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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Heart on My Sleeve - Single, Get Out - Single, Hunter - Single, She Love My Style (feat. Reuben Walton) - Single, City's Lonely - Single, Reuben Walton - EP, On and On (Derek Piotr Funeral Piano Rental Service) - Single, Tiffany’s (feat. Reuben Walton and DDomino Geronimo) - Single, and 19 more.
1. |
Back of the Club
02:31
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Reuben Walton: We in this mufuckah...
Verse 1: Errbody in the back of the club/sippin' mad Grey Goose™, gettin' real fucked up/smokin' mad bowls, rollin' up a couple blunts/gettin' real swole? tell me when you had enough/matter of fact, fuck that, we gon' sip that grain/got all your jaws dropped 'cause you ain't half as chain/you hipsters think you party? bitch you're wack and lame/we're here to represent the fuckin' 9-7-8, hoe
Chorus: Ain't nobody got it like me, ain't nobody swole/poppin' off the chain like me, y'all ain't really know (2x)
Verse 2: And we don't give a fuck how you feel/steady tellin' all you bitches just how to deal/you don't pop bottles? then go and pop a pill/either way, keep it movin', fuck up out my grill/I don't need your opinion and I don't need your reviews/So take it to the pulpit and quit preachin' from the pews/Damn, dead to rights, I'm an outsider/and we gonna see which one of these whores' mouth's wider/I'm speakin' for my people, not some muthafuckin' elitists/you actin' all righteous, but you bitches ain't even Jesus/It's plain for me to see that y'all the fuckin' lamest of heathens/what I be smokin' on, man, that's the dankest of species/and I don't need approval, 'cause I say it and mean it/many left the race 'cause this industry's plainly misleading/and I ain't hatin' on the classics, man I still bump the Beatles/so you can keep your tastemaking 'cause my niggas ain't need it
Chorus
Outro: (Vocalizing) I make my own tastes, hoe/don't taze me, bro/muthafucka, don't taze me, hoe/whatever gender you is, yo
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2. |
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Okay okay okay okay
okay okay okay okay
Verse 1:
Oh shit, time’s up--I’m back again/If you don’t believe me, ask your friend/all else fails, better ask your man/y’all best believe I got the master plan/and I don’t give a damn ‘bout a ticket holder/better pack up ‘cause your shift is over/finna act up if I’m lit or sober/dead dogs know that I spit the dopest/I got the game, I got the brain/you mock my way, but you’re not the same/I keep it real, I roast and gag/you meet my steel, your toes are tagged/you hatin’ on me, I’m hatin’ back/blowin’ up my phone? Don’t make me laugh/get me in the booth, I’ma lace the track/and the only thing you can really say is “fag”/Oh shit muthafucka, I just called you out!/Rookie on the mic, you can always tell/album in the store, shit won’t hardly sell/bad bitch comin’ out her garter belt/chillin’ out in Weymouth/best believe I’m gettin’ payments/haters ain’t gon’ say shit/unless they want a facelift/I say the shit you afraid to say/put these rappers on layaway/six feet deep they gon’ stay away/I be on my day-to-day/I’ma make it rain today, yo swag is a raincheck/you be drinkin’ fake beer, I be goin’ apeshit
Chorus:
I’m gon’ make it, you can’t break me
California, come and save me
storm or sunlight, that don’t phase me
y’all are in for a rude awakening
I’m gon’ make it, you can’t break me
California, come and save me
storm or sunlight, that don’t phase me
y’all are in for a rude awakening
Verse 2:
Catch me out in a brown ‘llac/steady blowin’ that loud pack/better give me my crown back/you just look like a drowned rat/animals in freezers/ladies pushin’ them beamers/po’in’ up 151 sittin’ pretty in a two-seater/hated on, look at me now/on these hoes, ‘bout to clown/this a battle, you backin’ out/only chips that I’m stackin’ now/It Gets Better, you best believe/these haters don’t make sense to me/curry powder, they sesame/only live ‘cause I let them breathe/and I don’t know what canteen is, bitch/didn’t go to jail, don’t give two shits/we used to roll a L, then sip two fifths/used to ride around with my brain too lit/this shit you hear it you love it/at the crib or in public/you makin’ ignorant comments but bitch I think nothing of it/man I gotta keep goin’, ‘cause the drama ain’t worth it/it’s been too many nights that I been wakin’ up hurtin’/and it go…
Chorus:
I’m gon’ make it, you can’t break me
California, come and save me
storm or sunlight, that don’t phase me
y’all are in for a rude awakening
I’m gon’ make it, you can’t break me
California, come and save me
storm or sunlight, that don’t phase me
y’all are in for a rude awakening
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3. |
Outside Looking In
03:53
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We met
there was a newness
I saw promise
something finally
now all
I can think of
is the chances
and how I screwed them up
Chorus:
Something changed within my mind
and it's killing me inside
and I'm terrified to think
that I could possibly have missed my one lucky chance
Maybe someday once again
we'd be more than just good friends
but that time is not tonight
and I cannot deny that I'm outside looking in
The cloudy days they come and go
staring into space with the radio
it's shameful what I put you through
I just wanted to be good to you
in my head can't get you out
