Temptations of the Fresh

by Klopfenpop

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1.
2.
3.
4.
03:32
5.
02:24
6.
7.
8.
03:41
9.
10.
11.

credits

released June 22, 2011

All tracks produced and mixed by Klopfenpop except 1, 2, 9, and 10.

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Klopfenpop Seattle

Ensuring Seattle's delightfully nerdy reputation won't be soon forgotten, Klopfenpop, Northwest native Josh Klopfenstein, brings lyricism, production, and delivery that definitely show his love for underground hip-hop. Klopfenpop counts legends like Gift of Gab, Aceyalone, and Lyrics Born as well as newer artists like B. Dolan, Ghettosocks, and Timbuktu as some of his chief influences. ... more

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Track Name: Back In The Day feat. Jake-bit & Babyback
When I was a kid I liked Bagel Bites;
Mama always makin’ sure that I’m playing nice.
Afternoons spent rockin’ laser tag and shite,
there wasn’t nothing’ on the line, just for braggin’ rights.

Head to Chuck E. Cheese, snag a prize.
Gummi root beer bottles, pizza by the slice.
Watchin’ Nickelodeon all day and night,
“Budnik, get it right or pay the price!”

But things really haven’t changed in life;
they still makin’ me wear nametags and ties
and still makin’ sure that I didn’t plagiarize,
but the boss makin’ sure that I’m playin’ nice, now.

I just watch my dreams vaporize,
like a bona fide saint getting’ sanctified.
Writin’ rhymes ‘bout the things that I patronize,
but some people just gotta antagonize.


Chorus:
You can try and put the childish shit away,
but it comes around again, you get the same.
You can sit and wait or you can get to playin’,
but it’s just the same shit and a different day.

Growin’ up back in the day.
Nothin’ really ever changed.
Everything just stays the same.


I grow'd up playin NES day and night,
mastered Mario, Marble Madness, and Burger Time.
Lunchable packed away in my backpack, snack pack
snuck into class cause you know I gotta have that.

Always lookin’ for an upgrade, tradin' food, yo,
the holy grail lunch was that deep dish Tombstone.
Get home, TV on, rockin' Keenan and Kel,
"Who loves orange soda? I do-o!", you know it well.

But I never really changed, work's just a new school,
got more rules than rights, so I writes my own rules.
Got more fools than brights, so I try and avoid tools,
but the cube life got me wantin’ out the corporate pool.

Life was grand, but got smaller as I grew taller.
I was never gonna be a baller makin' big dollars,
but I don't let it get me down, come down from the clouds,
and keep my head to the ground movin' to the next round.


Chorus


Nowadays keep it fresh, no frozen food bargain tray.
Less fermented, more dry-aged--vintage like a Carmenere.
Fructose, lactose, none of that in me;
All organic, no MSG, no GM, gluten free.

Slather on the Stubbs', no need to apologize.
Other guys can't sympathize how I caramelize my chicken thighs.
I'll tell you twice, can't sink your teeth into this truth.
Bit off more than you can chew, I toss a wet nap at you.

You can't handle my mandibles while they chewing on animals
'Bouts to get kinda cannibal, I masticate unimaginable.
It's a scandal that way I get away with these eats...
"I threw my hoodie on and said I'm out for treats."

Top shelf only with a flapjack snack attack
Nick nack paddy whack, mackin' on a half rack
Grillin' up crawdaddies, clams and lobster back
"Release the Cracken!" Yeah let me munch on that.

Chorus
Track Name: Cereal (A Day In The Life) feat. mr. spastic, C0splay, & Marc With a C
Just got home, see wifey get my honey smacks,
lay my chex on the table, because I'm freezin;’ up the flax,
Plus my honey's goin’ nuts with her cheery squeals and ohs—
It's like our love is excitebike, and I'm hittin’ the Turboz.

I’ve got the munchies, so I’m makin’ breakfast for lunch
I bite that brutally burnt bread and hear that cinnamon toast crunch.
Hit the store for some milk, this shady cat's by the dairy chiller.
Dude's lookin’ at me like some Addam's family cereal killer.

