Dulcinea

Dulcinea

Smarturl.it/dulcinea

I want to build a wall

Get ‘em out

I.C.E.

Bad bad people

I.C.E.

Bad bad people people

One of my drug lords

I.C.E.

Get ‘em out

Bad bad people people people

We’re going to get them out

We’re (I.C.E.) going to secure the

Bad bad hombres hombres hombres

Anyway, can I buy you a drink?

Yeah I know I’m just nineteen,

But my Indian friend supplied me with his ID

And we all look the same to whitey

So let’s mix the Hi-C with the Goose

Let your body get loose

Like it’s swinging from a noose

In the back of a caboose

In the end all of us lose

Won’t you give me an excuse

To be the one to lose with you?

Anyway, can I buy you a drink?

Yeah I know we just met,

But I think we’re on the brink

Let me take you to the Met

Let me fuck you on the sink (whoops)

I beg you to forget

Sometimes I forget to think

Let me make you a baguette

With the kind of queso that’s stinky

Have you heard my SoundCloud yet?

I’d love to pass you a link and

I know it’s condescending to infantilize you

But won’t you let me be your binky?

Baby, you could be my Dulcinea (Dulcinea)

Maybe, you and me could leave this place together? (Together, oh)

Baby, you could be my Dulcinea (Dulcinea)

Maybe you and I could stay here forever (forever)

You’re hotter than the planet in 2050 and

Tell me what you’re doing standing there

And not dancing with me?

I wanna see your sea levels rise

Ain’t good at swimming, but I know I’ll survive

‘Cause I’ll hold onto something drifting

Like Leo in the Titanic

If I’m Romeo, you are Claire Danes

If you’re the caesar, I am germanic

If you’re the GMO, I’m the organic

You shit on me in every regard

But opposites attract; there’s magnetism here

You have every reason to be on your guard

Ominous the fallacy that I must adhere

To the whims of the phallus

Don’t mean to be callous

You look fine as Pallas

Athene, here’s a chalice

Follow me to my palace

You and me will blow the ballasts

And we’ll sink into the sea

Until we see Atlantis

Baby, you could be my Dulcinea (Dulcinea)

Maybe, you and me could leave this place together? (Together, oh)

Baby, you could be my Dulcinea (Dulcinea)

Maybe you and I could stay here forever (forever)


Cover art by Grant Pace

Written and produced by Angelo Hernandez-Sias

Back vocals by Sammie Williams

Released June 8, 2018

Welcome to the Hamptons (feat. Kate Huizinga)

Welcome to the Hamptons (feat. Kate Huizinga)

smarturl.it/hamptons

Why do I wake up in the morning?
All I wanna do is fly
Do you hesitate to look me in my out-of-focus eyes
When I ask you if you’ve got another slice of pecan pie
On the side

This is Neo Yokio and you can call me Kaz Kaan
The privilege and the emptiness
They prolly go in tandem
You think the president give a damn about his grandson?
We damned, son
Welcome to the Hamptons

My mama told me not to center life around you
Cause it’s unfair for you to pick me off the ground
I promise that I never meant for you to drown too
And yes, I carry your Novembers in my frown

I’m tryna make some friends
I’m tryna make amends
I know if i’m in jail that
I’m the one who got me in
Don’t gotta say it (yeah)
I kinda wanna live
But life, it makes me cringe
All the hipsters wanna sit and binge their blue ribbon
Only the greatest (Pabst)

This is Neo Yokio and you can call me Kaz Kaan
The privilege and the emptiness
They prolly go in tandem
You think the president give a damn about his grandson?
We damned, son
Welcome to the Hamptons

Why do I wake up in the morning?
All I wanna do is fly
Do you hesitate to look me in my out-of-focus eyes
When I ask you if you’ve got another slice of pecan pie
On the side