echoes through this empty house
if I knew then what I know now
I'd still have you hanging around
and how... how can I ignore the pieces on the floor
and move the fuck on
when they were in the air
just a moment ago
I need closure, baby
Chorus:
Something changed within my mind
and it's killing me inside
and I'm terrified to think
that I could possibly have missed my one lucky chance
Maybe someday once again
we'll be more than just good friends
but that time is not tonight
and I cannot deny that I'm outside looking in
at all the people with their seemingly true loves
while I'm out here in the cold wishing you were here with me
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4. |
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DejaVu: I want that money and that cup of lean, yeah don't be callin' that a pipe dream/I sit down and I watch the big screen, yeah, I want that Wu-Tang money, all that cream/sometimes I feel like my life is a simulation of Animal Crossing, yeah no animal should cross me/yeah, your voices are wack, and that's where you lost me/I’m creepin’ in the house like Maniac Mansion/tryna perfect my skills of expansion/the key to the manor under the mat, I’m a little late/near the front door next to the gate, once I get the money I’ma make the great escape/the art of trespassing with a thing for passion/in this day and age almost everyone embrace fashion/stay fake ‘till they cash in/I’ma come around and break that mask in/‘cause you judgin’ without morals and didn’t even ask ‘em, DejaVu and I’m goin’ platinum
Reuben Walton: In Nebraska, or front of Westboro Baptist/with a loaded chrome magnum and a chloroform napkin/duckin’ down in the classroom when them haters were laughin'/now they on a dirty mattress in a bus station bathroom/Through the years I spent my time with sped gangstas who were comatose/made my way through a bitchy school that had hipster irony overload/stuck it out in a music school where half the people were homophobes/Meanwhile just drink it down to relieve emotional overload/way too high with a box of wine, couple times I coulda overdosed/R-E to the U-B, E-N this the overthrow/Flow bitter like Mucinex/go getter I'm doin shit/my crew around, betta show respect/you fool around, meet a loaded tech/say you're not a user? Well get in line and prove it/them deep words ain't sayin' shit, I call it on a true tip/your bank account is empty, that shit is not my problem/them shoes been outta style since the minute that you bought 'em/keep it up muthafucka I'ma slit your throat/leave you in a body bag whipped and broke/got me laughin' at yo ass, your career's a joke/yeen really ridin' on hundred spokes/winnin' this shit no contest/got the game shook like a bomb threat/even though my money ain't long yet/Carrie ain't gone to the prom yet
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5. |
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Reuben Walton: Yo, yo, check it
Verse 1:
Reuben Walton: Ridin' 'round trying to get the best of me?/Better pipe down so I let you breathe/now you're trying to clown like you're stressin' me?/broke-ass bitch, you can't get to me/always trying to ask for some extra cheese?/you be on narcotics and ecstasy/poppin' them bottles of promethazine/soon you're gonna need a hysterectomy/chill, 'cause I donate to the Service Center/half of y'all hoes ain't even worth your pension/I'ma make these dudes legs hurt and then some/try to step to me and you'll learn your lesson/too much of a risk, not even worth investment/'cause I ain't even on the Asperger spectrum/on YouTube, gonna burn this heckler/he ain't nothin' more than a burnin' ember/and I don't sugarcoat or Splenda/'cause everybody here's got their own agenda/don't wanna be a name people won't remember?/gotta spread your wings 'fore it's cold December/like it or not, the block is stifling hot/people won't come around if they might just be shot/you might despise and you might like it a lot/but in this life you ride or you're stuck in the lot
Chorus:
You can't touch me,
not anymore 'cause best believe I've moved on
and you can't fuck with me,
hang up the phone because your number is blocked
'cause you could never do this shit the way that I do
I'm gon' always be me and you always gon' be you (DejaVu: Yeah, yeah)
you can keep on hatin' but you know that it's true
all jokes aside, I'ma live forever
Verse 2:
DejaVu: In all honesty, I don't wanna make it if it means I have to give up myself just to make it/yeah that don't mean that I have to fake it, but don't come running to me when you are forsaken/I was there for you then but no more waitin'/I owe somebody, I owe some money/lookin' around always fuckin' expectin' to catch a body/everybody unite, everybody tonight so/let's clean the table 'fore it switches around/switches are bound yeah to come up with no mothafuckin' sound/yeah no body knows you 'till you mothafuckin' leave home and/you don't make 'em a martyr until they meet chrome and/I got somethin' for monsters who are known to roam/and I know monsters who made a killin' in fuckin' Rome/I ain't got no alter ego no mothafuckin' a Roman/it's just me myself and I'm mothafuckin' zonin'
Chorus:
You can't touch me,
not anymore 'cause best believe I've moved on
and you can't fuck with me,
hang up the phone because your number is blocked
'cause you could never do this shit the way that I do (Reuben Walton: Nope)
I'm gon' always be me and you always gon' be you (Reuben Walton: Yup!)
