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Doors of Perception
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Patient Zero

by Prime Sinister

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1.
The following takes place in an alternative universe called ‘Rage’, in which the common tongue is Syllablism, or the act of speaking only in related, corresponding words. The people of this world eat and drink, forget and forgive, repair and destroy like we do, except this world offers them more. Like how the brain only operates at 5%, so does our world and the space in which it exists. The people of Rage operate at 100, and so their story will be told in a hundred portions. I lived there for 6 months myself, but was released onto Earth when my existence became known. There, I am known as Patient Zero. Here, I am just a writer, and so here I will tell their stories. TRACK ONE OUT FOR ME [Prod. Baileys Brown] Short of bite, He’s marauding with the sword of might, sporting mics and an awful chortle for the portal flight, He was mourning the thesaurus he was born to write, scornful-like, he’d deform enormously in morning light, He’d escort the court performer for the slaughter type [dormant-like], saw the light with the sort of slaughter of a Walter White, He was normal in his formal right to dawdle with the portions and morsels of this mortally important night Poison chalice, He’s poised to foil the immortal callous portal that would court the maliced chortles of a formal palace, He was morsels of a mortal that had thought had managed normal with the sort of palette coursing in a warbled ballad, He’s awarded rabid choruses of war and acid, snorting in the porous magic, sourcing it in portioned static, He’s automatic with his sureness and his roaring tragic shortage of importance, classics orbiting his raw fanatics Out for me, It was the fountain or the balcony, how can he surround the insurmountable with falconry? He’s held accountable for mountains of his palpably uncountable and bountiful pronouncements of his alchemy Out for me, It was the fountain or the balcony, how can he surround the insurmountable with falconry? He’s held accountable for mountains of his palpably uncountable and bountiful pronouncements of his alchemy Type a psalm, He was a writer with a fighter’s arm, vital charm tightens in his iris as his lighter calms, He was enlightened on the eyeless, the papyrus farms, tyrant smarm and the light Aquinas with the finest garm, He was describing the presiding of a rising palm slicing that’s enticing the environment of heightened charm, They’re abiding by the pirate of the brightest qualm, slightest harm minuses the virus as the violence calms Vanquisher, He was enamoured with the trafficker of malice in the palace through the channels of an aquifer, It’s a palette that was tacit in its calibre, facets of his valour from the travels of his character, He’s attacking with the callousness of Salinger, challenging a maverick in annals of an amateur, He’s a Catholic that hammered the parameters of balance in a ballad that was stammered in a massacre Out for me, It was the fountain or the balcony, how can he surround the insurmountable with falconry? He’s held accountable for mountains of his palpably uncountable and bountiful pronouncements of his alchemy Out for me, It was the fountain or the balcony, how can he surround the insurmountable with falconry? He’s held accountable for mountains of his palpably uncountable and bountiful pronouncements of his alchemy
2.