Fist up but my ass out
Activist but my inaction castin' mad doubt
Preaching now wit my speakers loud
Still second guessing what I’m speaking 'bout
Least I’m speaking out, where I’m from it’s hush
They don’t whip you they just tell the pack to mush
Isn’t blatant but they actin' up
Swear it’s something murky in that aqueduct
It’s like Jonestown, and I drank the punch
You don’t see it when you're busy growing up
Neighbors got the flags posted on the truck
Actin' decent round me, tryna show me love
Round here a different type of bluff
You don’t see it on the surface much
Mind my business with a 40 clutched
Till I’m in the booth and the light is up

This is Neo Yokio and you can call me Kaz Kaan
The privilege and the emptiness
They prolly go in tandem
You think the president give a damn about his grandson?
We damned, son
Welcome to the Hamptons

Why do I wake up in the morning?
All I wanna do is fly
Do you hesitate to look me in my out-of-focus eyes
When I ask you if you’ve got another slice of pecan pie
On the side

When I’m with you feel so nervous
I’m afraid that you’re my purpose
When I’m with you, need no service
I’m about to join the service
Fight a war against myself
Coming home my heart is purple
Feel it beat beneath the surface
Underneath the rigor mortis
Mama say I can’t afford this
I just turn on Rick and Morty
Throw a band aid on the sore
Tell myself I don’t deserve this
Entitlement, always worth it
Gotta learn something in college right?
Take shit and never return it
Snatched up my heart and claimed copyright
Damn
Snatched up my heart and claimed copyright
Thinking back on all those summer nights
You and me would lick the butterknives
On the face time but the butterflies
Left my estómago
Ahora me quedo en un sarcófago
Me diste un vaso de veneno y
Me dijiste “tómalo”
Damn
Snatched up my heart and claimed copyright
Thinking back on all those summer nights
You and me would lick the butterknives
On the face time but the butterflies
Left my estómago
Ahora me quedo en un sarcófago
Me diste un vaso de veneno y
Me dijiste “tómalo"

Cover art by Grant Pace
Vocals by Angelo Hernandez-Sias, Toby Ekpunobi (@toby-ekpunobi), and Kate Huizinga
Produced by Angelo Hernandez-Sias
Keys by Gabby Jones, sampling Chopin's Nocturne in Op. 9, No. 1, B flat minor
Recorded at Kwame Kamau's place
A special thanks to Julia Rocha for help during the recording process

Released February 25, 2017

Wilfredo (feat. Coldman)

Wilfredo (feat. Coldman)

smarturl.it/wilfredo

My dog died yesterday.
Not really but it's bound to happen.
I said I'd help him find his way,
That motherfucker started laughing
I told him that I wasn't playing
Just need someone to let me back in
He let his tongue glide on his face
He wagged his tail and started rapping:

One day we'll all be dead
and none of this will matter
All that goop up in your head
will turn to decomposing matter
All the blood shed
will turn into water for the earth to drink
so don’t you fret, give me a treat
and laugh a little fore you are deceased

What's a master without a ball?
What's a dogbone without the raw?
What's a scrotum without the balls?
Life, but I guess it's the luck of draw
“What draw?”
Well, there fucking isn’t one
Don’t tell me not to bark
I’m smoking cinnamon
You ugly pimpleface
You look like Zimmerman
Quit pleading innocent
Cause I been listening to you
That's right, I watch you when you’re intimate
I know the grunt you make when you are finishing
your dinner plate and don’t you go and get it twisted
Michigan cannot save you from your predicament:
Citizen, but illegitimate
Life is shit, you step in it, eat a bit
then the bitch next door giggles
and tells you that it's chocolate

One day we'll all be dead
and none of this will matter
All that goop up in your head
will turn to decomposing matter
All the blood shed
will turn into water for the earth to drink
so don’t you fret, give me a treat
and laugh a little fore you are deceased

I love without a reason to
I love you ‘cause you feed me food
You look at me but seeing you
You wonder what I see in you
If you only love me more
You’d never go to grocery stores
I worry you ain’t coming back
I wonder could I hump your leg
I wonder why you fear my death
I don’t even fear my death
I’m just living for the day
The only thing to fear is my breath
I’m here for a shorter stay
But that don’t make me feel no stress
I really don’t have more to say
It doesn’t matter anyway because…

One day we'll all be dead
and none of this will matter.
All that goop up in your head
will turn to decomposing matter.
All the blood shed
will turn into water for the earth to drink
so don’t you fret, give me a treat
and laugh a little fore you are deceased.

