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by Tonedeff

  • Streaming + Download

    "Underscore" has been out of print since 2004. A Collection of b-sides, unreleased tracks, and mixtape freestyles. The enhanced CD was created to prepare the public for Tonedeff's "Archetype" album.

    WHAT YOU GET: Immediate download of 16-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire. Proceeds go directly to the artist.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $8 USD  or more


Intro 00:41
TNT 02:25
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff Produced by: Domingo ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), Beatskillz (ASCAP) V1 – TONEDEFF It’s the marksman, armed with bars that scar from yards in/ Foul-mouth Latino, the Dark-skin Cartman/ Startling frauds, Skin ‘em for probable cause, Spit and I topple the gods, gimme applause, when my part starts to resolve/ Hearts’ll dissolve because my love’s acidic/ I’m urgin a bum to mimmick this surgical tongue precision I’ll burn him for fuckin with it/ Your sternum gets punched in and it’s crushed to ribbons, I snuff these timid/ Thugs in denim with tons of gimmicks of drugs & women, I’m done beginning/ I hunt for limits and I snipe ‘em/ Hung Mother Nature, from the family tree, now Father time thinks I don’t like him/ Let’s try some Isometric points of view/ Why do decrepit boys like you lie and profess their flow’s improved? When I be rippin’ it better than any of you can – regularly/ So, why don’t you just give up? Cause most of y’all niggas will never get better than me/ I’m indedbted to these cats like QN5 that set examples/ With original flows, over these digital lows and snare samples/ There’s ample proof, we’re hard to take/ It’s evident when cats tremble in our presence like epileptics doing the harlem shake/ Your ART is fake, and it’s troubling, yo/ There’s kids who think the underground just started with Company Flow/ Now we’re stuck with these shows, With 14-year olds and poser herbs/ Claiming their emcees, dropping their fumbled attempts at spoken word/ Who don’t deserve the recognition, but they’ll take it/ Cause when you had the chance and you didn’t say shit… you embraced it. It’s a basic truth, The Plague’s the crew We’re that anxious group of tasteless dudes that come to your show and can’t wait to boo/ Cause you overdo it, you feel me yet?/ Rocking a doorag with a headband and a cap that was fitted for Timmy’s head/ You silly bitches, it’s time for the detox/ Copycat rappers act like you got stock options at Xerox/ You’re shocked like you never planned to get caught? Ignorant dick, don’t know if Neptunes a planet or not/ Faggots! You’re hot under the collar like catholic fathers with they hands on their cocks/ Asking a kid if he’s a fan of the rock/I demand that you watch me Dismantle your block. See, I can’t ever stop because man never thought/ That he would develop a gift that would give him an understanding as he was taught/ We’ve amassed the assault, leave your ashes dissolved from burning/ QN5 Motherfucker, Tonedeff is the name – learn it!
Give A Damn 04:13
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff Produced by: Domingo ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), Beatskillz (ASCAP) CHORUS I don’t ‘give a damn’ When motherfuckers claim that they’re nice, and I don’t ‘give a damn’ About the record deal that you signed and I don’t ‘give a damn’ Bout chart positions paid for a price, and I don’t ‘give a damn’ About all of your media hype and I don’t ‘give a damn’ If your publicist got betta connects and I don’t ‘give a damn’ About the fuckin the spot that you rep and I don’t ‘give a damn’ If you roll 50 deep for respect and I don’t ‘give a damn’ I really don’t ‘give a damn’ bitch. V1 – TONEDEFF Gimme this microphone, and stand clear/ As I tear into this bitch like I fucked up a papsmear/ Cat’s stear outta my way and split as I switch to my fast gear/ The fact’s clear Rappers, they act queer, lappin’ up ass hair/ Yappin like “That’s fierce”, Man, I’m agasp here/ Saddened by acts whose only buzz was gotten from 50 glasses of Pabst beer/ Man, I’m stacked like I jacked Sears/ After I smack you with brass bats, mallets and stacked chairs, you can ask me if that’s fair/ You repeated the deeds you seen after me last year/ Cheated with theivery, greed and misleading tactics, that’ve actually matched rare & elusive elements of my steez, very conclusive evidence leading me back here/ So I pillage like Black Beard/ Hands near your bitch’s brazier, until her nipples stand air And hit some frequencies you can’t hear without a bat’s ear/ And that serious, mad furious, amped, scary, and brash, sneering/ and every fucking adjective that’ll push you past fear/ My wrath spares artisans who practice the craft with tact, whereas/ You would never to my standards adhere/ Shit, I had to hire an accountant and a cashier/ Cause Tonedeff, got so many hoes riding the dick, that I’m charging em cab fare/ And while I tap rears, rappers amass tears/ As they learn how to play the skin flute, while rockin the box set from Zamphyr/ With a fat kielbasa to grasp, yeah? You bout as hip as them pink pajamas your dad wears… laugh at your wack pair. (Bitch, I don’t) V2 – TONEDEFF For pete’s sake, I’m grief laden, need faith Keep saying, “He’s fake,” when you sound commercial, like “You Can Eat Cake”/ Now Please face the other town – leave… great/ Beef? Hey, you wig gets pushed back more than underground released dates/ Your teamplay’s what we say’s an exercise in simplicity/ You cry whenever you miss a rerun of Felicity/ You sweet as crispy creme, the media feeds you a glitzy Dream Been taken advantage of like Giddy Teens with 50 Whisky Drinks/ I’m nifty with these things. Top pick/ Tonedeff : The wide receiver with elastic arms…son, you know I got this/ I constantly knock shit, not superstitious/ but that’s part of the process, I dine, you do the dishes/ Now, it’s obvious right kid? Calls in tonite? Then It’s prolly your wife, so just pardon me right quick/ You’re hardly a fight, bitch/ Sorry? Now bite this/ I’m as awnry as bikers with harleys and pipes gripped/ You nice kid? You’re part of the crisis… worse than a biter/ You’re a wack rapper’s cock rider/ Inspite of lying, Even your stage show’s disgraceful/ See, you’re that one nigga that’s on the cell at the movies, cause whole the audience hates you/ See, your folly is painful to watch, You’re out for pussy? Just stuff your face in your crotch, gargle and toss your cookies/ I’m harmful to lots of persons far & near/ Lace verse with so many curses that my clean versions sound like ‘Paul Revere’/ Now don’t stall and tell me the public’s got the true taste/ Cause if they like you, they’re dumb enough to eat a blue steak/ Fuck the debate of who’s real & who’s fake! Cause when I’m all in your grill/ Son… I really won’t kill you, but you’ll swear to god that I will/ So just gimme a beat and a time and a place/ If you hid in retreat, then I’ll find you where you stay with a team of divers, grenades/ And claws equipped. Nobody even bought your shit/ Cause you’re the type that went to an allboy school, and everybody still called you a dick/ END CHORUS I don’t ‘give a damn’, About the verse you wrote to battle me, and I don’t ‘give a damn’ If your jealousy makes you mad at me and I don’t ‘give a damn’ If you rap cause your peoples have to eat, and I don’t ‘give a damn’ You ain’t grown out your hood mentality and I don’t ‘give a damn’ If you got 97inch rims and I don’t ‘give a damn’ About your fashion victim ass friends and I don’t ‘give a damn’ About all of these 5-minute trends and I don’t ‘give a damn’ about you I really don’t ‘give a damn’ Oh, word? You Did time? So What. Oh Shit, he’s producing it? So What. Oh Shit, he signing with who? So What.
Bring It 04:01
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff Produced by: Tonedeff ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), Beatskillz (ASCAP) CHORUS If you really want it… I can bring it to ya/ If you really want it… I can bring it to ya/ If you really want it… I can bring it to ya/ So, make up your mind, cause I’m itching to move through ya/ V1 – TONEDEFF You have never heard this flow before/ Hold your soul in and then close the door/ Shut it tight, ‘cause I bring that raw hardcore/ Dirty flow to pump and leave your heart sore/ I’m sure the rhythms and the rhymes are pure/ The lyrical auteur to pitiful sophomores/ Emcee wannabes that all got tours/ Prepare to surrender your shit and fall to all fours/ This is yet another redefinition of the emcee/ With a view to a kill no matter what the lens see/ I focus on flawed imaginations that’s empty/ And devoid of funk, pre-eminently/ I’ve bent the original rules of rhyming so that nothing prevents me/ Cause the drum & the bass tempt me/ I’ve sent these words in verse, so, evidently you’re done/ Cause I refuse to bring it to you gently. V2 – TONEDEFF You can call me the freeze-frame shutterbug/ Cause I’ll stop you dead in your tracks and snap your picture while I’m at it/ I’ve had it up to here with the static and the jeers/ Response from my peers is automatic wreaking havoc on your ears/ Been rapping for years, mastered every aspect/ Of this craft, that I’m saddened to say is stagnant/ I be laughing at half-wits, just coming to grasp with/ Vocabulary patterns that’s average, as I play with Symantecs/ Famous for tactics, Lines that I – say with a passion age into classics/ All while entertaining the masses/ Drastic measures are implemented all in your head/ The sandman to put em to sleep and then swallow the bed/ I never, follow the trends, I’ll bend whatever you set/ I’ll embody your style, and dismember your rep/ Inventive and set on revising, revolutionizing the gears in this mega-machine/ The appointed head of the team/ Set on defeating the feeble, Completion is the true test T-o-n-e-d-e-double-the-F, who’s next? V3 – TONEDEFF Push forth, That’s what this Jux’ for/ Never fall for these crooks with more titles bookstores/ Always scheming on good scores, creaking on wood floors/ But peep ‘em and their hook’s horse-shit, and their look’s poor/ Bordering on absurdity, Served the underground for an eternity Yet, certainly most radio stations ain’t never heard of me/ Thirty-percent of these niggas is flossing/ The other seventy’s thugging, emulating whatever they’re watching/ Caution, lost one, ain’t you see the sign? Music’s redefined/ Just read between the lines/ I’m bringing my expertise of extra heat, To melt this ice age at the hundred and 10th degree/ Preventing me from accomplishing this is inexplicably devious thinking/ Like shooting holes in a boat as you’re sinking/ Odds of survival, reduced to those of finding decent delinquents/ If you stand in the way of progression, I’m pleased to bring it.
