Seven & Crown

by Ekspan & Illiterate

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credits

released September 15, 2012

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about

Ekspan Los Angeles, California

New solo album"Utterly Disgusted" out now! Ekspan aka Dr. Eksplicit. Jabberjive Productions and Cypher Circuit member. Been doing hip hop music since 1999. Twitter, Instagram and Soundcloud links below. contact:
eksplicit@hotmail.com or phone #661-674-0677. Thanks for checking out my stuff, peace.
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Track Name: Phenomena
We make this something to remember, like the fifth day of November
While you count the fucking crows and bitch throughout a long December
Revving up this furnace now we feed em’ to the fire
Gotta teach these kids what time it is like Stringer from The Wire
Making mad examples, find you little punks insulting
Having revelations drunk like Bunk and McNulty
Figured out the whole thing, can see it’s all connected
Got a killer on the road beyond the doors of your perception


We keep it hyped as all hell with an ugly fucking world view
You couldn’t even start to fathom half of what we’ve hurdled through
Straight up murderin’ your silly never heard of crew
That does each other’s eyeliner while straightening out the curly cues
You look and act like Curly Sue, a brat that had a bad day
But don’t even exist now like crooks that go half way
Your shook………………like some crack heads at dice games
And one verse from you gives out five days of migraines
It’s time to migrate and take that flock of seagulls
To this worlds polar opposite and be sure I never see you
The Saint of Killers wrecking every sketchy buster
Plus a mind that’s merged with demons like the revered Jessie Custer
Preaching on while dishing out these daily verbal beat downs
Laughing when you talk about your credit on the street, clown
You’re going down bitch, way beneath the cellar
With a chance to see that light again as well as Helen Keller
Embellish these propellers of the helicopter circling
That stops corrupt conglomerates and cures the hurt with Percodan
Funny side effects, blurry things the mind rejects
Found a Bad Religion, feeling NOFX from Minor Threats
On a timeless quest, climb the grimy Holy Grail
Young and restless first to fall, the brave and bold prevail
The ships already set sale, you silly bitches missed me
So stay tipsy from your spritzers, I swim rivers filled with whiskey
Track Name: Devils Spit
Acting like she’s hot shit, your skanky lady’s plain
Whatever happened to your bastard ass along with Baby Jane?
A slightly deranged mind frame from off the train tracks
The darker side of looking glass that’s bound to make your brain lapse
The masses want there plain facts and feedings from a spoon
But these harpoons that I be slinging leave you bleeding in the gloom
Gone, baby, gone from those wrong cards and chances
Dropping out like overdosing Hearts in Atlantis
A frozen fricken world, in which I’m from the Unforgiven
But just bitching gets you nowhere, still within a slumber grinnin
Make the drunkest of decisions, still be driven and determined
Up in ciphers, steady slurring, vision blurry, spitting sermons
All these needs are just a burden, steady cruising for a bruising
Reach the verdict and it burns ya, that my crew is never losing
Never stood a frozen chance in hell if that’s some consolation
Left inside a cellar dwelling when were off to rock the nation


It’s fucking Seven & Crown, you got your head in the clouds
Were quickly tearing it down, and bring that devilish sound
With imperative frowns, and deadly jacks gripping mics
Its more than likely if you’ve stepped to Jabberjive you’ve risked your life
The shit is never nice, you think by now that kids would know that
But your busy at the cookout bumpin pussy little slow jams
So get with the program Toejam and Earl
Stick down the toe tag, go back and hurl
Spew inside of this, up chuck or Ralph Macchio
Beat the living piss out of you dumb fucks and sloppy hoes
Who the hell you mocking bro, were stepping up to Exodus
A specialist with parodies that makes you look like excrement
My final will and testament, kill and bet your head will spin
This message gets relentless while you’re steadily embezzling
Injecting heavy mescaline and busting out the sutures
No escaping from the mess you’re in and stuck without a future
Track Name: State of Corrections
Running fucking races with a hangover in Vegas
Outrageous when released from cages on these drunken rages
Flip the withered pages in a notebook full of hardship
Pull your thoughts apart for trying to barter with a Martian
You’re barking up the wrong tree and need to learn these lessons
I’ve conceived a life in a darkness to conceal secret weapons
Can’t think to keep it pleasant with some phony sugar coating
Instead it’s Cold Blood and weirder than Truman Capote
While you’re singing Karaoke, doing body-shots, and keg stands
Trying to make some silly band, and wanna lean to break dance
All that trendy bullshit underneath the heated sun
And I just bust up fucking laughing when I hear you speak of guns
Defeat with deadly puns, plus a grip of killer similes
Mentalist artillery and visions filled with villainy
Delivering a bucket full of bad luck and rat guts
Call your girl a fat slut and smash you with a Mack truck


CAN YOU FEEL ME ONE TIME?
Yes I’ve been there and done that
HIT ME ONE TIME?
Yes I’ve gone there and come back
IM RIGHT HERE, YOU WANT SHIT COME AND GET SOME
LEARN YOU A LESSON, THE STATE OF CORRECTIONS!