TRACK TWO EVERY BIRTH, A DEATH [Prod. Leaf Dog] Sativa raw, He was bleating on the eve of war, either/or greeting the receiver of a sea of lore, He was eating off a diva as the season wore, he adored demons that were creeping in his evil jaw, He’s the amnesia that was fleeting from her features, for bleeding like a creature was her teacher in this fevered war, She preaches dreamless in the fever that he seemed to score, reaching for the easel for her sequel as the needle poured Hard but you ain’t, He would go hard in the paint for the martyr with shards of a saint, Barter constraint for a starter, the smarter would feint in the laughter that’s charts his restraint, Carting the chains of a charter with art in his veins, he’d depart as a grafter in pain, After the rains of his crafting had passed and decayed, he was masked in the past he conveyed Every birth, a death, He was squirming as a vermin in his flesh, he was burning with the burden in the sesh, Yearning to be less, he was stirring his disturbances afresh with the sterling he was hurling in this mess Every birth, a death, He was squirming as a vermin in his flesh, he was burning with the burden in the sesh, Yearning to be less, he was stirring his disturbances afresh with the sterling he was hurling in this mess [Harvs Le Toad] So we staggered back at midnight Got battered in a fist fight
 Backchatting on the packet, like he’s wammer than the big guy
 His fins shine, slings his limbs in a pig sty
 Peers show no tears, claim they ‘aint with him when he’s inside They’ve been nice, but since the hindrance he’s been like, 
Stop it, ain’t gotta be Einstein to clock it
 See, he don’t know no Mai Thai or boxing
 But somehow these heads are still frightened to watch him
 We’ve lost him, that’s what his mother and his father said
 Maybe getting jumped was the alarm that karmas after him
 He’s musical, didn’t make the music though as usual
 Delusional, one too many bugles in the cubical
 His cuticles, nibbled down to drawing blood, ain’t beautiful 
But duty calls, so excuse him whilst he lose it all
 Guess duty calls, so excuse him whilst he lose it all Every birth, a death, He was squirming as a vermin in his flesh, he was burning with the burden in the sesh, Yearning to be less, he was stirring his disturbances afresh with the sterling he was hurling in this mess Every birth, a death, He was squirming as a vermin in his flesh, he was burning with the burden in the sesh, Yearning to be less, he was stirring his disturbances afresh with the sterling he was hurling in this mess [Vitamin G] See he had it all, Bad at school but he’s flashy cool
 Enamour bad, yats he pulled, talent with the ball
 A natural, matter of fact he could have been national
 To paraphrase he had a passion til he smashed into the wall
 Not a clash at all, erratic talk and packet snort
 Drastic actions made it that I couldn’t catch the ball
 Dabbling in this and that til collapsing called
 He had a lot of cash from his dad but that was gamble-able
 He couldn’t hack the thought of losing but he did
 So back to two things: 
Exactly, racking up and boozing
 Till that weren’t enough
 He’d drag and chase his smack and end up shooting
 He shot up this quick all of the sudden must be juicing
 Doubled up his drug abuse, muscles looking too big
 Doesn’t mean he’s not been upper-cutted for some loose lip
 Lost his head now he’s on the steds Lucky he’s not in bed His mum flushed his meds when she clocked the feds Every birth, a death, He was squirming as a vermin in his flesh, he was burning with the burden in the sesh, Yearning to be less, he was stirring his disturbances afresh with the sterling he was hurling in this mess Every birth, a death, He was squirming as a vermin in his flesh, he was burning with the burden in the sesh, Yearning to be less, he was stirring his disturbances afresh with the sterling he was hurling in this mess
3.
TRACK THREE METAPHOR [Prod. Badhabitz] Weaponry, He was a vendor that meant to be, essentially, the ender of the splendour of the century, It was his lending that was meant that he was dead to me, surrendering contenders for the rendering of treachery, He was lecturing on severing the entity that’s entering malevolence and measuring us mentally, He’s dismembering the heavens with a legacy of endlessness that weathered in the pleasantness of empathy Sharper knife, It’s a disaster as he starts his life, carting rife arsenic to martyrs with a starter price, It was the larger of the carvers of a jar of a light, charring right in the jarring carcass of a starry night, It was heartless but he’s starring in the afterlife, starving with a garnishment of parlance he would guard tonight, He would be bartering the armaments on target sites, charting flights to enlarge the army for the darker night Metaphor, He was to meddle with a settled score, vessel of intelligence, malevolence and fettered war, He was unsettled by the eminence of errant gore, wrestling the pestilence for evidence of heaven’s lore Metaphor, He was to meddle with a settled score, vessel of intelligence, malevolence and fettered war, He was unsettled by the eminence of errant gore, wrestling the pestilence for evidence of heaven’s lore Cyanide, It’s a trying time he’d die inside, lionised in the mired sirens of his diatribe, He’s inspired by the pirates, he was riot-side, quiet night, he’d reply a silence and a quiet sigh, He acquired an alliance in a giant’s eyes, crying for the crisis, a goliath with a dire side, He conspired with a tyrant in a five-a-side of violence, he was trying to inspire the defiant cries Caesar clone, It was the geezer on the speaker phone, he’s alone as the greeze releases into people’s homes, His demeanour was unequal to the reaper’s tone, cheap cologne freezes into creases in his femur bone, He was eager for the sequel to this lethal tome, he was known as the sleazy leader of the streets of Rome, He was easing into speakers as the evil foams, feeble bones that deceived the reaper as he sleeps alone Metaphor, He was to meddle with a settled score, vessel of intelligence, malevolence and fettered war, He was unsettled by the eminence of errant gore, wrestling the pestilence for evidence of heaven’s lore Metaphor, He was to meddle with a settled score, vessel of intelligence, malevolence and fettered war, He was unsettled by the eminence of errant gore, wrestling the pestilence for evidence of heaven’s lor
4.