He turns, grabs an apple, jacks it runs for the door,
but I grab him by the hoodie, drag him down to the floor.
Knock off his cap'n crunch his nose and say "Want s’more?"
Crunch! Ain't nobody fuck with my grocery store.

Chorus:
Snap! Crackle! Klop!
Snap Crackle! Klopfenpop!
Snap! Crackle! C0s!
Snap! Crackle! C0s don't stop!

C0splay served Hoth on this verse. Please submerse
yourselves while I'm raisin' my bran first. Ya!
Let me tell you: I got the lyrics on this jam.
I'm a balanced badass measured out in golden grams.

Keep it crisp like a cookie, ewok to a wookie.
Yo, I'm lucky with the charms draw you in like Bill to Sookie.
Lookie, lookie! Grape nut on stage huff and puff.
Cuckoo rhymes with cocoa flow—you'll never get enough.

Emcee of champions, call me special C0splay
Get you wet with my dry wit—delicious any time of day.
Kid in me keeps it frosty; nerd in me keeps it 1337.
My rhymes are warm and toasty servin' all your ears can eat.

Chorus

Gotta hit the venue ‘cuz I'm rockin’ a show.
I’m sweet like sugar, crisp like toast, good for your heart like Cheerios.
I grab a Mack and Jack’s, it’s golden, crisp and delicious.
Mic chex, mix set—system's soundin’ vicious.

Now it's time to start the show like when the corn pops.
I always bring the total package, so you know I get my props.
Thoughts out in the open, mind stripped bear naked,
my flow's like Thai food: hot, with a 5-star rating.

And these ain't no froot loops, kids, they just straight beats;
get ready for the kaboom ‘cuz I'm the cream of the wheat.
When I rock the mic, you know I gotta get it just right.
Like a bowl of cereal, It's just a day in the Life.

Klopfenpop: "Man, C0splay, it sounds like you really like cereal."

C0splay: "Fuck yeah, I do. I'm eatin' a bowl of Kix in the booth!"

Klop: "Daaayumn! You do like cereal! ...Hey, is that Marc With a C?"

C0s: "Hey, Marc With a C! What's up?"

Marc: "Hey, guys. What's up?"

Klop: "Hey, Marc With a C, do you like cereal, too?"

Marc:
The only reason I get up at all
or have the energy to have a ball
or even do anything at all
is Fruity Pebbles!

I'll never have to be a cannibal.
It kinda looks like aquarium gravel.
I'll eat it out the box or in a bowl
my Fruity Pebbles!
Track Name: Prime Obsession
Well IT'S TIME for THIS methodical MIND to get shit STARTED.
I’m RUNNIN’ hot, burnin' diesel ON my PRIME target.
I’ve got THE directive to kill
all undue NUMBERS, disposing WITH composite and nill.

And then PRECISELY I’m eliminatin’ negative, TOO.
It FACTORS right into the WRITIN’ of this verse.
Imbued with RHYMES composed of individual words,
conveyed WITH rhythm, THE factors are articles and verbs.

MATHEMATICAL prose with these SPECS they’re ON sum.
When you go to CHECK your answers the BEST is yet to come.
I BREAK the conventions of this hip hop shit.
OUT for blood, slayin’ YOUR preconceptions.
TEXT is the rift

FOR settin’ YOUR mind free, your BRAIN let out of its cage.
‘Cuz I’m about to repeat this verse--it GETS strange,
‘cuz the WRECKED manner that I retain only PRIME
shows OBSESSION on the part of the author of this rhyme.

It’s time this mind started runnin’ on prime, the numbers with precisely two factors writin’ rhymes with the mathematical specs, on check. Best break out your text ‘fore your brain gets wrecked. Prime Obsession.

Promulgating
Rhymes.
Intrinsically
Mathematic,
Every

One
Behind
Scenes
Exuding
Symptomatic
Signs,
Indications
Of
Neurotic

Prime obsession.

Knowledge
Lacks
Objective
Perspective,
For
Everyone
Now
Promiscuates
Overt
Partiality.