Going fucking mad like Norman Bates or Norman Daniels
Straight up morgue-ish motherfucker, never normal, morbid vandal
Been roasting whores with candles in a cemetery séance
Resurrect the fucking dead and forming agents made of chaos
Yo we stay off by the shadows in a city of corruption
Roughing up some politicians make em talk like Teddy Ruxpin
A dirty dozen that’ll cut your stomach lining
Drowning out the sound of all you spoiled munchkins whining
Track Name: Mic Doug
Darkside, bag of sleaze, around the clock constantly
You’re whacker than Keanu Reeves, and sent to hell like Constantine
Hellish type philosophies are fucking up your battle plan
Resemble Coleman Collins lurking in a Shadow Land
It’s verbal contraband, and yo this shit aint up for grabs
The man who wouldn’t shake a hand and ate some funny tabs
Clever cunning plans amongst the sickest flowing caliber
Smash your dome like watermelons, rocking shows with Gallagher
You travel round with Gulliver, and look like fuckin Gilligan
A bitch mixed with an idiot that gets the kiddies giggling
Let’s get these piggies wiggling, beginning killing missions
Starting shit for kicks now slit your wrists and get em drippin’
Trippin on the microphone, compelled to stutter violent
Lose my mind like Teddy Daniels deep in Shutter Island
Sworn to utter silence, and repeat this gritty treatment
To the point of no return like Illy swimming off the deep end
Catch me gettin’ weeded, thinking ways to cheat the system
Enlisted with a clique that you could only wish to spit with
Clean the fucking dishes trick and finish up your homework
No tolerance for bullshit like Bart Dawes from Roadwork
A grumpy old jerk whose losing friends quickly
Lose touch with reality throughout my week of sick leave
It’s sickening, got tricks up the sleeve with pocket aces
Shit you can’t believe and bring a speech that’s often tasteless
Razorblades to faces, fuck your lame amazing races
You’re shriveled up forgotten slimy California Raisins
Taking shit for granted when you pussies really shouldn’t
Cause the verse you spit sounds like a sixty second whoopee cushion
You’re pushing fucking limits, finding out how bad that life sucks
Fish around for sympathy but no one’s giving five fucks
Falling down faster than an early nineties Mic Doug
And no one talks about you like the first two rules of Fight Club
Track Name: Octopus Hose (feat. Jed Strongsmith)
The Crown’s infused with Seven now we’re ready, rappin’ raggedy
A reckless bunch of ragamuffins breaking necks in battle scenes
Assault with broken batteries, a bungalow of scatterbrains
Fuck your lame apparel and the so called Saints of Latter Day
The maddest of a hatter phase, trying to keep the bats away
Making haters rack their brain upon a splattered path to pave
You say you got a pack to make? It’s way too fucking late son
Time for you to take a nap, and smack you as the base bumps
And everybody takes dumps on your latest record
We’re still bending minds like the stairs from M.C. Escher
Feeling rage like Charlie Decker, got the class on lecture mode
Steady listen to a Swan Song on long and windy roads
An apocalypse bestowed upon a re-envisioned setting
Turning topsy-turvy quickly, probably something I’m forgetting
Fuck it, life is but a pity and a rotten box of chocolates
A crock of raunchy dog shit that often gets obnoxious
Track Name: Hellinger
I’m still bingin’ gentlemen start your faulty engines
A filthy risky business, no time to merely sip shit
Rookies get their wigs split within an instant
Eksplicit liquidation sale, sick with tripled vision
Now everything can change like a minute stuck in N.Y.
Or head back to the guillotine and let some fucking heads fly
It’s buzzin’ past your bed time, yet we’ve only begun to drink
This fucking ship is fun to sink, get sober maybe once a week
Aint seen a lucky streak in all these blurry thirty years
Keep the humor tongue in cheek as brutal murder scenes appear
Turning blurry pictures clear like Dario Argento
Put the pieces back together, fresh out of mementos
Sometimes it’s best to let go, before the Dead Zone
Claims you, and then leaves you more forgot than Brad Renfro
Keep up with the quota, still deliver new deadmans
Pull the troops together, standing tall like Stu Redman
Making more heads spin than chickens left in Mexico
Wrecking every festival than hex you into vegetables
Sneaking out the vestibule, I pull a disappearing act
A couple steps ahead no matter what, now time to fear the facts
Stay where the beers be at, and where my mind slipped
Shortly after sunset get a transfer to the Night Shift
You fools are spineless, bottom feeder jellyfish
Looking like an aids infested chick on Telly’s dick
Track Name: Talk Some Jive (feat. JJP Crew)
Loungin’ lackadaisical and life is still a sick joke
Linger in the spliff smoke; spit lyrics out on skid row
Go wherever wind blows, or way the day may take you
See gritty type of psychos rising up to knife your fake crew
The time has come to pay dues, and rock some fucking bells bitch
Socking up you nerds who drop that wizard, dwarf, and elf shit
I’m Mr. fucking selfish, with zero self-respect
And make you look like anti-smoking ads, with holes up in the neck
Got a mental rolodex to reference all the hoes in check
You ugly bitches smoking meth are fucking done for hopeless wrecks
Focusing on death and don’t forget the morgue’s eternal
Double J’s been running shop while you adjust your mother’s girdle
You wimpy little pussys need to find a different past time
Snuffed out by these bad guys before its even half time
My crew remains mad fly, we drink and hit Swishers
Then disintegrate the yuppie fucking scum and shit kickers!
Track Name: Trick Photography
Eternal Darkness, time to spark upon some gritty shit
You fools pursuing happiness, its tough fucking titty bitch
Cause me and Illy spit the sickest forms of wickedness
And rearrange your clock so you can watch how clear this picture gets
It’s like a Poltergeist; my life’s composed of frozen ice
Told you these things once before and more than likely told you twice
Roll the dice to double money, murder all Mcconaugheys
Got threats as good as promises with lots of em upon the way
Another awful day of harvesting a boggled brain
A put my alky goggles on and problems all dissolve to gray
The house of cards falls and turns into charades
While people cut the throats of friends to jump on center stage
Yet we stay renegades that like to start up interventions
Steady feeding live grenades to all those starving for attention
The Shawshank Redemption, now in two thousand ten
Kill yourself slowly, wonder who, how and when
We fool crowds and then just disappear without a trace
Left to fear the fucking reaper creep in deeper outer space
See another blurry face, can’t help kicking shit and screaming
Good ole terrors every night will reign supreme, no pleasant dreaming
Yeah these fools are steady scheming with horrific type delusions
So we take exacto knives to get precise with execution
Stuff those lame excuses where the sun will never reach
Cause this tracks like and eclipse and we got lessons here to teach
So speak only when spoken to, and show some damn respect
So many spoiled fucking brats these days, it’s like the planet’s hexed
Can’t stand it and I’m stressed, just in case you couldn’t tell
That’s why my shit is never friendly and I feel compelled to yell
So drag me back to hell and I’ll embrace the heated vapors
Get to meet up with my demon friends, embark on evil capers
Start a thesis paper, probably snap the bong later
Fucking mad man with a strange past like Don Draper
Track Name: Stringer Bell
We tear the fucking roof apart to open up some breathing space
Found some rusty ginsu knives, but no way to retrieve your face
So take a leap of faith, then your fucking ankles break
I slay with razorblades with making faderades through games of skate
And make the great escape from any given paradox
While you look like the heap of shit from Spielberg’s triceratops
Never prepared to stop, I’m in this shit for life son
Eleven years now paying dues, while you’re some fly by night chumps
……………………that gets instantly forgotten
Straight up pissed away to nothing, flesh got stripped and ate by goblins
Yo it’s this way to the coffin, look and find the reapers vision
Got a timeless death obsession and the sight for bleaker visions
Creepy type depictions catch your interest for the long haul
Harsh and unfiltered just like prison yard Pall Malls
And yes the doctors on call, forever keeps the mind disturbed
Breaking fucking bad like Walter White becoming Heisenberg!