Laugh a little ‘fore you are deceased
Laugh a little ‘fore you are deceased
Laugh a little ‘fore you are deceased
Laugh a little ‘fore you are deceased

You ought to heed your parent’s advice:
“Worry a little less
don’t live life desirous
of other people’s success”
But everybody’s got their vices,
You’re no excep-tion.
No matter how hard you try
You’re a worry papillomavi-rus
Don’t call me Wilfred, I’ll fuck you up
I apologize, that wasn’t nice of me
Modesty has never been my specialty
I get tired seeing people treat retrievers like they’re prodigies
I’m no Socrates, but you hear my prophecy
Never pawn the poem for the prosody
Never trade the cheddar for the broccoli

Cover Art by Grant Pace
Trumpet by Jeevan Farias
Produced by Angelo Hernandez-Sias
Written by Angelo Hernandez-Sias and Coleman Hughes (@coldxman)

Released December 29, 2017

Dreams

Dreams

http://smarturl.it/dreams-qixote

Last night, I ate some yakisoba with my pops,
the panamanian weeaboo.
We sat in the dark until White Woman turned on the light
and asked “Excuse me, what you doing?”
My pops said that we, we wouldn’t any harm anyone,
that he would see it through.
She still kicked us out so we sat on a stoop and
talked through our shit, yes I mean me and you.

What does it mean
that I don't dream about you anymore?
I don't dream about you anymore
I don't dream about you anymore

In all of my dreams,
la otra chica tiene mi amor,
la otra chica tiene mi amor.

Second time we met each other—
first time we did it.
I was so nervous that I couldn't breathe.
Ten months later and were driving the Civic .
(Yeah, the one that belongs to my mother)
Sun's in the sky, but I cannot see.
Feel the bones of the squirrel crunch when I hit it.
Looking at you from the driver’s seat, and
you're holding tears back just like we do when I hit it.
Feel like I'm that kid from It
Who's holding the poster in his hand that says that he's missing.
We both know about those days we'd spending kissing,
all the bubbles in our breasts fizzing.
This was the best prison.
Now when my lips are on yours,
I am thinking of her and you're thinking of him.
Your nails on my hips are sharp enough to
cut a red ribbon.

Remember when I used to want to hold your hand?
Now our fingers lock and all I feel is claminess.
I think I'm bad at this. (Ooh)
Everlasting love is nothing but a sham.
Psychologists would say that we're companionate. . .
Well let's be companions, then. (Ooh)
Time to pull the Christmas wrapping,
Time to stop the kidney stabbing.
I can't even understand the
language and I'm tryna rap it.
Never show a carrot a rabbit
unless the rabbit showed me my own casket,
then I’d pull the green tip from my jacket,
throw it into traffic,
watch it run and splatter
underneath a rubber tire.
Hold in all the tears (of laughter of course).
Sue the fucking driver
an analogy for you and I
(I'm the rabbit of course).

What does it mean
that I don't dream about you anymore?
I don't dream about you anymore
I don't dream about you anymore

In all of my dreams,
la otra chica tiene mi amor,
la otra chica tiene mi amor.

Ya no sueño contigo.
Ella viene conmigo.
El corazón es un abismo.
Soy el dueño del mío.

Ya no sueño contigo.
Ella viene conmigo.
El corazón es un abismo.
Soy el dueño del mío.