TRACK FOUR YAMMER [Prod. Pitch 92] Mystic maze, He’s an assistant that was listing praise, twists of phrase with the simplest hinting of ballistic rage, It’s intrinsic to his system of existence, flayed victim that had simpered into dictum on a single page, It had crinkled in the twinkle of his cryptic rage, exists today as a blinkered mirror and linguistic gauge, It was wrinkled and had drifted from a gifted sage, shifts away as a scripted riddle on a twisted stage Splutters home, He would be uttering his gutter prose, he would sputter somethings for a munchkin with a butter nose, He would flutter to discover the erupted moans of summer that would usher his skulduggery in budding rose, He would hum another number to become a pro of nothing, he was numbered by the hunger that his cunning shows, He was flooded by the monger of the coming flow of wonder that would comfort him in blunders that would come and go I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers   I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers Starving artist, He had the carvings of a barred alarmist, parts of varnish and a jar of palmists that he’d start to garnish, He was tarnished by the largest of the jarring harvest, startling the carcass of a target in a smart catharsis, He’s a narcissist guitarist and the harshest barrist, marbling a starlet he would harness through the art of starkness, He was grafting in the laughter that’s departing sharpish, crafting marches for the snarling martyr with the heart of darkness Crowded wards, He was espousing the amount of draws, countless jaws mounted on a fountain with a ground of swords, He was the scoundrel that was shouting in the House of Lords, dowsed in sauce, pounding on the mountain of a crown of horns, He would drown in his surroundings of amounting thorns, counting pawns that he touted, sprouting into clowns of scorn, He was astounded by the groundling he would crown in force, bound in wars, drowning in the founding of this sound of yours I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers   I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers Metal teeth, He was the nettle in the settled beef, kettle grease severing the rebel and the treble thief, He was to level with the devil with amphetamines, getting green with a weathered pebble when he’s seventeen, He was dishevelling from revelling in mezzanines, evergreen as the beggared tremor on the seven seas, It was the ketamine that fettered in discrepancies, heaven’s breeze settling and lessening his tendencies Famine thinking, He was enamoured with the glamour shrinking, damage-slinging with a dragon’s talons on his cabin’s linking, He was stammering his grammar but the maddest thing is, lavishing his malice on the baddest as the planet’s sinking, He would slam a flattened gallon in his saddened drinking, hammering the callous with his palette as his talent’s limping, He was balancing the stratus of his acid thinking, rapid, shrinking ballad that was stranded on a granite kingpin I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers   I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers   I pour through the rawness and yammer, Flawless, more than enormous with grammar, Lawless, the chorus immortal, you spanner Ignore us and forfeit the raucous of bangers
5.