The further sickened days of Doc Eksplict and the plague
Drinking Tanquerey straight from the keg and breaking fucking legs
Breaking out the maze that lays within this minds delirium
Been blazing purple haze for many days, still kind of furious
………………….that’s just the nature of the beast in me
Cynical for grips of weeks, depicting these indecent things
Increasing with the frequency, now think before you speak to me
Can rearrange your limbs while finding different ways to freak the beat
A freaky fucking Friday, catch me mobbing like a zombie
Then were headed back to Oz, and taking off some heads like Mombie
Never cared for what you corporate bloodsuckers taught me
Pulling fucking fast ones like a Hudsucker Proxy
…………..we keep it raunchy and tasteless
Lacerating faces on an every dayish basis
Making braver changes on the tracks were still lacing
While you’re completely worthless like your name was Dick Grayson
Its like the sixth Jason, shit gets taken way too far
Plus you aint no villain kid, just may need glasses like Jafar
Smashed and mad bizarre, it might be rather hard to handle
As I key you’re prissy car, and shit upon your silly sandals
You silly fucking sallies might as well be selling sea shells
Were shutting down your scene and lurk from underneath where freaks dwell
Watch you free fall from the song like Tome Petty
Take a final dance with Mary Jane, and got the bombs ready!
Track Name: The Midnight Hour Crew
Ugly fucking freakazoid beyond the Outer Limits
Known to creep inside your dreams like Freddy, leaving doubters timid
The hour glass is thinning, stay on top, but under pressure
While you’re quick to follow footsteps of the robots trapped in Stepford
Toxic type avenger, known for scoring big like Bender
Write these fresh confessions letters, then its death before surrender
Render down the bacon in this stranger angel city
Stay deranged but never faking, find the slang these days a pity
So many little pussies wanna run around and hug it out
And Twitter all your stupid plans that no one gives a fuck about
I’m rolling down some thunderclouds and drowning out your monologue
Got problems of my own and sneaking drinks these days while on the job
Sick of all you goblin mobs and rotten conversations
Those of you with complexes of god I’ll stomp your face in
Face the fucking music, face the facts and find the truth
Try to keep you clowns in line, but still got jokes like Michael Bluth


