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Junk Drawer Vol. 2

by Schaffer the Darklord

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1.
One Fall 02:43
Let me tell you people something right now Shut up until I put this mic down And lay waste to every act in the game Then you’ll have permission to be chanting my name I came up in the locals then NXT I was Raw Tonight you’ll catch a Smack Down your face to your jaw No manager or partner, just a monster A One Man Gang, I’m decimating the roster I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl The following contest is scheduled for one fall Oh and I’m gonna take it Your pay per view win streak, I’m gonna break it Your name in the hall of fame, I will erase it Born to play the heel, never gonna face it I’m climbing up the ladder past you and higher Retire you and laugh as the last of the fire From your fans in the cheap seats is dying down You can’t see me, my time is now I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl The following contest is scheduled for one fall Ooh, and it’s gonna be you Taking that fall from the top rope BOOM You’re putting me over tonight, I’m putting you through The broadcast table, brother, what you gonna do? Been a legend killer on the circuit for years Dishing out the injuries that finish careers You’re face down now, nearly fatally harmed Hearing “here is your winner” when they’re raising my arm I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl The following contest is scheduled for one fall Woo! And I’m gonna win it I will have you tapping out or pinned within minutes Leave your legacy in tatters and diminished Space is the place, and the sky is the limit, yeah Less a man than a beast made of rage When I’m tossing your body off of the top of the cage And you’re ruined, I walk away the champ undisputed With the belt around my waist as they’re playing my music I’ve locked up with the best of them, toppled them all Working day and night to rock with you, off the wall No holds barred like an all-out pub brawl The following contest is scheduled for one fall
2.
Lyrics by Adam Yauch, Adam Horowitz and Michael Diamond (1992).
3.
I’m a terror in jeans, like every therapist’s dream And while the other one is dressed up in a suit with the seams Maybe purple showing out his pocket square with a laugh We’re the walking dead, eating everything in our path And maybe you shouldn’t ask about our pasts, like did you see that? I will kick you in the face, and I will break your knee caps And we blow this doors out this, bloody beaten Leave you on the pavement, motherfucking Steven Malkmus Oh yes I’m indie or something, you think it’s nerdcore or nothing I’m smoking sausage in the shack while powder dusting your muffins Cold coffee, hot pizza on the track Brass knuckles on my hands when I meet you in the back You could swear I’m a fiend, I’m rage against the machine Back in the 90’s when your politics were more on the scene I hold a pro-choice sign at your pro-life function Screaming “legalize weed!” because you ain’t saying nothing Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be Living in Beverly Hills Beverly Hills, rolling like a celebrity Living in Beverly Hills Here comes trouble, son, listen, it's another one From M & E, your enemies are all out of bubblegum Thump you like a drum - bum - bum - bum ba dum Dump the mic and run, dumb dumb, you're done One comes from a past age, one had a crack phase Each of them is sicker than a villager with black plague Both admired idols who inspire rappers' hope Will you ever be as dope? Long answer: nope I suggest you listen to your language, learn some new terms Like "mark," a word that serves as both a noun and a verb You're just plain lazy on it, slurring your sounds While I go John Wayne Gacy on it, murderous clown I'm breaking it down I'm staking a claim at the crown taking the gates at the pound Siccing the pit bulls upon you and watching you wailing and shake on the ground Maybe it's now you’ll realize that stepping to mics is the same as just making a mess Silly rappers, try and act like you ain't facing the best Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be Living in Beverly Hills Beverly Hills, rolling like a celebrity Living in Beverly Hills If you’re a bad motherfucker named Mark, everybody say Rock rock on, rock rock on If you’re a bad motherfucker named Eugene, everybody say Do that shit, do that shit, come on If you’re a bad motherfucker named Mark, everybody say Rock rock on, rock rock on If you’re a bad motherfucker named Beverly, then you say Do that shit, do that shit, come on Beverly Hills, that’s where I want to be Living in Beverly Hills Beverly Hills, rolling like a celebrity Living in Beverly Hills
4.
Pockets 03:21