TRACK FIVE PRIME TIME [Prod. Muckaniks] Stomach the exposure, Summit of a dozen wooden soldiers, mumbling in Russian to his cousin in a Rover, “Doesn’t the discussion cover runners?” then it’s over, rumblings of blushing was but nothing to this ogre, Bussing a revolver, gushing in his motor, stuffing it in gutters, it’s a something for the chauffeur, Tumbling though puzzles of befuddlement that smoulder, stumbling through love-ins with this glutton when he’s sober Ruined teen, He was fluent in the newest screen, truest dreams in his newness, stupid like the US scene, He spewed a bluish green, fluid like his truant schemes, clueless, he, moved upon the cupids that the jewellers clean, So like the jewellers plea to drool upon the ghoulish sea of rudeness, he would use his prudish cruelness to imbue and please, He’s on a looting spree of fruitlessness and prudency, shooting me, and brewing my pursuers into bluish tea Prime time, a lifeline to the rhyme mimes, Eyes shine with a bright mind on the rhyme grind, High crimes when you write lines on the side lines, Eyes blind to the rhymes lined like a pipeline   Prime time, a lifeline to the rhyme mimes, Eyes shine with a bright mind on the rhyme grind, High crimes when you write lines on the side lines, Eyes blind to the rhymes lined like a pipeline Weapon grade, He steps to sever with a metal blade, rebels laid never to have settled on his nettled brain, He would kettle the bespeckled with his pestle spade, sheckles laid, wrestled from the perils he would set ablaze, He was reddened by the dead in his infected maze, meant to blaze, deadened by the heads in his respected gaze, He was fettered by the better he had met in pain, metal blade entering the shepherds of this treasured game Shovelling in sewage, He was brewing undercover but he’ll do it, he’s a punter suing wonder for its younger ruins, Another strewing of a number for the fun of doing, clutter viewing, uttered in the thunder of his hunger stewing, Another plunger, it’s the colour of his stunning viewing, summers he would wander into yonder, which he’s under doing But yet he’d lumber as a plumber in the under tubing, cluttered in this slumber, he would suffer cause he’d done pursuing Prime time, a lifeline to the rhyme mimes, Eyes shine with a bright mind on the rhyme grind, High crimes when you write lines on the side lines, Eyes blind to the rhymes lined like a pipeline   Prime time, a lifeline to the rhyme mimes, Eyes shine with a bright mind on the rhyme grind, High crimes when you write lines on the side lines, Eyes blind to the rhymes lined like a pipeline Handshake for the clam cake at the Klan bake, Cram steaks like a damn ape with a damn jake, Van mates, they began hate with a tanned plate, Bran flakes and the can crates they would ram, baked Man states they should span fate at a grand rate, Hang, mace every tanned face on the landscape, Hand ached as it banged late on the back gate, Strap taped, it’s a trap shaped for the flag-draped Bang, when he goes home for a smoke, But he’s so road, he would blow foam in a swoosh, Bang, it’s his postcode that would show, His devotion to the boatloads full of Kush, Bang, he would load cro with a rope, But the no-show would be close, roaming the bush, Bang, but his close bro had a post, With the popo, it’s a low grow, they were stoosh Prime time, a lifeline to the rhyme mimes, Eyes shine with a bright mind on the rhyme grind, High crimes when you write lines on the side lines, Eyes blind to the rhymes lined like a pipeline   Prime time, a lifeline to the rhyme mimes, Eyes shine with a bright mind on the rhyme grind, High crimes when you write lines on the side lines, Eyes blind to the rhymes lined like a pipeline
6.