you can keep on hatin' but you know that it's true (Reuben Walton: Okay, okay)
all jokes aside, I'ma live forever
Verse 3:
Reuben Walton: Accounting Managerial, ain't nobody give a shit/if you disagree with me, I'ma let the trigga spit/ironically the opposite of southern hospitality/try to step to me and there's gon' be another casualty/you already know that I'm gettin' it in/got a couple cold fifths and a bottle of gin/sleepin' on me, that's a cardinal sin/which one of y'all wanna start with a bitch?/end up with your jugular partially split/your dude sloppy drunk and he startin' to spit/I'm the last one he should be arguing with/so cut the camera off, this ain't the Parthenon, bitch/hungry, angry, lonely, tired/all a bunch of reasons for me to get expired/I'm livin' large, you know that I got love handles/I'm goin' hard, bitch you know I love handles
Chorus:
You can't touch me, (can't touch me)
not anymore 'cause best believe I've moved on (I've moved on)
and you can't fuck with me, (fuck with me)
hang up the phone because your number is blocked
'cause you could never do this shit the way that I do
I'm gon' always be me and you always gon' be you (The way that I do)
you can keep on hatin' but you know that it's true (Okay, okay)
all jokes aside, I'ma live forever
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6. |
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LeAnne Piepiora: I'm gonna make it smooth/make you move/make it smooth like bud/I'm gonna make it smooth/make you move/make it smooth like butter/
LeAnne Piepiora: (background vocals) Never, never, never, never, never, never, never, nev-- (pitch gradually lowering)
LeAnne Piepiora: I'm gonna make it smooth/make you move/make it smooth like butter/I'm gonna make it smooth/make you move/make it smooth like bud/
LeAnne Piepiora and Reuben Walton: Gonna let this beat sink in, to my brain.
LeAnne Piepiora: Give me a bag, give me a bottle, give me a bag, give me a bottle
LeAnne Piepiora and Reuben Walton: Gonna let this beat sink in, to my brain.
LeAnne Piepiora: Give me a bag, give me a bottle, give me a bag,
LeAnne Piepiora and Reuben Walton: give me a bottle (with background harmonies)
Reuben Walton: I oughta start calling myself Jora Dak/been over ten years since I beat Majora's Mask/bet your ass I ain't lookin' back for a snack/one free Uno chip later and I still be scorin' cash/to all you hatin'-ass hoes, your personalities get boring fast/"Ye Olde Electric Chair" is where you're headed if you keep smoking more than crack/hell, even that shit'll do you in headin' straight to the loony bin with along with your lower back/so for cheaper thrills, get some rum, roll it up, go on and pour that 'gnac/check check, one two/finest, bun drew/lookin' like a bun made o' drew corny/lookin' like a horny/corny-ass fuckin' toadpole/lookin' like a toadstool/lookin' like a soadbool/loakin' on a stoadbowl/lookin' like a toad bowl/bitch please, toads smoke bowls, too!/'cause they gotta get high livin' in a vernal pool/fuckin' corny-ass, boring-ass shit/molecules movin' around, fuck shit/they don't really got no T.V. to fuck wit/they just sit there mad fuckin' bored with a wart on their body like fuck that shit/they ain't really got it like fuck that bitch/hoes on the black like fuck that clit
LeAnne Piepiora: Oh what it's like, bein' a dog/in the hood, walkin' the streets/(laughs) you see all those people walkin' 'round and
LeAnne Piepiora and Reuben Walton: people walkin' while walkin' 'round/and people walkin' while walkin' 'round/and people walkin' while walkin' 'round
LeAnne Piepiora: people walkin' while walkin' 'round (fading out)
LeAnne Piepiora: Your best friend's name is Henry, he's a squirrel/you aren't really interested in girls/you're a dog, woof woof (laughs)/you're a dog, a dog, on the streets, you're a dog, woof woof, woof woof (more laughing)/throw me a bone/this the first time I rapped alone/I don't really know what to say, it just comes from my brain/these brainwaves reachin' out to you into your head/makin' you think about what I said