I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets And in my pockets I got a lot of objects Anything you want I bet I probably got it ‘Cause I got an awful lot in my pockets I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets And in my pockets I got a lot of objects Maybe I’m a hoarder or whatever you call it But yeah, I got a lot of stuff in my pockets What I’m always telling you? PKW Phone, keys, wallet, Ilana, PKW I’m running through an inventory of my pockets Phone, keys, wallet, wallet, keys, phone, wallet – got it Check them off the list and see what we missed Got a cool mint spritzer in a Listerine Mist Next to a Chapstick, flavor: original Four black rubber gloves, I ain’t even kidding, y’all I got a handkerchief and half a pack of Chiclets A gold adapter and some old raffle tickets Eleven ultra lights left in a pack A fresh Bic lighter (What color is it?) black, duh A paperclip, a Duane Reade receipt Apple earbuds and a couple of beats A fine point roller ball, a notebook too In which I wrote these lyrics and drew pictures of dicks I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets And in my pockets I got a lot of objects Anything you want I bet I probably got it ‘Cause I got an awful lot in my pockets I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets And in my pockets I got a lot of objects Maybe I’m a hoarder or whatever you call it But yeah, I got a lot of stuff in my pockets And if it gets intense, I got a leather collar I got fifty cents and forty-seven dollars A lucky talisman, a foot from a rabbit, son Half a dozen bullets though I never really had a gun A cookie fortune with a sick prediction Sixty doses each of my six prescriptions A macaroni poster that a little kid made A switchblade comb, also got a switchblade A broken bracelet that states I’m living fabulous A room key card from the Hyatt Minneapolis I have a hammer, I got a power sander And a mint condition ’82 Cobra Commander I got power chargers and batteries for days Talking 9 volts, D-cells, triple double A’s An inaccurate schematic for a nuclear bomb And an autographed photograph of me and your mom I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets And in my pockets I got a lot of objects Anything you want I bet I probably got it ‘Cause I got an awful lot in my pockets I got a lot, I got a lot of pockets And in my pockets I got a lot of objects Maybe I’m a hoarder or whatever you call it But yeah, I got a lot of stuff in my pockets I got some coasters and coke mirrors and frisbees And every CD every local band ever gives me I got a sailboat, it’s got a missing rudder Got a loaf of bread, container of milk, a stick of butter An untouched 35mm print of Star Wars A peanut butter cup, a couple of car doors From a DeLorean, a portrait of Dorian I got a bunch of live goddamn scorpions I got a mannequin and a jack-o-lantern A bottle of pinot and a glass decanter I got bedbugs, a slug bug and a pair of pliers I got earplugs, a butt plug, I’m wearing a wire A full set of horseshoes and a pony bridle An ice sculpture of a moose on a motorcycle The Mona Lisa crafted in ceramic beads Got a pepperoni pizza and a bag of weed
5.
Ooh, whatchoo wanna do, boo? What you get into? I just wanna bounce up out and have some fun with you There’s something wild behind your smile, I see it trickle through Maybe we can teach each other a new trick or two So where to? My place or yours? Or anywhere where we can get behind closed doors? I’ll gladly go and grab us up a cab, but before that I must ensure that everything is well above board, yeah Here’s my full name, and here’s my address In case you want to send them to your best friend in a text And let them know where you’re going, who you’re with and when you leave Or even ask them if there’s anything they’ve heard about me We’ve had a couple drinks tonight, are you impaired? Are you stumbling? Are you fucked up? Or are you aware And coherent and quite capable of making decisions? Then cool, but I’ll keep asking for conviction And we go one, two, three and to the four Though your words say yes, I’ma need a little more I know you want it when you react with intent But first I need that enthusiastic consent And we go four, three, two and to the one I’ll be checking checking in even after we’re done But before we progress, stop, before we undress I’ma need a lot more than a yes I don’t see the mere fact you flirt with me As a sealed contract of our sexual certainty It doesn’t matter what you said when you were sexting me It only matters how you say it when you’re next to me And I don’t care if we’ve done it before Or if earlier we made out on the dance floor For if tonight you change your mind, fall asleep or say stop Then that’s when this stops But this isn’t just about your consent to my desires Let’s talk about what you want and what lights your fire You want me begging? (I’m into it) In leggings? (I’m into it) Are you interested