Knowing
Light
Obscures
Promulgation,
Filling
Empty
Nomenclature,
Propagating
Organic
Personality.

Kinetic
Loquations,
Omnipotent
Perpetrations;
Forget
Each
Naysayer’s
Prattlin’
On
Principality.

Kickin’
Laboriously
Ordered
Prose
For
Everybody
Not
Presupposed
Obfuscating
Practicality.
Track Name: Tough Guise
You come in here all like, "Yo, I'm da best,
I got studio monitors!" Is this clown serious?
You don't produce, never made a single one of your beats—
coppin' instrumental mp3s from Jay-z.

And all you rap about is how you get so faded;
you a super tough guy and you're so not gay, man;
all those scary guns you got; and the size of your penis.
"Dawg, even ask my homie...I-I mean, not that he's seen it."

But I just don't give a shit how hard you think you are, see?
And I really don't care how rich you pretendin' to be,
how you got pretty clothes and shiny new shoes—
man, none of that shit'll make me respect you.

'Cuz hip-hop ain't about bitches, bubbly, or blunts,
bein' a baller with bullets or the baddest boy on the block.
Ain't about you overcompensatin' insecure fakers,
it's about emcees and deejays and painters and breakers.

Chorus:
You not hip-hop (you not hip-hop)
and nobody cares when your album drops. (nobody cares)
Your rhymes couldn't be sadder,
you just don't matter,
you're a minor league rapper and you need to stop. (do the world a favor)

This track ain't even about the fact you can't rap,
or the Xbox headset that you used for your vocal track.
It also ain't about how fuckin' awful your mix is,
or even how your subject content's so repetitious.

My beef is that you emulatin' somethin' you're not.
You tryin' to be just like the shit that's killin' hip-hop—
this self-referential, insulated bullshit.
No fuckin' substance, they rappin' 'bout their necklaces.

See if hip-hop's all about the shit you do 'cuz you're rich,
then why's some dude makin' a demo tryin' to write about it?
'Cuz hip-hop 101 is that you gotta be you,
but you tryin' to write about some shit you never been through.

Callin' cats haters when they say you're absurd.
How the fuck we s'posed to hate on shit we ain't even heard?
No rep to speak of, no one thinks you're the bomb.
You got a track called "Superstar", while you live with your mom? Come on…

Chorus

Nobody cares about your album, baby.
No, no, no, no not even ya mamma,
and she got it for free,
she didn't even have to give you a single penny.
And it never hit her CD player.
Nobody cares.
Nobody cares.
Track Name: Dual Wield
Every situation ain’t got just one perspective
each party with there own objectives, subjective in their reflective ponderings
Pandering, ‘cuz we all need someone to blame,
That's the name of the game, it's just the same old refrain.
Plain as night, right as rain
The thing that's right, insights disdain
Fade to white, fight the pain
You maybe right, but you derranged
You take delight, in strikin' in pain?
So much much delight, we can't contain
Just try to maintain civility
Hope some humanity remains.



When I think back to before there was an us,
Never used to have to worry about who I could trust
Never used to have to worry about when I could lust
Never had to worry about how not to get cussed out
we just sittin' on the couch,
but now I gotta deal with your screams and your shouts
Layin' into me, gettin' personal, too.
Gotta guard my heart somehow what you want me to do?
Brick by brick you erected this wall
Steel struts, concrete foundation and all
You made sure penetration could never occur
Except from the place where you were
Now I'm workin' on a plan of my own
Sealing up the remaining gaps in this stone
X's on the windows, tape on the cracks
Securing my homeland from the threat of attack