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff, Deacon The Villain & Kno Produced by: Kno ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), Mark Makers Music (ASCAP) Taken from CunninLynguists – “Southernunderground” LP CHORUS Traces of love, long ago… that didn’t work out. V1 – TONEDEFF Love ain’t for the faint of heart. || Start Training, this game is hard/ And arduous, || You’re gonna play in the dark like when it rains in the park/ You’re hardly conscious of the stains and scars, enabling your partly clouded logic/ To pay to impart bliss with arrangements of chocolates/ Now, || You’re working yourself out the same as when you strain with a nautilus/ And you’re willing to embrace pain facing sustained negative consequence/ If nothing you say when in love is embedded with common sense/ Then, do you really regret when you’ve shredded your promises?/ Now, I’ve tested the waters, kid. Sipped it; rippled the pond a bit/ Visits have been abolished, and this shit’s killing my confidence/ Is this filling your conscience when distance is an accomplishment?/ If you miss chicks when they’re around, the phrase “Let’s quit” isn’t an option/ You best fix whatever’s wrong and just move on and get on with it/ Cause, You’ll catch bigger fish in the sea if you manage not to drown in it/ It’s sad, but proud or not, most your standards go down a notch/ When loneliness drinks at the bar you set too high, Cause, It isn’t really my time, is it? Shit…I just found the watch/ But hearing the bell toll for me twice a day, has me fearing my grandfather clock/ And I can’t die without trying. My hands tied in knots/ Knowing that I’ll never learn to brave the waves if I stand by the docks/ Love is hampered by thought, if you can handle the prospect of Death – it’s as massive a shock. And To intellects, it’s a fuckin’ smack in the crotch/ It’s a cancer that rots your soul, tosses demons off of the road/ Just use caution and know, that, love ain’t nothing but a loss of control. Off then, we go. Chorus V2 – DEACON THE VILLAIN Love’ll have you nervous, doing stupid shit on purpose brain out of service, words slurred when you blurt shit… studderin’, utterin’ non-sensical shit in your verses.. feeling like a shirtless, 4-breasted woman in a circus… furthurly trying to gap an unfillable void… because of parents never transfering that unbillical joy… so girls create a false world of filling on boys.. exploited, guys playing with her heart like her feelings are toys… but when you have it.. there’s nothing like it, you get excited… seeking those who provide it, on phones talking to psychics… some fear it… spend their entire lives trying to fight it… living in a confusing Hayes, like they’re grooving to Isaac… it ain’t the end of the rainbow with a treasure chest and a map… it ain’t easily learnable with definitions in tact… it can ride your train of though and demolitions your tracks… hittin’ and bullwhippin you, leavin’ them slits in your back… but i’ve been a lucky one.. loving parents, loving friends… but i still spend alot of my life loving sin… but I ain’t a genious on it, I can only pretend… cause over all it’s an emotion I can not comprehend.. it’s love. Chorus V3 – KNO Love aint the basis for action In a nation of addicts pacing and waiting for seconds of satisfaction Where the word itself is only fashioned in fits of passion Hand in hand with animalistic orgasmic reaction and the past isn’t felt as a match made in hell But rather its held as a latter day meld Of common mistakes and nice intentions But when false love retention is simply vice invention Its only right to mention the fights you get in Nightly visions of these Tina and Ike revisions So Whats Love really Got To Do With It? From prude women to stool pidgeons in soup kitchens The truth isn’t as eloquent so be intelligent Getting caught out of your element just for the hell of it’s irrelevant And that word’ll fit like a glove if you don’t get right, now live your life for the love or stop Chorus
Shag! 03:34
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff Produced by: Domingo ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), Beatskillz (ASCAP) Hook A Come on, baby, I’m a rolling stone/ Don’t wanna conversate, I wanna take ya home/ And if ya, wanna take a pony ride, it’s on! I wanna Shag, Baby! I wanna Shag baby! Hook B Shag! You know you want it. Shag! You know you’re fiendin’ for it. Shag! Come on, get on it! Shag! I feel your body heatin. Shag! Cause I’m a swinger. Shag! And I just wanna please ya. Shag! You know you want it. Shag! You know you’re fiendin’ for it. V1 – TONEDEFF Hey Ladies! Ayo, it’s time to wild out/ Slide on ya tight blouse, and dress like it was 105 out/ Y’all coming to my house, and we going shag, baby! Mad Crazy, Stacked ladies, (You gonna call me tomorrow?), yeah, Maybe/ Hey Fellas! Don’t miss