in pegging? (Into it) This could be amazing once concerns are assuaged And we’re good, giving and game and on the same page Everything in black and white and crystal clearer than day No blurred lines, no shades of grey And we go one, two, three and to the four Though your words say yes, I’ma need a little more I know you want it when you react with intent But first I need that enthusiastic consent And we go four, three, two and to the one I’ll be checking checking in even after we’re done But before we progress, stop, before we undress I’ma need a lot more than a yes And we go five, six, seven to the eight No means no is never up for debate And the lack of a no isn’t the same as a yes And a yes isn’t the same as an oh my god, yes And if that sentiment is expressed We can indulge to excess or only caress But before we progress, stop, before we undress I’ma need a lot more than a yes When I ask “you wanna?” you say “yes” When I ask “this ok?” you say “oh, yes” When I ask “into it?” you say “fuck yes” When I ask “keep going?” you say “no” Well, then this is done
6.
Coffee 02:47
Tumble out of bed, and then I stumble to the kitchen Pour a cup of motherfucking ambition And then another one, and then another one And then I tell myself yo, time to go, I’m getting nothing done And then another one, and hit the ground running Eyeballs vibrating, blood pumping Make it three blocks, stop into a shop, and then another one I ain’t even teasing, barista, keep them coming I’ve done dozens of substances dumped them into my brain I’ve snorted meth, smoked crack, done a ton of cocaine I’ve used painkillers, booze, smoked an acre of weed But the drug I’ll never quit, the only one that I need Is that coffee – there’s just never enough Of that coffee – hot black god in a cup I need coffee – when I’m off and unstable Bring me coffee – just leave the pot on the table Been addicted for forever, I remember when we’d call A pot of coffee mixed with bong rips a hippie speedball You got what I need, you say that I’m just a fiend While I’m doing lines of Turkish grind, chewing on robusta beans And you must’ve seen me at the Dunkin’ D Bench-pressing French presses, high functioning Ain’t got a problem, and I’m not gonna stop Come on pop on a fresh pot and keep on topping me off I’ve tried religion and philosophy, karate in lessons Meditation, astrology, lots of anti-depressants I’ve tried every known sex act and tried them all twice But none of them touch my most reliable vice And that’s coffee – give your insides a hug With that coffee – like liquid love in a mug I need coffee – at its worst it’s still never bad Give me coffee – best friend I’ve ever had I’ll take it piping hot, I’ll take it on ice Line up those espresso shots, I’ll pay any price Yeah, I’ll take it right now, talk to me later, neighbor I’ll take it if a fish was in the percolator, hater Take it in sorbet, take it with Bailey’s Awakening heroic doses, I take them daily Bring another carafe, I’m ready for more But if you’re bringing decaf, we’re headed for war I’ve done dozens of substances, dumped them into my brain I’ve snorted meth, smoked crack, done a ton of cocaine I’ve used painkillers, booze, smoked an acre of weed But the drug I’ll never quit, the only one that I need Is that coffee – there’s just never enough Of that coffee – hot black god in a cup I need coffee – when I’m off and unstable Bring me coffee – just leave the pot on the table Yo, I get a bloody nose huffing nutty overtones Sucking down another cup, buzzing like a junkie’s phone Giggling idiot, I tickle both funny bones Feel like Jackpots, looking like Dougie Jones Cold overdosing going for another one And then another one at 3am, I’m never done Wide awake shaking, I should be in my bed And then another one, fuck it, y’all, I’ll sleep when I’m dead
7.
Now tell me have you ever died before? Have you ever realized your life was no more? Have you ever looked down from up high in the sky And watched your loved ones cry as they all bid you goodbye? Well, I have. I’ve died in numerous ways Hell, I die every other time I step on a stage I’ve died in my dreams, killed by things bigger than me I’ve died a million times, but never literally And so I don’t know what resides on the other side After we die, and know what? Nobody else does either Despite no lack of answers from our world’s religions With their ideas based in ancient fantasy fiction I know we’re born then we grow then we’re old then we’re bored Then we fight to the death and we die by the sword Our world turns black, but a bright light calls And we move into it as our final curtain falls Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die So raise your glasses high 'cause we’re all gonna die There’s nothing to fear, baby, no reason to cry Just live the hell out of your life and never stop to ask why I’m asking