TRACK SIX ACT THREE [Prod. Ded Tebiase] Hopeless teen, He was supposed to mope and note his dreams, go for broke, and blow ferocious smoke into the coke and weed, It’s the hypnosis of his broken dream, closest thing to Moses as he closes with the focus of a locust scream, He was the locus of a bogus scene, hostesses that notice and approach him for the omens in his dopamine, He was deposed with soap, a rope he’d need, he was slow to float in oaken boats that float into the broken stream Nature trips, He was in Rage amidst the tapered lips, famous quips and the stainless vacantness of paperclips, In his jail he would fail to behave a bit, save for fits of forsaking Satan on some favour shit, It was Rage in which he’d catered to create a blitz of pay-per-clicks that were trained evasively on laser chips, He’s unveiling his behaviour in a trader’s script, stay for tips, he’d persuade his maker with a frayed eclipse Act three, It was the fact he would strap trees from a black sack that was yapped from the factory, He was trapped by the yats, he dispatched three, an exact match, it was apt to distract me Act three, It was the fact he would strap trees from a black sack that was yapped from the factory, He was trapped by the yats, he dispatched three, an exact match, it was apt to distract me Rotten and detested, Shotter comes a cropper when he’s tested, trodden at the bottom of the guest list, Spotted by a moralist that’s ominously nested, grovelling and toppled by a bottling he’s left with, Fossils of his follicles were horribly collected, monocles were soluble and washable, he guessed it, Novel in his modelling of what’s to be expected, a comical apostle that colossally invested Major win, He would’ve shaved but it’s a vagrant’s skin, he was entertaining the assailants that would rage within, He’s a painter that’s decaying as he’s bathed in sin, papering the failures of his maker with an ancient grin, Here’s the nation to the jailer of the greatest thing, which was sent as payment to the patient and abrasive king, He was stationed in complacency, the greatest sin, while the state surveillance push debasement of his Asian skin Act three, It was the fact he would strap trees from a black sack that was yapped from the factory, He was trapped by the yats, he dispatched three, an exact match, it was apt to distract me Act three, It was the fact he would strap trees from a black sack that was yapped from the factory, He was trapped by the yats, he dispatched three, an exact match, it was apt to distract me
7.
TRACK SEVEN FINEST HOUR [Prod. Farmabeats] As the circle grows, He was working in conversant prose, versus those vermin he would service in the circus show, He’s determined to be worsened by external woe, nervous throes of this furnace, purpose of a serpent pro, He was squirming as a thermos in eternal snow, burning slow, he’s a surgeon working on his wordless flow, He’s the verdict that was spurting through his bourbon nose, hermit mode, he was lurking, purposeless in urban robes, It was shirking the emergence of a burden, though working on a sermon was the burning he was yearning so, He would learn of the disturbing and affirming prose, wording shows workings of a murder as the curtains close Step aboard, He wept the weather through a tethered cord, message board letter for abettors of his chequered board, He would fetter his forever in a debtor’s hoard, get ignored then forget whatever that was said and yawn, He’s regretting ever tenner in a beggar’s paws, getting more pressure than the embers in a metal forge, He was rendered as the vendor of forevermore, never saw terror like the error of her menopause Finest hour, He’d chime a siren on the Eiffel Tower, rivals cower soured in the shower of his stifled power, A title scoured by disciples of his Bible, now our idols would be siphoned through his vinyl of a rifle flower Finest hour, He’d chime a siren on the Eiffel Tower, rivals cower soured in the shower of his stifled power, A title scoured by disciples of his Bible, now our idols would be siphoned through his vinyl of a rifle flower Acid in his brain, He’s a savage, she’d embarrass him again, it’s a marriage that he ravaged with his fame, Damage was the game, it was packaged as a passage in a play that he lavished on her arrogance and name, Famished from her pain, it was baggage for the vanishing array of her travels, she was banished with her chains, Palace of decay was her hammock in comparison to lanes of her havoc in a balancing display, Callous, he betrayed the mechanics of her vanishing away with the malice that he’d average in a day, Managing to fray the imbalance, she’s a palette for his paint, she was battling the maddening of prey Beast of burden, He would feast upon a meagre person, he’s uncertain of the eager serpent that would shriek aspersions, His mystique would speak of burning in a week of learning sermons of the sleeper vermin swerving his beleaguered squirming, He would worsen through his cursive, it would read subversive versus the critique of urban yearning that his week determined, He was turning in the furnace of his litre bourbon, people person but he’d speak of curtains, it would seem disturbing Finest hour, He’d chime a siren on the Eiffel Tower, rivals cower soured in the shower of his stifled power, A title scoured by disciples of his Bible, now our idols would be siphoned through his vinyl of a rifle flower Finest hour, He’d chime a siren on the Eiffel Tower, rivals cower soured in the shower of his stifled power, A title scoured by disciples of his Bible, now our idols would be siphoned through his vinyl of a rifle flower Finest hour, He’d chime a siren on the Eiffel Tower, rivals cower soured in the shower of his stifled power, A title scoured by disciples of his Bible, now our idols would be siphoned through his vinyl of a rifle flower Finest hour, He’d chime a siren on the Eiffel Tower, rivals cower soured in the shower of his stifled power, A title scoured by disciples of his Bible, now our idols would be siphoned through his vinyl of a rifle flower
8.