the call to come through/ There’ll be about 70 women, that’s wall to wall and are ready to jump you! Son, you ain’t seen these chicks cloggin the stairwells/ Flaunting their bare selves. The situation’s sticker than Mary’s hair gel/ You’ll have to wear bells to find your way back to the heads that you came with/ And spit game with a blindfold without bumpin into the same chick/ Down in the basement, they got lace, whips… and up on the rooftop/ We be keeping the goods hot, cause ladies know we’ve got the wood stocked/ It’s all love. But don’t expect your valentine’s this year/ Remember to spread the joy with pals of mine when they get here/ And it’s clear, you’re bout to get your ‘hot-zone’ showered/ The name is Tonedeff. But you can call me Austone Powers… Cause I’m a swinger baby! Chorus V2 – TONEDEFF Let’s keep it moving y’all. Hey, to hell with your inhibitions/ Really nobody’s watching – you can tell from the mixed positions/ Distance isn’t a factor, when ya bodies are stacked up/ Especially when the jacuzzi is packed & there’s fat bastards trapped in the bathtub/ I be asking for backrubs and receiving a full body massage/ Hey, I’m shagadelic! That’s my hobby & job/ If you don’t wanna be down, then you’re probably a snob/ get out & get gone/ Or show me Victoria’s secrets – without the bra & the thong/ You be knockin my boxers off! (Let’s Play Doctor)... You visit me! Strip and shimmy, please, I need to examine you physically/ I’m an International man of mystery, I shag and then “poof” Got Carmen Sandiego wondering where In the world I went to/ I sent you the invite to this function/ You know – the one with the pic of my bedroom they use for kama-sutra instructions/ You wanna get hustling on this rush for lust? You can ride with us/ My Goldmember’s got the midas touch!
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff Beatbox by: Rahzel ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP) Taken from Rahzel’s – “Greatest Knockouts: Volume One” LP V1 – TONEDEFF Now, creep with me, as we roll with the undisputed heavyweight/ Of beatboxing, as he drops the hotness/ Constantly, with the frenzy of a mosh pit/ Clock, But you don’t have to order pay-per-view to watch this/ Astonishingly polished solid sonic concoction/ Hear it..But still probably wouldn’t believe it with your optics/ Shopping? Might as well go for the best, there are no options/ Locksmiths couldn’t get you open like this Rahz kid, Qualified professionalism, that’s far from a bar trick/ Drops that’ll fuck up your hearing, As much as arsenic is toxic/ Shots against Tonedeff & Rahzel are harmfully thoughtless/ And you’re unconsciousness is as far as your fucking plots get/ QN5, We don’t just son you, you get adopted/ JS-1 proves you’re only scratching was due to jock itch/ You can ask your girl she know exactly where the cock’s been/ And it isn’t the 1st time she’s been caught getting her twat dicked/ Countless rounds spit, wanna counter my sound and pop lip?/ Say bon voyage, use your head to christen a yacht ship/ Leave you topless! I ain’t talk no fucking bra-shit/ Just a boss-less hitman, crossing you off my job-list/ Phemonemal conquests legendary as Loch Ness/ Innocuous? Not if you ain’t gotten your plague shot yet/ I’m hostile when I’m out for this house rent/ So, please put your money where your mouth is, bouts with Rahz are a lost bet. You counterfeit hounds are countless/ So, pay homage to the man, and put his style back exactly where you found it.
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff & Session Produced by: Tonedeff ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), El Beyaco Malo (ASCAP) CHORUS Slow ya roll, potna! Just! Hold Your horses/ ‘For you go starting mess, Know your role, bitch/ Tonedeff’s, your papa! Sesh owns y’all whole s hit/ Remember that you may get hurt. Safety First. V1 – TONEDEFF When I start to strike with thoughts that you ain’t have the heart to write/ The following scars are sponsored by Spicasso & The Archetype/ Your squad is not as nice as ours is, we amount to twice the artists/ Y’all just get discounted as often as prices down at Target/ I ain’t have to split profits to get a bid on the market/ I just spit for the art and word caught on quicker than SARS did/ Start picking your coffin; Your chick keeps a dick in her pocket, And commands that you remove your shoes before licking the carpet. V1B – SESSION It’s Session, Spicasso I walk on the third rail/ Spark till I turn pale wit narcs on the herb trail/ You only served jail for ya failed crimes/ My dick is one mile, I use it for a sundial, it’s how I tell time/ Stale rhymes like yours dont deserve to be quoted/ With a flow you can not see [Nazi] like someone in Germany wrote it/ Till then to home ya limpin, shoot hands out/ Make ya lip stand out like you’re Homer Simpson. Chorus V2A – SESSION Tonedeff, create grooves, everyday heat/ Break dudes when we play beats, and make moves like NBA Street/ QN5, you cant outbuy us, man dont try us/ We pan out fires, so just hand out flyers/ BITCH! you wack, even ya beats suckin bad/ I’ll tell you who the illest producer is, my fuckin dad!