered as the worst
Lying to my mother, even stealing out her purse"
One of those occasions when a gift is a curse
"All my life I've been considered as the worst."

Verse 2:
Nah, that ain't true. I'm a good boy
I want a tattoo cause Rihanna's fucking them rude boys
I'm going crazy on these fucking beats, like a Shrute boy
I'm inside her in a trojan, being like "what it do, troy"
She grabbed my heart and called it a cute toy
Karma hit me like DJ Khaled fathering a mute boy
Saying that shit was a true joy
Though I'm not sure if what I'm fucking saying's a true story
Anyway. When you're making my tombstone
Just write "here lies a boy, hella young but too grown
And every drop of wine he vomited was a new poem
But he flushed the fucking toilet every fucking time, cause it looked wrong"
I'm a heartbreaker. It's very true, I can hook you up with hard data
I'm part real, part faker. Me&mic, pepper/salt-shaker
Escape first, read the charge later. They said I'm:
"Kinda faggy with the artistry". Told them I agree
But they didn't like the honesty. I said I'm fucking real
I've seen gods die and goddesses bleed
I've seen the devil dancing tango on the tallest of trees
Exactly. It's beautiful but it's not pretty
I'm gonna be a dumb fuck with a college degree
So look at me, doing ballet with led in my bones
And then I'm bumping oldies off my cellular phone, whoa
Track Name: Normal Man / Pop Vulture
Verse 1:
I'm a fucking walking normal man
Drinking orange Fanta straight out of a soda can
I'm a big time Yoga fan. Summer vacation
Making plans to go to France, I might go to Japan
To try to find and wine and dine Scarlett Johansson
Try to be wise, I quote Quran
Fuck Jay Leno, gotta double fucking name, it's Conan Stan
My style is boring, cause my goals are bland
Fuck rock, I'm a hip hop, and boulder fan
I stood still when you posers ran
Grip the microphone with both his hands
Just like a shotgun in the hands of an older man
When he becomes irrelevant like a postage stamp
Their style is cheesy, while I'm mostly ham
I put you fucks in a truck, you can call me Stan
You like the bible, I'm a Moses fan!
I'm burning some trees, hearing voices chant
Fingerbang her with Royce's hand
Cause I'm a man, all you boys be damned, fuck your ploys and plans
Clark Kents change clothes and run
While I relax, put my Kryptonite in Lois' bum, fun

Chorus:
What a pity, I'm walking through the city
Fuck me, no one's even half pretty
I'm acting silly, ugh, my name's Filip, ugh
I won't stop until I make a couple millis, ugh
X2


Verse 2:
I'm from Warsaw where nobody foresaw
We'd be fucked in a war when power divorced law
I shower in blood and call it a gore SPA
Mom is asking if I still do the rap thing, of course, Ma
No called one thus far, guess they think I'm subpar
Not at the studio, but another pub crawl
Don't blame me, it's your fucking Lord's fault
"No it's not". I guess I found your sore spot
Write rhymes, eyes bleeding with ink, I'm Rorschach
I'm not into fucking preachy rap-talk, so fuck Pac
Call up mister Walt White, just wait for my door knock
Crack a beer open, not smoking neither opium or rock
I'm not Mr. Horrorcore. I'm Mr. Voldemort in Baltimore
I'm giving you the war you've been hoping for
Fighting with Omar behind Walmart, of course it's raw
And if you're getting dizzy cause all the blood? You should focus more
Not the kind of vocal that folks ignore
Room shakes when I open the vocal chord
I'm screaming fuck the Vatican 'till the pope is sore
Gives me my cash back, greener than the fucking Hulk and Bulbasaur
Point me to the smorgasbord, I'm get eat like an animal
Like I don't know what these forks is for
Each line is a Horcrux, boy
And each time, I gotta remind you I give no fucks, boy

Chorus:
What a pity, I'm walking through the city
Fuck me, no one's even half pretty
I'maActing silly, ugh, my name's Filip, ugh
I won't stop until I make a couple millis, ugh
X2
Track Name: Halle Berry
Verse 1:
Young Hems is the name, you see
I flow vicious and chaotic like your veins on speed
I'm like your brain on E, acid, cocaine and weed;
Classy, mundane, indeed. I got a couple personalities so stay with me
If you're not liking what you're hearing I can change the scheme
And I can change the beat, like:
My girl pretty, my grades average
Saying: fuck the city, cause I am a savage
Cutting bruises in my brain so I get the smartness
But I went too far, man, just get the bandage
I need booze. A few sips help the sadness
Switch quicker than the motherfucking trends in Paris
I'm both the Agent Harrises and the Tony Sopranoses
Cue a Rap Genius nerd with some boring analysis
I'm the Gangeses and red wines flowing in palaces
I'm the millionth rapper saying how fucking evil and bad he is

Chorus:
That's boring
Claiming you're a fucking demon? (That's boring.)
Saying you spray chicks with semen? (That's boring.)
Crying we should respect the females? (So boring.)
Bragging 'bout your car and your nine?
Complaining about rapping 'bout dimes?
Rap purists go back to '95, go see Pac touring and go suck on his crack pipe