TRACK EIGHT HERMIT STUBBLE [Prod. Sean Peng] Confusing smiles, He was lucid in a human trial of cupids, he was stupid and was booted for his muted guile, He was losing his delusions in a cubic mile of music he was fusing with reclusion in his wounded style, He was looting disillusionment that rooted while muted, he’s a unit of collusion with the putrid smiles, He polluted the exclusion in diluted piles of musing, he concluded he was useless until proven wild Future calls, He’s a recruiter for a super trawl of mutants that had neutered every suitor in the music hall, He was shooting with a cupid in computer scrawl, who to call, but the few producers of this super-brawl It was sooner than the humour in his rumoured fall, brooding sprawl, he’s concluding humans have been chewed and mauled, It was rooted in the tumour of his lucid gall, muted all prudence, he was Judas with a coup to stall Hermit stubble He’s concerned at the returning trouble, learnt to juggle learning with the yearning for the burning rubble, He’s returning for a sermon on eternal struggle, herbal smuggled, he’s the vermin gurning in a churning bubble Hermit stubble He’s concerned at the returning trouble, learnt to juggle learning with the yearning for the burning rubble, He’s returning for a sermon on eternal struggle, herbal smuggled, he’s the vermin gurning in a churning bubble
9.
TRACK NINE JAWS OF DEATH [Prod. Morriarchi] Head in flames, He was the threading in a spreading plague that threatened to behead him with the ebbing of a guessing game, He was confessing but instead he was assessing blame for shredding every lesson that was heading to excessive shame, It was said it was the webbing of prophetic fame that led him to embed in the regretting that was sped in frame, He’s addressing his beheading as he’d led insane, treading flames as the deafened present for the men in chains    Open file, He’d be chosen in the frozen aisle, poster child for the locomotive of his vocal style, He had rose in cold devotion to the notes he’d piled, hoping while he’s broken, he would shoulder the explosive bile, It’s emotive like the potions in his broken vial, frozen in the roses he had chosen with a broken smile, Would be stolen like his motive in an open mile of smoking the aromas of his roses in a hopeless guile   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest   Stole visas, He was at home with a foam Jesus, growth ceases in his cold soul as his dole freezes, He’s consoling the troll of his own thesis, thrown peaches as his sole goal of control breaches, He was sold in a scroll of his own speeches, stone pieces of his old bowl on his zone’s beaches, He was told on the phone he was mould, each his own, he was grown as a clone of his treatise Laced with brine,  They were debating as they tasted wine, straight in line for the wasted pages of an ancient mime, They were hated by the nation but had waited fine, faces time for the stasis pasted from a racist mind, They’d await intimidation to erase their spine, race with nine bassists and the famous with a faded sign, They were fated to sedation in frustrated crime, space and time raided by the masons in a faceless bind   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest   Third degree, He was encircled in a verbal sea he gurgled, he’s alerted to the hurdle by the burnt debris, He’s in his journal as he hurtles in the urgency, learns that he’s eternal by the herbal in his circuitry, It’s a rehearsal for commercials of a stern decree that’s hurtful in its kernels of its churlishness and courtesy, It was infernal in its purple and its burgundy, turning in the furnace of his circle and its certainty Rolling stone, He was a Trojan in erosions home, smoking foam from the open ocean through a stolen phone, He was emboldened by the motions of a POTUS clone, motive known only by the focused that had voted stoned, He had floated with devotion to this bogus throne, toneless poem quoted in hypnosis with condolence shown, He was focusing ferociously, his opus thrown hopelessly, devoted to the vote-less and Osmosis-prone   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest   Jaws of death, He was the cause of an enormous mess that sort of left him sorting through the mortar in his tortured flesh, It was the slaughter that would form him in the laws of chess, quarter left, he was sort of flawless in his hornet’s nest
10.