/ Puffin bags, still got stamina for slammin ya/ You say you was up north? Then you must’ve meant Canada. V2B – TONEDEFF It’s Bananas, Eh? Tonedeff & Session, Are so fresh in essence, we both lent our scents to fill up cans of spray/ Endorsements through Bowflex and Mennen, You’re whole set’s fe-minine/ You throw fits like women. Push Kotex and bins of Vaginaid/ Go fetch an entrance for your next profession, in a coat check or dressing room – Don’t mess with testing mics or think of flippin’ a beat/ If you ever get bigger than me, It isn’t a bitter defeat/ But did you get your receipt? Cause now, ‘pay your dues’ is more than a figure of speech! Chorus V3 – TONEDEFF I’m a veritable monstrosity! Flip incomparable-parable bombs, constantly/ Possibly perrenial, plenty of flow ferocity/ Vocal velocity, againt any posse accosting me/ Not to be sonically swapped with quality attrocities/ Bitches are gossipy, Niggas exhibit hypocrisy/ Talkin’ seedy behind my back but give props to me optically/ Verses are sloppily constructed, Incompetant carpetry/ Sucked at monopoly – I switched cards to charge you a doctor’s fee/ Stopping the monotony is the prophecy I shot at the industry novelties And punks that don’t put their heart in the artistry/ It’s hard to see our cultural freedom philosophies/ Get tossed to sea, for the cars you need, pretty sluts and the cost of weed/ As I rhyme, I see the scars recede, whenever they start to bleed/ Pressure’s promptly applied to the beat’s properties properly/ Proud of my soveriegnty, cause I’m baggin shit like colostomies/ If I gotta spell it out, you’d best to double the F and cross the T. V3B – SESSION The mic abuser, makin seven holes wit six shooters/ And make it seem like you dove face first into a juicer/ Before I think I close my eyes and access my computer/ Type the password and login Session as the user/ You loser, but I never sleep, I realize theres/ Always challengers, so my eyes stay open like I died scared/ We ride here, NY, you rep were you are not from/ Get dropped son, body stretched out like a dachshund/ I got some cash and hash man, pass grams/ And I cant be got, Im E. Honda with the fast hands/ Knuckles crash land, make ya nose runny/ And make ya side split like I said somethin funny/ Sonny, how that sound? Im that down/ We could box, but you’ll get beat half an hour before the last round/ Quick fast down, trash clown/ You couldnt put up ya dukes if our gloves were half pounds. Chorus
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP) V1 – TONEDEFF Yo. Now is this the center of gravity? Or is it the cats that be/ Frantically pulling me down grabbing at my saddle to handle me/ Leaving em cattle branded with logos stamped on they asses/ When taxes are filed, I claim niggas as my property assets/ I’ve properly asked for things, acting mannered, But cats haven’t granted me access to the respect or props that I’ve practically gathered/ Over the passage of time, I’ve mastered the many facets of rhyme/ But ask Sam Jackson, the only life that’s been shafted is mine/ I’m past trying to fit in with niggas half as aspiring/ Tired, but I won’t ever give in… even after retirement/ Heat! You can either dry with or die with blistering flames/ So stay tuned because I’m about to stick fists in they face/ In a vicious display of wits, only tricks of the trade you know, Are the Chickens you date, that get dickens for pay/ You’re a sickening case, think your slick in this game? Then, your mic gets switched and replaced, as I toss the pin in your face as you grip the grenade/ So, you’d better deliver your kids to a place where there’s kittens and games/ So they can abandon the quest for your missing remains/ I’m a tsunami, you’re a typical wave, a hurricane to the drizzling rain/ If it’s the clique that I claim, kid, it’s The Plague/ And the Plague is the plizzle, listen to this official issue/ QN5 is the game, tonedeff is the ref with the whistle/ Simple? Never! Bitch we’re just so clever/ This goes out to Meddafore, who’s sorta like the world because he’ll spin forever/ Flow as sinful as a bimbo legs open, whole ass up in your hands so gentle/ Cameras click to capture this, so I can pit your past against you/ Any attempt on me, you’ll thoroughly abort/ Cause you’ll catch it before it happens, like Minority Report/ I’m sure to be recorded as one of the nastiest, most technical, Flashiest, spectacle, cats seen yet to flow/ Tracks you pressed in bulk, Lack in respectable Craft, Just let it go, Masters shoulda been left in your trash receptacle/ That’s incredible! We let em know!