Verse 2:
I see. You fuckers are feisty
Cause I'm on my Ricky Ross, you're mad cause I'm icy
I wanna calm the fuck down, and light up a nice tree
But my own mind is going against me, like why me?
I guess I'm the rap game's Balotelli
All these big black Tobiases? I call'em Nelly
Got Halle B sucking my D, don't swallow, Berry-
My seed's precious. If you do it I am carving your belly
All I do is fucking rap, and I'm not charging a penny
You say you got bars, true, but it's not many
I fuck your clique up, stab Carl, rob Lenny
Then sip a Duff, watch some fucking Scrubs on the telly
I spit that red hot fat fire Bronsonelli
Slick white boy look, Tommy Carcetti
But I got the Omar brain, plus I got the Pollack flame
Priest Robak shame, really sonny you are not ready
Shots heavy. It's Friday, I'm on my Sobotka
Old Polish fuck, chugging beers, eating a babka
Then I'm cruising 'round the city with a bottle of vodka
And a pretty young doll, but I'm calling her Lalka
Like I'm motherfucking Prus, but my mózg is Kafka
And my music is red fuzzy, too, I'm Rothko
Cigarettes - I'm off those, I'm swimming in booze
I ain't got shit to lose, so I'm boasting I got flows

Chorus:
Comparing your flows to rivers? (That's boring.)
Love songs, like "her hips quiver"? (That's boring)
Still rhyming the words "nigga" and "trigger"? (That's boring)
Bragging 'bout your bling and look?
Shallow melodies on every hook?
Rap purists go back to '96, go compete with Lil' Kim over rights to Frank's dick

Outro:
Pac, Big L, Biggie
Proof, Big Pun, Eazy
Pimp C, ODB
X2
That's boring
Track Name: Chewbacca (ft. Joe Pesci)
Verse 1:
Mind hairy, money tall as fuck. Call me Chewbacca
I don't want to listen any Chuck, give me some Waka
"JFK" kind of flopped, I blame it on Jimmy Hoffa
It’s a race, I'm a big fat rat like Mickey's poppa
Fuck the race, I’ve been in the back. Sharpen the teeth. I'm skinning you cats
Running the game, going up in the chain and I will harassing your bitches in fact
H.E.M.I.N.G.W. A.Y, is that fucking dude bugging you, huh?
Mr. Hemingway coming through, ugh. Earning my bucks, who the fuck are you
Rolling me in Bohan, going bowling with Roman
Bellic it's getting hectic but, check it, I come from Poland
I'm blowing up in London, there's only one thing that I'm hoping
I wanna get a fucking feature from Sweden, shout-outs to Young Lean
Shout-outs to Pauline, uhm, I was just wondering
If you wanna get married, "goddamn it, Filip, you're drunk again"
Wake up next day, head broke again. Trying to roll a cigarette, man, fuck the wind
No cash, cause I spent most of it. Was it even worth it, man, it must've been

Chorus:
I'm Chewbacca. Crossbow, top shotta
I'm Chewbacca on these bombaclots
I'm Chewbaca. Crossbow at the copper
What am I doing? I just drank a lot
I'm screaming:
Goddamn. You motherfucker, you
X3

Verse 2:
I'm Chewie, see, put the Louie in Louis V
And I'm saying shout-outs to C.K, he's saying like "who is he"?
When I was seventeen on a rooftop in BK, I truly dreamed
Of becoming a freaking MC, I'm rapping now, holy shit
These rappers annoying
Me and the mic, like Chandler and Joey
Look at my balls, they're dangling, boy
I'm marrying Perry and strangling Zoey
You fuckers are cute
Feeling like Biggie so gimme the loot
Fuck all your parties and popping the mollies
My mommy just brought up some broccoli soup
All you blind fucks is Mrs Patmore
Peep this, how 'bout you tweet less and rap more
Jeez. If I was rich like Croesus and Macklemore
I think that I would buy me a dream at Yeezy's rap store
Maybe like a bottle of wine
Or two, three, four, you know I think a dozen is fine
A pack of cigarettes, you know I haven't smoked for some time
I got a message from a fan, fuck it, I'm not replying
You know why? 'I'm a diva. Fuck rap, playing FIFA
I do a show fuck off to Tenerifa
All you fuckers eat your hearts out like Khaleesi's beef
I plant the seed in the game like I harvest Amber Khalifa

Chorus:
I'm Chewbacca. Crossbow, top shotta
I'm Chewbacca on these bombaclots
I'm Chewbaca. Crossbow at the copper
What am I doing? I just drank a lot
I'm screaming:
"Goddamn. You motherfucker, you!"
X3

Verse 3:
Drink something and I'm a Wookie
Only though my only mixtape flopped, I'm not a rookie
I can almost hear hateful your thoughts like I was Sookie
Do a Vik, bet the dead guy will win, go call your bookie
Earl flow, and the lips kinda fat, I'm not as ugly
Face always IDGAF, like I was Droopy
Stole the thunder, got banned, got back I got a new key
'Finna start a fucking cool ass cult, like Captain Murphy
Taco Hems, go and run tell your friends, I'm out-this-worldly
Cancerous, like the Lump is my Kin, shout out to Lurleen
Are you late for the Sweatshirt wagon? Well, I'm kind of Early
But I bet it's gonna be full soon, you better hurry
Young Hems, known for lung flex
Rhymes bursting out compulsive like writing a dumb text
I will break your self-esteem after breaking your chums' necks
Show up at your show drunk and befriending your mum's ex, Taco