Written by Angelo Hernandez-Sias
Cover art by Grant Pace
Produced by Angelo Hernandez-Sias, Carlos Hernandez-Sias, and Gabby Jones
A special thanks to @coldxman for helping me record and Kwame Kamau for feedback on the mix.

Released October 29, 2017

Sidenote

Sidenote

smarturl.it/sidenote

Two a.m., I’m walking on the cobblestone —
on the phone with mama, can’t say I’m alone.
Inhaling pheromones from the sweater that you loaned to me—
it belongs to me. You belong to me. I belong to you;
that’s some bullshit (just like these songs to you).
Bet it dawned on you that I’m spawn of Lucifer —
Satan to you.

Both you and I know
that in the not so distant future I'm bound
to get drafted into the nuclear war.
Girl, if you find my suicide note
It's cause they tried to get me shooting up folk
it'll be in the handwriting of t-r-u-m-p's own.

Sorry bout the times I put you on blast;
That's that student-athlete-shit.
I hate to dwell upon the past
But if I'm Future, you're my Actavis.
In other words, I fear I love you more than I love words.
And girl it hurts for me to hear myself more than it burns
the heart of Mr. Burns—actually I don’t watch The Simpsons
So I’mma quit this. You and me are going North Korea:
Trying long distance; ain’t nothing like
the path of least resistance, right?
But all I do is pace around the house in boxers seeking purpose in existence. I
I I rolls funny cross the tongue,
like seagulls on the shore
like a fly upon the dung
like salt upon the sore
like a fly trapped in a window screen
I breathe the water from your pores
and feel it ripple into me;
And now that water’s in my lungs
But the lifeguard’s out for tea.

Both you and I know
that in the not so distant future I'm bound
To get drafted into the nuclear war
Girl, if you find my suicide note
It's cause they tried to get me shooting up folk
it'll be in the handwriting of t-r-u-m-p's own.

Summer ‘17, a nightmare or a dream?
Eight a day and five a week
With coffee-stained cushions beneath my ass cheeks.
I don’t take a lunch, just take a plate and stuff my face
And watch the pixelating screen.
Email email carbon copy copy copy
What am I, a cog in a machine?
The sun is setting; close the office down, hop into the CRV.
I grab a silver napkin from the glovebox and
wipe the tears from my eyes before they stream.
I start the car but keep the music off,
don’t want no reminders of what I’ll never be.
Spent a thousand on the sound system but tell me
what the fuck’s a dollar with no dream?
Apologies for all the shit I threw on you-and-me. You can
Eliminate from your to-do the truth of you resenting me.
I miss the way the south would dribble out you--apple from the pie,
But life is bland as sesame, and I just want to die.
I’m a . . . krabby patty and loyal customers gotta eat;
What’s the key to the secret recipe? Covfefe.

I say I’m going away.
But you don’t (you don’t) want no going-away.
I say I’m going away,
But you don’t (you don’t) want no go-away-play.
I say I’m going away.
But you don’t (you don’t) hold back, “Go, on your way.”
I say I’m going away,
You say, “I hope they crash your Boeing today.”

Both you and I know
that in the not so distant future I'm bound
to get drafted into the nuclear war.
Girl, if you find my suicide note
It's cause they tried to get me shooting up folk
it'll be in the handwriting of t-r-u-m-p's own.

Cover art by Mark Fleuridor
Written by Angelo Hernandez-Sias
Produced by Angelo Hernandez-Sias, Gabby Jones, & Carlos Hernandez-Sias
A big thanks to Mitch Anderson (www.blackcircleradio.com) for help with the mix.

Released August 4, 2017

alon(e)so: a mixtape

alon(e)so: a mixtape

smarturl.it/aloneso

All songs written and produced by Angelo Hernandez-Sias
Cover art by Mark Fleuridor
Mastered by Mitch Anderson (www.blackcircleradio.com)

Released April 20, 2017