Ridiculous 04:08
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff Produced by: Domingo ©2000 QN5 Music (ASCAP) Chorus: When I rhyme just a little bit, Everybody’s feeling it/ Making sure the rhythm is hitting when I be killing it/ Really, I make a chicken wanna get with this/ Baby, say my name, “TONEDEFF”, that kid is ridiculous. V1 It is un-fucking-believable, whenever I proceed to besiege beats/ With a mean streak, lacing tracks phatter than sneakers in Beat Street/ Seeing to it that each week I’ve agreed to defeat the weakest of MCs/ Including G’s with Keys, Cheese & Bentley’s/ Guaranteed to receive a high degree of status/ Due to my steeze using this aparatus, toss rappers like faggots do salads/ Staggered by the amount of malice that I’ve managed to average/ Any MC grabbing this mic after me is needing their hands bandaged/ Master mechanic, assembling verses/ I’ll be jerking your purse, return with a smirk and a proof of purchase/ Im verbally perfect, and I’m assertive when I serve who deserves it/ Y’all coming up short, you’ve got smurfs in the circus nervous/ I’ve been alerted you’ve heard this, pounding with crazy shit/ With a tendency to hurt kids… don’t allow me to babysit/ The compounding’s amazing it’s slated to change the face of this/ Restoring the fear of skills in you lyrical aetheists. V2 I’m rearranging the game we play with a blazing array of ways/ To display dismay and decay on the faces of fakes that say/ They be claiming to turn the page, when they’re plainly afraid of change/ So, like God with a laptop… I’ll be saving the day/ Never the one to disgrace a blank stage or stay in the same place/ Aiming to lay waste to these snakes that ain’t vacating the 48 states/ And Locating them in the other 2. Making em pay/ Blatantly taking away their weight and then gaining a W/ And then I be coming through with a nastiness/ That ain’t been seen since your girl came clean, and really revealed just who the daddy is/ Happiness is rapping and splacking chicks/ I dominate tricks, and turn pimps into pacifist masochists/ The most tactical activist and Im letting the world know/ These cats is more half-ass than the award show that the source throw/ Feats are Herculean like Kevin Sorbo/ The lyrical Zorro, carving initials into your torso. V3 Im a man on a mission/ Skills on the mic don’t equate to your paper chase or the hate you place in your ammunition/ It’s fact or fiction, I’m acting towards your abolition/ I’m cracking you ghost just to battle you’re fractured apparition/ Rhythms I map with hand crafted precision/ No longer will I tolerate these cats that’s fraudulent like Darva Conger/ To be famous for 2 minutes/ When their whole delivery comes off flatter that a 12-year-old female gymnist/ They have neither the capacity or the fitness… for instance/ These cats be thinking they’re ill just cause they’ve got syphilis/ I come prepared with a quickness/ Their boys could testify nude for them in a courtcase and wouldn’t bare witness/ Competition best to be scared shitless/ I’ll sever their legs and toss a ruler in front of em… see if they go the distance/ This is readily on my wishlist/ Like, sticking a chick that be sipping the tip of my dick until she’s lipless/ The gist is it only takes a second to diss ya/ Bitch, you couldn’t match wits if you cloned a twin of Alicia/ With lesser odds of winning with a militia/ Blackmailing your bitch, telling her that I’m gonna send you the picture/ Of me and her playing strip-twister/ These are the consequences you face when your only aim in the game is to get richer/ Making intelligence legitimate when I be spitting it/ You may be hard but you’re lyrically impotent/ And I’ve been ripping shit since square one/ Persistence in killing insolence like when women insist to get their hair done/ I tear the sun out the sky if it’s hogging my shine/ If a track is ill, then it’s probably mine.
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff & Deacon The Villain Produced by: Domingo ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP), Beatskillz (ASCAP), Mark Makers Music (ASCAP) CHORUS All you hip-hop hypocrites talking like you know Come face to face and it’s a whole different story Shut up and stop talking, Step, Start walkin They smile in your face… stab you when you’re not watching. All you hip-hop hypocrites talking like you know Come face to face and it’s a whole different story They tell ya one thing, and then go do another/ Its about time we blew your cover V1 – TONEDEFF Hey, what’s a matter with the world today?/ There’s lots of hypocrites lurking, You can be sure to say/ See, plenty of times, I’ve been verbally burned or turned away/ By niggas that haven’t earned their say, so, in my defense, I’ve learned to play/ Cause I discerned decay in many crevices, heady rappers, biters, writers and editors…So I take preventative measures/ It’s shame that this game b-b-became a bit of a pain/ I’m dealing with strain by gettin my name shit on by niggas that bitch and complain/ Consider the fame of underground rappers/ Who stand to waste their fan bases if soundscan can catch up, like Sales are bad luck/ Some cats only support you when they believe they’ve bought you/ But abort you the minute you blow the fuck up, or even start to/ No need argue, with these mean elitists/ This new breed of teens is conceited, thinking that they conceived the whole scene as you see it/ Like history prior to them was deleted/ Now, either you’re a conformist or an extremist/ My grievances are not with warrant because I’ve seen this… shitty element shine through/ By cynical individuals carrying rifles/ Don’t be original, don’t even try to/ You’ll always sound like somebody else, till somebody else sounds like you/ Be mindful of the powers that scheme/ I’m seeing these dudes that never paid dues with interviews and 2 page spreads in glossy magazines/ And I’ve had it with these fraudulent skeptics/ The type to say they wrecked shit, when the whole audience was on their guest list. V1 – DEACON THE VILLAIN Don’t you hate people without cars, that critique how you’re driving?