And this is how it goes
Round and round again, and where it stops nobody knows
But I suppose, it ain't just chance when I repeat scenarios
But I don't even fucking remember choosing the decision that I chose.
Tell yourself you'll admit when you're wrong, but you never do
Pride keeps you to mere confession, you think it's clever dude?
Tell yourself and her that you'll leave, relation severed through
But you know that you'll do whatever it takes to weather through
So be real with yourself, what's the end you have in mind?
Have even thought this through or is it as yet undefined?
Got no reason at all, but you still gotta be Mr. Tough,
It ain't even servin' a purpose--aren't things already rough enough?
So relax, sit back and take an inventory
Make a mental memo of the minutiaed millions more momentous than your glory
Achieve an accurate perspective, then go humbly to your wife
And tell her you're fucking sorry, and that you love her more than life
Track Name: Don't Panic feat. MC 117, Milk-Plus, & Diabeats
Chorus:
Everyone ignored the exodus oceanic.
Now I’m a hitchhiker, I ain’t got no home planet.
Got a babelfish all up in my tympanic,
so know where your towel is and don’t panic.

MC 117:
They began it, a race of pandimensional beings
who commissioned what they wishin’ from the great Magratheans
who designed a computer that could finally reason out
the answer that’d had a universe disagreein’.

See the computer was our world and the sum of it’s bases
meant that organic life now formed a part of its matrix.
Set the timer for two million years and let’s bake this.
And every single human’s just a speck in the cake mix.

Woke up this morning feeling locally threatened
when my hoopy frood Ford came and offered protection.
See I didn’t even know that a great answer beckoned,
but after two million years we’re at the very last second.

Now a Vogon constructor fleet came down to wreck this.
Destroying the Earth was just a box on they checklist.
In my wildest dreams I could never expect this—
I’ve done six impossible things before breakfast.

Chorus

Klopfenpop:
The smart ones just do what they’re told, relinquish control.
Don't need to listen to’em, they spoke at the polls.
Handed over the keys to this galactic miasma.
Gettin' trim from here to ZZ9 plural Z alpha.

‘Cuz I'm the president, but I got my own damn agenda
on an endeavor to render the infinite comprehender's
ultimate question then make the answer align.
This ain't about philosophy, man, it's about that bottom line.

Trekkin' cross endless open spaces lookin' for traces of stasis
'cuz the place I'm locatin' is in hibernation.
Tryin'a get some yeses and noes out of these maybes,
but I always make time to shake hands and kiss babies.

But you think I take orders from mice? That's a fallacy.
This is my ship and this is my fuckin' galaxy.
This chick was cute, but now she's tryin'a ruin my fun.
Man, I got 42 problems, but a hitch ain't one.

Chorus

Milk-Plus:
I wish I was a little bit positronic,
failing that a hypersonic saw, or just a turbolift door.
'Cuz though my IQ's off the chart, I have to deal with relegation
to just a metal porter sometimes used for sanitation.

Just look at me for pity's sake—they built me like a car wreck
and I've got about the same maneuverability as a Dalek
Is it any wonder or surprise I'm such a mess
When I'm just a toaster in disguise... God I'm so depressed!

By design I got the intellect but aesthetically all wrong
'cause I was made by Sirius Cybernetics not Dr. Noonian Soong
There in lies my problem see I simply can't compete
with these next generation androids who have made me obsolete

and life? don't talk to me about it—I can do without it.
Now I lay me down to sleep, try to count electric sheep.
Be careful who you grab that hitch off, Vogons are in town.
And now I guess I'll just switch off before I bring you down.

Chorus

Diabeats:
Patricia is my given name, out here you call me Trillian.
Earth is signed away, but yet nobody thought to fill me in.
Eclectic and eccentric with the widest of eyes.
Lost without a purpose in the darkest of skies.

I’ll get up in your face then I have a heart of gold.
This depressive droid and pretty boy are starting to get old.
It was adventure that I sought, and adventure that I got.
Reunited with the nerdy boy so fearful and distraught.

Questions, perspectives, love, improbability.
Drivin’ toward an answer while I’m filled with such uncertainty.
Kidnapped and stolen; wreckless and strong.
The Vogons start their droning and I know it won’t be long

‘til we get it all together and I’m free to spread my wings.
Settling at home or exploring Saturn’s rings.
Plant a kiss on Arthur and the boy is flabbergasted.
All I really wanted was to go to Madagascar.

Chorus