for ashes, I’m all dust or bust There’s not a single theory about the afterlife I can trust Like what if they’re right, and there really is a heaven With all angels and virgins and clouds, seven seven seven And ever at peace, and everyone’s so goddamn nice And for this everything in my life was sacrificed Forever and ever, for a life without sin? Well, fuck that and fuck heaven, now I’ll never get in Hell is the alternative, the religious version and An eternal life of Satanic subservience Submerged in a fiery lake of brimstone, no I know I’m evil, but I’d never, no I’d never wanna go But if they’re right, and I do go when my life ends At the very least I’ll know that in hell I’ll have friends Maybe the big guy and I’ll learn to get along Perhaps Old Scratch will even like this song Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die You in the back there, you’re gonna die Throw your hands up in the front ‘cause you’re gonna die Everybody outside walking by’s gonna die It’s useless to resist the cold chill of death’s trappings The reaper comes violent or silently while you’re napping I might even die while I’m on the mic rapping When the breath has left the flesh, we all know what happens Our bodies grow stiff and cold like mold in a kitchen Our corpses spend quality time alone with morticians Poked, prodded, embalmed and who knows what else Then we’re painted till we barely even look like ourselves Displayed in a casket, gasped at by those who weep Driven to a cemetery, buried six feet deep Or placed into an oven where our bodies are burned Reduced to nothing but ashes which are gathered in urns Sometimes scattered rather than stashed in a drawer Often left unclaimed like all the Does in a morgue Unless you’re a twin or half a suicide pact You’re born alone, you’ll die alone, that’s a fact We all are slowly dying from the time of our birth When the heart stops beating, we return to the earth But first join in a chorus for the void is before us Before our final performance as corpses with rigor mortis Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die So raise your glasses high ‘cause we’re all gonna die There’s nothing to fear, baby, no reason to cry Just live the hell out of your life and never stop to ask why Hey hey hey, everybody, we’re all gonna die So raise your glasses high ‘cause we’re all gonna die There’s nothing to fear, baby, no reason to cry Just live the hell out of your life and never stop to ask why
8.
Clouds 03:12
I see you struggling, I see you’re stressed and You try to hide your suffering, but I’m your best friend I see the hurt and disappointment in your joylessness Swallowing your anger and your sadness, and it’s poisonous And every morning you rise to fight your battle again You try to focus on the good or else the bad will get in But there is help, there’s a fix for every problem known I hope you know that there is hope in this, you’re not alone You feel it all around yourself When your thoughts pour and spill like your mind has floored the throttle Take the little orange pills that you find in orange bottles You know it's yours and no one else When the cues to flight still come noon and night and awful Take the blue and white pills in the blue and white bottles You feel the thought of learning again, it's all around All along, near, above and underground You're tired of all the things you did, you'll work it out You truly belong here with us among the clouds Now isn’t that better? It’s like a teething ring Now you can function, but you no longer feel a thing Delete your spark so you can start to let the rest in Like you won the worst badge attached it with the best pin When you’re in the clouds, imagine that it’s heaven As your AJ6 enables Code Force Seven Take solace, you got this, I gotta fight a battle too I gotta go, but I promise, Lo, I’ll come back for you You feel it all around yourself When your thoughts pour and spill like your mind has floored the throttle Take the little orange pills that you find in orange bottles You know it's yours and no one else When the cues to flight still come noon and night and awful Take the blue and white pills in the blue and white bottles You feel the thought of learning again, it's all around All along, near, above and underground You're tired of all the things you did, you'll work it out You truly belong here with us among the clouds We won’t be goners, this won’t destroy us We would be honored if you would join us The time you’ve squandered has left you voiceless We would be honored if you would join us Life is stronger, no longer pointless We would be honored if you would join us Time for the Bacta, no more avoidance We would be honored if you would join us
9.
Father 04:13