/ What about them backseat rhymers, doggin’ your one-liners?/ Hip-Hop-ocrites, they ain’t droppin shit, so they smell yours/ And tell you how bad it stinks! Claiming you fell short/ Of their goal. It’s like you’re at a stage show/ They ain’t throwing tomatoes, but full bottles of Prego/ Like not seeking their non-seasoned advice would lead to your detriment/ While they’re sounding like P. Diddy with a speech impediment/ Knockin your better shit! (Y’all couldn’t have heard it right!) Usually, they are suburbanites that are living the urban life/ Acting like your goal should be to be underground for life/ (Aight, then pay our bills, bitch, and turn on our lights!) These motherfuckas act like there’s a set of rules to follow/ Well, check this…for you I got a set of jewels to swallow/ Cause half the cats you praise, you only like because he’s cool with your other favorite rapper/ You only like him because he used to be Eminem’s back-up/ Took a picture, had it posterized and found a wall to tack up/ But when Eminem blew up, you threw up/ Dissed him, and became the next underground sensation’s new slut/ It’s all sad. To you, songs with sung hooks, they’re all bad/ But throw Anticon’s wackest rapper on it, and you’re all glad/ This madness and inconsistency dulls my shine/ These bitches would try to discredit VISA if it rhymed/ (Now chew on that line). Chorus V2A – TONEDEFF What do you do if you’re a dick, nobody likes you, and you never get light? You start your own hip-hop website! Now you’re a big fish in a small pond, controlling all the facets/ Your opinions disappear in the instant your browser crashes/ You underground babies cry the most, like you’re starting to teethe/ He’s fifteen with an opinion – But me? I’m an artist with beef/ “Dude, Tonedeff is all flow, he only talks fast”/ Oh yeah? Well, here’s a SLOW FUCK YOU for you’re stalled ass” V2B – DEACON THE VILLAIN Well, what do you do when your careers dying, nearly with its breath gone/ You start whining, complaining, claiming you’re getting slept on/ In the lab mixing elements for your so-called ‘best song’/ Yelling, “I got the next bullet-single!” but Billboard is wearing Teflon/ Cooking up food for thought, but when your meal drops/ And listeners don’t like your flavor, you pout that, “Y’all don’t know real hip-hop!” Eat a dick, doc. Your fame clock must be passed its tick-tock/ Now, punching soda cans is the only way you’ll hit-pop.
Turn It Up 03:09
From “Underscore” Written by: Tonedeff ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP) CHORUS Turn it Up! Turn it Up! Drama King! (Drama King) In The Mix (In the mix with Kay Slay!) Tonedeff – (In this bitch)/ QN5 – (we the shit) Turn It Up!! (Turn It Up!!) V1 – TONEDEFF See, now I’d bet a fuckin G, you prolly thinkin’, now, who the fuck is this misfit/ Proving something on this mix, Dude this must be a misprint/ True, im bumpin this list, trick, move, I’m snuffing these bitch kids Y’all niggas is bout as sweet as the nugget stuffed in them twix sticks/ It’s Tonedeff, the nigga dat cuts through these suckas with swift lips/ Clueless fuckers get wigs split, Rumors come but they’re dismissed/ Fooling us with a quick switch? Tuned to some other mix disc/ Would be like finding Nas with the Blueprint bumping in his whip/ Fools get dumped in a ditch, just rudely fronting like big fish/ Now, print this, The Plague, bitch, crews don’t want it with this clique/ You was hunting for tidbits, then you found the Archetype and K-Slay, the playa with the most exclusive cuts in the bizness/ My shit is a little bit more than the human tongue can omit/ Hit floosies up where their slits drip, do this under their clit lids/ Columbian & Cuban blood under this skin, Who can touch the description of a psuedo-super-pun with a slim trim/ I’m – the new and improved functioning whiz with Luger-lungs/ And the fitness to the deliver the most brutal bumps to these dim wits/ I’m Driven as if I threw a clutch in the stick shift/ One listen’ll strip 30 years from your life, shit, music this comes with a pension/ Intensive, administration of a million tooth-puncturing pin-pricks/ From all of your minions to the bastard who fronts your equipment/ Disaster soon comes in a instant/ To pussy virtual tools, like Lara Croft with a two guns tucked in her middrift/ Dig this busted youth becoming so twisted/ Kids’ll request Smilez & Southstar more than the true 100% shit/ QN5 is the governing imprint/ That’s bludgeoning oppostition with the indifference of a grandmother who would smother an infant/ I’ll leave you stunned as I come to admit this/ Yo, son, nah, really… you’re nice… and J.Lo’s pussy’s a wonderful Christian/ I’m adjusting my lenses… niggas really looked thug from a distance/ But the minute you come close, you see the slump in their limp wrist / And I’m plugging your chick, dig? it’s nothing tremendous/ See… I loan her the cock, and you’re stuck with the interest/ Her lust won’t allow her to front or resist this/ Stiff dick that so big, that Tonedeff get counted as a couple in the census/ Punch with a clenched fist, rupturing defenses, till your only fear is survival/ I will spit scriptures that embarrass the bible/ Go ahead, spit, You’re still wearing the title? Then back it’s back to your place/ I’ll say you’re wack to your face, faster than simon from American Idol.