Reuben Walton: Look at me now, I'm on some worldwide shit/went from low-end pearls to certified diamonds and fly shit/and ain't nann thang wrong that nann hoe can find wit/the insatiable itch when your faced with a quick way to get away with this shit/pretty soon we gonna go from kale chips to high chips/in a quick truck headin' to where fat fucks knuck, buck, and ride dick/ain't nothin' like it, stayin' puffin' chronic lies, bitch/urgency furtively breathin' flies made of stoned and perfumed heat/and then your wife took me all the way home with her doomed teeth/readin' up on all the latest poems and I still got these dudes beat/bananas on the 'llac, books of stamps on the road/shoutout to Trick Daddy--and Da Brat, though/'cause their music takes me back, bro/to a place I wish I could fast go/like Angie Martinez, I'm steady standin' there bleedin', I used to watch movies 'bout the Brat Pack, oh/block corner where this gorilla got clapped at/by eleven-year-olds with silly putty and attitude, make me wanna slap that/think they're budding killers, but they ain't shit but a couple o' asscracks/recitin' lyrics out to the universe, but it's me they can't hang with, 'cause I was lookin' past that/come watch the pretty ladies and bitches doin' salvia in--in Bainbridge, Georgia/the stripper outside, that chick ain't here for ya/lookin' fantastic wit it/get fucked with quick when it happens, that's it (gasp)/daily medications got these bitches meditatin'/the shit you and I be facin'/simultaneously sittin' and pacin'/looky here, fuck 'em other hoes with side-swipe bangs, no numbers in their screen name/yeah, fuck 'em other hoes with side-swipe bangs, no numbers in their screen name/call me a hater 'cause I point out that ain't nann one of them gonna see fame/no haters bustin' shots at the same screen, daym/first name Charlie, last name Sheen, mayne/first name Charlie, last name Sheen, mayne/and green vein/four bitties cussin' blue streaks chokin' on the same green vein/she's not even conscious when I step inside the ring/givin' in to temptation like a music box made of ivory/sparkling idly, givin' you a record I'ma prove is hot in time with thee/the same green you preyed on twenty minutes ago with booze and more pot/now is gonna make you look to be losin' whore shot/got these blows off, and give it to us some more/got me blown off that blueberry tryna settle a score/steady gettin' ready for Jim Carrey to embezzle my door (gasp)/feelin' so scary, and very interesting/peelin' clothes off dope fairies in the West Wing/hopin' they not part of some typical internet scheme/sold out like bags of the best weed/rollback like Walmart, bitch don't check me/the seams on my suit, 'cause I won't sip the next lean/always said I'd give the very best of me/data failure be damned, I'll still have the rest beat/if you be investing in the evil checks you spending/chicken scratchin' paper off the best o' gin you ingesting/illiterate children of used-up spent tricks/rode hard and put away wet like an old game of Tetris/not TLC, but these chickens "Unpretty" and can't spend shit, they accounts is froze/bitch lookin' at me like I ain't got no titties and my booty bounce is old/she flip flop 'cause that shit hot, now that Miley started to twerk and be bold/cheesy hoes be murkin' ye/threatenin' to hurt a G and burn a thief/spittin' like a crime perpetrator, like they in line to catch them vapors/Common Ground, in terms of streets they be Mainers/whole group and crew ain't nothin' but some lamers/these skinny witches can't make that bussy drop to the bottom of the flo'/steady sippin' Seagram's and I be gone off a hit o' 'dro/lightweight is how I save my money, hoe/sittin' on a sling in a video ain't gonna get you somethin', bro/in terms of fantasy I burn your man to pieces/and that sling ain't hot enough for even pajama creases/pajama meetings, even especially the one from Saw 3 or The Ring, can't stand them freakers/shiny-ass leather with the damnedest speakers/pimped out ride, but this chemistry teacher can't handle beakers/like we at Hearth & Kettle and I took a shit in the sink
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Reuben Walton Falmouth, Massachusetts
Reuben Walton is a singer/songwriter and music producer based in Falmouth, MA. He is a graduate of Musicians Institute in
Hollywood's Independent Artist program and their Electronic Music Production program, as well as UMass Lowell’s Music Business undergraduate program.
In 2019 he put out a self-titled EP working with producer AVLI Music and is now regularly releasing new music.
... more
Reuben Walton recommends:
Super dreamy and spacey, just the way I like it. Beautiful music, recommended for fans of Best Coast, Animal Collective, Grizzly Bear, and other bands. Check 'em out! "D'Arrest" is my favorite!
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