There is a house in a town called Brooks And in ’45 a boy was born and blessed with good looks And charm, his father was Laverne Sr., but everybody Called him “Jocko,” everybody called his new junior “Buddy” And Buddy’s mother was Lottie Veronica, and after she’d Had Nellie Diane, Buddy rounded out the family When Jocko got a job with the county, it was time To move the Schaffers into Corning, it was ‘59 And Buddy was a teen drawing hot rods, listening to rock songs Cracking jokes, but then it was not long Before at 21, when the fun ended fast For even Buddy’s bad ear couldn’t save him from the draft And that’s when Buddy went to Vietnam on his mission To serve in the Airborne 101st Division A helicopter gunner hovering above Saigon Buddy from Iowa could see that his childhood was gone A class clown joker always looking for fun A drinking smoker with a baby boy, he only had one And he is his father’s son A smart-ass trouble maker since he was young Hard-living sarcastic sharp-tongued son of a gun And I am my father’s son Bud became a man among the battle and the madness But when he got back, he brought back some baggage and bad habits Scrapping, tossed out the local tavern, his palace And that is around the time when Bud met Alice In six months they were married, March of ‘71 And moved into a little house with her 6-year-old son It was three years before by a stroke of fate, see In ’74 when Bud and Alice made me And his quartet dwelled for five years on 6th Street He was working at the garage or sipping beers and fishing Soon his habits turned to problems, booze and coke Jocko passed away, Bud’s family unit broke And after his divorce, he moved back in with his mom And continued to use, a short fuse on a ticking bomb Crashed some cars, broke some hearts, man, people are strange Bud from Iowa could see it was time for a change A class clown joker always looking for fun A drinking smoker with a baby boy, he only had one And he is his father’s son A smart-ass trouble maker since he was young Hard-living sarcastic sharp-tongued son of a gun And I am my father’s son By 1981, Dad’s life had grown messy Then a woman named Ramona came along like a blessing Lovely and kind, a sign that life could be better But first and for himself he had to get his act together And that first step that he so needed in the worst way He checked into rehab on his son’s 10th birthday Clean and sober, he’d never felt more alive Moved to Des Moines with Ramona, married in ‘85 He went from treatment straight to training and in ’90 became A certified addiction counselor, a life with new aim Worked in hospitals and prisons helping other troubled persons His demons hadn’t beaten him, instead they gave him purpose Laverne Dean “Bud” Schaffer Jr. is a survivor A veteran and a healer, Mr. Fix-It like MacGuyver A gamer and a runner and a man with many titles A bad motherfucker, my dad and my idol A class clown joker always looking for fun A drinking smoker with a baby boy, he only had one And he is his father’s son A smart-ass trouble maker since he was young Hard-living sarcastic sharp-tongued son of a gun And I am my father’s son
10.
Yo, we never even knew where they came from Maybe the ocean floor or so say some Others speculated that they came from outer space All we know is that they did come upon the planet’s face Those monsters, horrible things With gaping jaws, razor sharp claws and wings All covered in fur, feathers and nails, lizardish scales With tails they dragged behind them leaving glistening trails They emerged like something straight from our worst dreams Sirens started sounding at the sounds of the first screams Panic in the streets as people ran lest they got caught Crying out, “what fresh hell hath our god wrought?” Locked up all our doors, cocked our guns and we called cops Loaded up our shelters with supplies, pulled out all stops But none of that was necessary, seems we were in luck ‘Cause the monsters weren’t interested in us, they just want to fuck Monsters – creeping, crawling, shrieking, balling All those fucking monsters Horrible things They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming They were fuck monsters, yeah, monsters who fuck monsters Like sci-fi creatures from an X-rated Buck Rogers One-track reptilian brains fucking one another Stop, drop and roll, duck and cover, motherfucker Sex beasts with two backs in many pairs Going in and out of one another, fucking everywhere And even there in hiding spots, we shook to the core When we heard the monsters’ awful roar Each of them had ten dicks, ten clits and ten tits And countless freaky fingers fucking filling every orifice Ten pussies, ten assholes and ten mouths From which the thickest viscous ropes of drool would spill out They were sucking and fucking, choking and gagging, spitting, slapping Or jacking off watching the most graphic acts you can imagine Like some hentai kaiju with sex toys and everything Fuck, fill, enjoy anything Monsters – creeping, crawling, shrieking, balling All those fucking monsters Horrible things They’re coming, they’re coming, and then they’ll come again Monsters – feeding, gnashing, freaky, nasty Oh, those fucking monsters Horrible things They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming And soon we had a global epidemic on our hands But our noblemen and presidents and priests had hatched a plan Phoned up France, warned them to pass on the bloody wrath Tuned in Tokyo, told them to just clear a fucking path Since they never slept or ate, they only topped or bottomed With caution we watched some monsters drop from exhaustion When one would fall from fatigue, the others, no doubt Would crawl inside its dead body and fuck their way out Twisted into 69s and triple DPs These beasties brought themselves to rug-burned bloody knees They fucked themselves to death, and it was heard on the tube They left behind ponds of cum, streets slick and sticky with lube And a whole lot of monster bodies that were gathered and burned You may ask with some concern, “but did they ever return?” Well, two of them remained, and they’ve been here all along They just donned some human costumes, now they’re singing this song Monsters – creeping, crawling, shrieking, balling Oh, we’re fucking monsters Horrible things We’re coming, we’re coming, and then we’ll come again Monsters – feeding, gnashing, freaky, nasty Oh, we’re fucking monsters Horrible things We’re coming, we’re coming, we’re coming, we’re coming
11.
Lyrics by Phil Collins (1981).
12.
Come and set me These chains on me won't let me be You got the keys, come rescue me These chains on me won't let me be You got the keys, come set me free Come set me free, come set me free You got the keys, come rescue me Come set me free, come set me free You got the keys, come rescue me Hey, what up? That’s what the kids’ll say When I grip the mic and let all the spittle spray I’ve been at this for ages, I’ve come a little way As I fist pump my way into my middle age And I’ve uncovered some fallacies along the way And I’ve encountered some challenges from every way One thing I’ve learned from taking damages every day Is at the very least, I am good at making lemonade From these rotten lemons I am often given I am swimming In a pond of venom with very some awful men and women Trimming minutes off my life, I ain’t sinking, I am winning I ain’t quitting, I am kicking, I won’t hit the bottom with them I will stand very tall, living large, love it all Holler back, do the job, MPFM, RoboRob Throbbing like techno, sobbing? Aw, heck no Roller skate, disco, let’s go, yo I’ve been trip tripping how I’m slip slipping now I’m Sick of it, a liberal fill of it, dip dipping out I’m Gone, I was never here, smoke bomb disappear Listen to invisible idiots, kick kicking out I’ve Slipped cruxifixes into vampires’ hands when I’ve shaken them Given truth to fixes when the liars act on erasing them But now I’m isolated and I can finally find some silence as an island of a man I will go it solo, I will roll alone with no one, no and though The road is cold and lonely, I will know I chose the only One that I can trust, a just belief that I don’t stop believing People leave you nothing needed, fuck them, brother, I don’t need them Once in darkness, living in night Though I still got a bark, it’s not as bad as my bite And I still hate my enemies with all of my spite I need youze, Mylene Cruz, to show me the light Come on Whoever says he’s in the light and hates his brother Is still in darkness, still in darkness through the night Above all we gotta love each other deeply ‘Cause love, love, love does the most to the city My lips will shout for joy when I sing praise of you When I can feel you inside And I will ascend above the highest of the clouds And make myself the most high Hi, hi, whoa whoa, wait wait, what what happened? I was just rapping, I was just having a good time And then my shell started cracking Everything started unraveling Scramble to gather up the pieces of the mess of my life That I made when they all got scattered I lie and I cry and I just wanna die But I know no way I ain’t letting that happen Oh no everybody chill a second I’ma get this trainwreck in check I reckon I’ma go no more woe is me self-pity I’ma get myself a little speck of perspective and check it Both broken and broke but the fact Is that I got a lot of people that have got my back And I’m in good hands when my family, my friends and my fans Come rescue me Come set me free, come set me free You got the keys, come rescue me Come set me free, come set me free (I will stand very tall, I won’t hit the bottom with them) You got the keys, come rescue me (I will stand very tall, I won’t hit the bottom with them) And I will ascend above the highest of the clouds And make myself, and make myself Like the most high