Frequency 04:20
From “Underscore” Written & Produced by: Tonedeff ©1999 QN5 Music (ASCAP) This is just a test of the frequency/ You can be a hood without delinquency/ Cause I be the rhyme and the rhyme be me/ Whatever I be the rhyme be. V1 I break the average nigga down, just like decomposition/ On a mission to chart the art of rhyming way beyond traditions/ Equally, you’ll find my vision’s gone beyond the 20/20/ Had enough of these niggas showin’ me just who be on the money/ I catch phrases out of the blue like touchdown throws to wide recievers, So, “Hail Mary”, But you couldn’t “Run with me” if you were Gail Deavers/ I got that monotone lyric for your recievers/ Don’t don’t deceive us, cause we don’t believe in non-believers/ My style is more golden than that of a child who owns retrievers/ I shine like I’m David Helfgott, Searching for wealth, not solely/ But baby, “Do Ya Rilly Kno What’s going on?”/ I be that tech president that you Elec(t) like TRON/ I base data on databases, so it’s too complicated to trace this/ And with no flava you gotta face it, You’re tasteless/ The way that I embrace this is like huggin’ a cripple/ Invisible individuals get scratched like they’re pickles/ I physically tickle your mind, like water that trickles over your nipples/ I drip, cause lyrically I keep it kinky/ Hookers wanna drink me, but they can’t handle my tricks/ Cause I’ve been known for putting chip-clips on my bitches’ tits/ It hits the year 2K, and it’s a whole different story/ Don’t need will smith to talk about Miami for me/ Cause If I got a positive vibe, and a quote from a negative source/ Saying my Rap Sheet was Right On!, like what I’d do to the bus on my tours/ For sure I’m not a tourist, I’m a purist/ Came into the land of rhyme, sanded the hourglass and I cuffed the hands of time/ To arrest your interest and express with mine/ Niggas can check me out with ten items or less, while you regress and stand in line/ They play the way like pantomimes, I only touch ‘em with mitts/ I tell ‘em, “Shut the fuck up!”, and yo, they can’t say shit/ I’m giving verbal facelifts to those with traces of painted faces/ So, I’ma tell you what the case is. Chorus V2 So, when it comes to the written rhyme, the ink effects are diabolical/ Off the top of the dome like George Jefferson’s hair follicles/ !?What?!, You put the ass in astronomical/ Any attempt by you to even make a def jam could pass for comical/ More psychological than movie thrillers, boxing niggas like Helena in Manila/ Extract ‘em like vanilla/ For real, I never had a dope name to profess/ But relied on my skill when it came to the test/ I’m blessed in the trade of my native expression/ If late is my time, then my rhyme be inte-resting/ I question the power of a star/ Cause kids be singing “love live the king”, like my name was Uncle Scar/ So, “Can you feel the buzz tonight?” I never mean it in a blunt way, cause some say that they’re the flyest when the drums play/ They’re bound to go down just like morale on hump day/ Cause once they front, an omen will hunt they’re ass down in my name/ Cause I box out them niggas that’s surrounding my game/ In any way shape or form/ I did circles on those who weren’t breaking the norm/ And I’m the first to try angles that you ain’t figured before/ You’ve forged on more lines than my written signature/ And my shit’ll be hitting for sure upon the canvas/ I planned this tonight so you might understand this. Chorus
Morethanthis 03:17
From “Underscore” Written & Produced by: Tonedeff ©2003 QN5 Music (ASCAP) V1 It goes a little something like this. I was turning 17. I was prolly the most popular kid that my school had ever seen. I was the flavor of the future, Man, it’s the future and I can’t taste a thing. I’m 23 years old now. Still chasing the same dream at 17. I watched some folks around me blow up. And I’m still right here. Doing nothing. Aspiring. Trying. But there’s something inside me. And I’ve always felt so meaningful. There’s nothing more that I wanna prove to you. It’s that I’m morethanthis. CHORUS I’m morethanthis. Yeah, I’m morethanthis. You know I wanna be morethanthis Alright now, morethanthis. Give me a chance now, Morethanthis. You know I wanna be morethanthis. More than a no-one, morethanthis. I’ve got something. Yeah. V2 About a year after which, I was no longer a novelty. People no longer changed who they are for me, A celebrity hardly. And I was working at Best Buy, selling CDs. When a friend of mine sees me, And disturbs me deeply, saying, “Hey, Hey! Whatever happened to Mr. Arsenio Hall?” As if working there was quite the fall from grace. I had to disguise my face. Cause I was totally disgraced, by my fate. And my place in life. If you were really my friend, you would know I’m Morethanthis.
Outro 04:14


released July 20, 2003


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Tonedeff New York

Emcee / Producer / Singer / Songwriter / Designer / Director / Insomniac.

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