TRACK TEN ULYSSES [Prod. Leaf Dog] Vacant seat, He was adjacent to an ancient sea of hate, intimidation and conflation with his agency, He would wait until the nation would be racially embracing of his face and til causation became blatancy, He would state would some insatiable complacency that cradle-to-the-grave was not forsaking of his vagrancy, He would then incinerate his fate with make-believe inhalers, he’s insane and intimating he was masonry Sands of time, He’s the man and a philandered swine, standard line slandering her gander of his pantomime, She was anchored by the candour of this Frankenstein, magnified by the shattered standards she would magnetise, He disentangled for a scramble in her canvas eyes, standard size, with a mangled ramble on the ankle side, So he landed in the blackness where her madness lies, stanzas die with a thankful tranquil in the campus skies Ulysses, He was the truant of his eulogies, you can see this mutant introducing you to mutinies, He was wooing as a ruler of the brutally illumined and was chewing on the humour of the newly free Ulysses, He was the truant of his eulogies, you can see this mutant introducing you to mutinies, He was wooing as a ruler of the brutally illumined and was chewing on the humour of the newly free Make a stand, He’d be made forsaken in the spacious lands, famous brand, he was waiting patiently for gracious hands, He was staking his awakening and taking grands, greatest strand in the fake enabling of heinous plans, He’s entertaining for the payment of a shaken hand, nation plans, they were scintillating in the glacier sands, He’s indicating as the pagan congregation stands, simulating scaling on the failing conservation lands Pavement comet, He was mistaken of what fate had promised, brazen novice, he would wake impatiently to paint a sonnet, He was aching from surveillance of an ancient forest, latent chronic in his vacant bonnet, he was draining vomit, He’s creating the replacement of a blatant goddess, braving solace while she’s entertaining the surveying novice, He would fray until the sayings in his braying promise strayed and modest flailings of the day became his staying honest Ulysses, He was the truant of his eulogies, you can see this mutant introducing you to mutinies, He was wooing as a ruler of the brutally illumined and was chewing on the humour of the newly free Ulysses, He was the truant of his eulogies, you can see this mutant introducing you to mutinies, He was wooing as a ruler of the brutally illumined and was chewing on the humour of the newly free Vapour hook, It was a favour or a wayward look savoured for the raver that was papered to a flavoured book, He’s the engraver for the failures of an ancient crook, failing, his behaviour was forsaken and awake and shook, His creator was a player in a major book that layered in the traitors and the haters with a laboured rook, The remainder of the razors in his neighbour’s look raced into the trailer with the stranger of the chamber cooks Odyssey, He’s in the collars of a comedy, hollering a scholar for a monitor of oddity, He was novel in his promise and his honesty, grovelling in solace for the goddess of apology, He’s astonished at the comma in his policy of homage, it’s a sonnet to the sonics of monotony He would modestly demolish his philosophy, solid in the knowledge he’s symbolic in his colony Ulysses, He was the truant of his eulogies, you can see this mutant introducing you to mutinies, He was wooing as a ruler of the brutally illumined and was chewing on the humour of the newly free Ulysses, He was the truant of his eulogies, you can see this mutant introducing you to mutinies, He was wooing as a ruler of the brutally illumined and was chewing on the humour of the newly free
11.