about

Junk Drawer Vol. 2 is a collection of material created between 2006 and 2017 that has never been properly released. These songs are covers or remixes or contain easily identifiable samples.

credits

released October 31, 2017

Track #1 (2017) – Contains samples from CFO$’s “Destroyer” (WWE Samoa Joe entrance theme). Vocals recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #2 (2016) – Contains full instrumental and lyrics from Beastie Boys’ “Skills to Pay the Bills.” Live performance intro recorded at The Geek Easy in Orlando, FL 04/29/2016. Vocals recorded 2016.

Track #3 (2014) – Collaborative track with Adam WarRock originally recorded over White Shadow’s “Untouchable” beat and released on WarRock's Bandcamp in 2013. During our 2014 tour we edited Weezer's "Beverly Hills" to use as a live instrumental for the song. Unfortunately, WarRock retired from rapping before we had a chance to re-record our vox over the new beat, so I recorded both of our vocal parts for this release. Contains samples and chorus lyrics from Weezer’s “Beverly Hills.” Lyrics from “Mark & Eugene,” a collaborative single with Adam WarRock (2013). Vocals re-recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #4 (2017) – Contains samples from DJ Raff’s “Latino & Proud” (title theme from Comedy Central’s “Broad City”). Vocals recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #5 (2016) – Original track released on “Sex Rhymes” (2015). Features additional call and response vocals by Bunny Buxom. Remixed by RoboRob 2016.

Track #6 (2017) – Contains samples from Adrian Younge & Ali Shaheed Muhammad’s “Theme” (title theme from Marvel’s “Luke Cage”), “Ghostbusters” (1984), “Thor” (2011) and “Twin Peaks: Season 1, Episode 2” (1990). Vocals recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #7 (2006) – Originally recorded and released on a limited run demo CD sold on tour in 2006, this track was one of my late mother's favorite STD songs. Contains samples from Buena Vista Social Club’s “Chan Chan.” Vocals re-recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #8 (2017) – Contains samples and chorus lyrics from Washed Out’s “Feel It All Around” (title theme from IFC’s “Portlandia”). Vocals recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #9 (2014) – Originally recorded for abandoned “Iowa” EP (2014). Contains samples from The Animals’ “House of the Rising Sun.” Beat loops by Mikal kHill. Vocals re-recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #10 (2016) – Original track released on “Sex Rhymes" (2015). Features additional vocals by Bunny Buxom. Remixed by Eli Grove 2016.

Track #11 (2017) – Contains melody and lyrics from Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight.” All instruments performed using a Boss Dr. Rhythm DR-5 drum machine with a midi keyboard. Vocals recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Track #12 (2017) – Contains samples and chorus lyrics from Herizen Guardiola’s “Set Me Free” (from the soundtrack of Netflix’s “The Get Down”). Remix by Warson. Features additional vocals by Broadway Brassy. Vocals recorded 2017. Mixed by Vince Vandal.

Album cover photo and post-production by Ben Trivett.
Album cover photo shoot continuity by Bunny Buxom.
Mastered by Cecil Decker.

Unless otherwise indicated, all material written, performed, recorded, mixed and produced by Schaffer the Darklord.

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Schaffer the Darklord

Schaffer the Darklord (or STD) is a New York City-based rapper and comedian with material best-suited for brainy and/or drug- addled audiences. With manic energy, verbose vocabulary and cartoonishly commanding stage presence, STD skewers such topics as hedonistic substance abuse, sexual compulsion, urban anxiety and obsessive cat-enthusiasts. ... more

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