So many shitty writtens nowadays still claiming freestyle
It’s not impressive either way you sketchy fucking grease pile
I keep my drunken mean style that shuns away from compromise
And anti-social leader type who’s fucking up your conga line
So farewell all my concubines, get on to meet your maker
As I optimize this frosted mind and bleed these dreams on paper
A deceitful sneaky savior with a style that’s cloak and dagger
Screaming nothing fucking matters in a mirror that’s broke and shattered


It’s Mr. Personality, but here’s my Sixth Persona
Just don’t got the time or tolerance for prissy pre Madonna’s
Feel the teeth of these piranhas sinking deep into your spinal column
Barely scratched the surface, wait til Crown and Sevens final volume
……………it’s uglier than most
Haunt you greedy misers more than Jacob Marley’s ghost
And like a Comedy Central Roast I get more raw than Greg Giraldo
While you search around for Waldo, looking like a gay Geraldo
You can’t do shit but follow, and got zero in the heart department
Pull the trump card from you chumps and put an instant stop to farces
Get your rotten carcass off my motherfucking door step
You’re dead to me like your dead mother, and all those thoughts are force fed
An ugly warped head for killing off these culprits
Could see through all your plagiaristic, cliché-ridden bullshit
Still thinking you’re so sick, I’m gonna laugh and watch you drown
The dumbest fucking thing I’ve heard since S.C.V. turned Awesome Town
Track Name: Glass Held High
Illy and Eksplicit, dedicated past a decade
Move today’s game of hip hop from check to checkmate
Levitate while hawking nasty lugees at these lemmings
And suggest to looking elsewhere if you like the lyrics friendly
I’m in these darkest places, where the liquor gladly sends me
Choke you with a necktie til you feel the fucking frenzy
Catch this stranger on a train, and then I’m gone without a trace
Without a shadow of a doubt we’ll break a rake across your face
We make the lyrics that’ll actually mean something
Stay against the grain and strive to keep the steez rugged
These geeks are bugging like the eyes of Tori Spelling
Bust your swollen fucking melon, keep things gory and compelling
Graphic storytelling at its finest like The Swamp Thing
While you’re stuck in the image of some snotty fucking prom king
Haunting with these zombies, day or night, like George Romero
Steady walking with the dead throughout a town of hopeless zeroes


Born on a Monday, like Solomon Grundy
You keep up with Kardashians, I kick it with the Bundy’s
Can’t take nothing from me, fucking scum of earth and loser type
Lowest of the low, that’s somehow bringing things to newer heights
Dishing out some new advice, can’t separate the truth from lies
Digging up these graves while calling one eight hundred suicide
We’re living in some foolish times, the land of great pretenders
Taking way too much for granted, time to stage a fake surrender
Sometimes dead is better, bet we keep them brains lapsing
Flip the circuit breaker; find a flash in pan has been
Before you actually can track this irrational craftsman
I’m zapped on planet acid, flashing back to Pan’s Labyrinth
Drank a batch of absinthe, start attacking with a hatchet
On the verge of a nervous breakdown, overworked like Bob Cratchit
So in haphazard fashion, I snag my last chances
And strangle nasty bitches out, like Jack did Nurse Ratched