TRACK ELEVEN MIDNIGHT [Prod. Harvey Gunn] Fade to red, He was the sadist that would raise the dead, made to shred patience like it’s bacon on a shade of bread, He would break-in to the basements and the vacant sheds, taking meds then replaying statements he was made to dread, He would fade into complacence as he stayed, instead making beds as he waiting patiently to take the heads, But their lateness was the basis of his aching legs, snaking threads of his entertainment he had made to fled Dining swung, As he’d try to pirate a reclining lung, highly strung, he’d deny the quiet with his shining tongue, He was pining misalignment with the dying sun, buying guns to imply the riot of the dying young, He would whine of the design of his desired fun, hired gun for the dire quiet of a crying nun, He’s defiant in his siphoning of drying slums, lying dumb with a knife inside of his inspired tongue Living in the city of the sin like, Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like, And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe, Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight Living in the city of the sin like, Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like, And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe, Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight Chasm of the void, It’s the spasms that were damaging this droid, it would stammer as his grammar was destroyed, Scanners were deployed through the plasm that’s enamoured with this toy, it bedazzled the assassin of his joy, Tragic, he was buoyed by the panic, he was manic in his poise, he would vanish in the static and the noise, Planets were destroyed in the damage of its halogens, the void was the annals of the animals of Freud Pariah in the dust, It’s a fire, he was dying as he must, she was crying on the pyre of his trust, Dire in his lust, she’s a liar that inspired his disgust, she inquired of the spire that combusts, Aspired to be just, it was prior to the fire and the dust, He was vying for the pyre to be crushed, Desire to be mush, he was crying for the choir that was hushed as his wires were retired in a rush Living in the city of the sin like, Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like, And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe, Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight Living in the city of the sin like, Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like, And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe, Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight Living in the city of the sin like, Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like, And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe, Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight Living in the city of the sin like, Divvy up the crippling of pitying a king like, And I’m pretty with a ditty and a windpipe, Sitting with the grittiest of writtens when it’s midnight
12.
TRACK TWELVE CROWN [Prod. Badhabitz] Drop the beat, It was the equal of an Oxford Street, noxious heat, it’s a dream of Eden that was obsolete, He’s was regal in a sea of mediocrity, reading him the evil of a re-appealing Socrates, He was breathing, “how medieval is bureaucracy? People are illegal and deceitful in hypocrisy”, He’d retreat in the cathedral of theocracy, weasel that could feasibly conceive of a democracy Puppet wakes, He would be coveting a dozen fakes, summit shakes as he plummets, tumbling to fucking snakes, He was a grumble in the nothingness, a stomach ache, cutting up a runner into hundreds as the blood escapes, The fun of stuffing a discussion for his running mate, buttoned and disgusting he was rushing in his cunning’s wake, He was gunning for a something or a dumb mistake, summers of her blushing while they’re running on the rubber lake Coming for the crown, He was sonning and encumbering the clowns that were running with the funniest of nouns, Running with a sound that was rumbling the scummiest of frowns, it was running in the crummiest of towns Coming for the crown, He was sonning and encumbering the clowns that were running with the funniest of nouns, Running with a sound that was rumbling the scummiest of frowns, it was running in the crummiest of towns User face, He was a human with a boozer’s taste, looting space with a new computer in a coup de grace, He’d eschew the blue recruiter for the lunar base, who to chase, but the slew accruing the producers place, He would do a huge accoutrement to gruesome fate, losing race to the shrewd pursuing of the news of late, He’d recruit the few consumers that his crew defaced, rumour-based ruins in the future of his music base Streets of rage, He’d retreat into his seat and gauge, either way, he was meeting demons of his week today, He’s but meat in the besieging of his easel page, foetal stage, he was speaking peacefully but people change, He’s the weasel that retreats into the meagre stage of weakness and obliqueness that’s the genus of his equal say, It was gleeful in its evil and its venal way, lethal sage that was preaching reasons for illegal pay Coming for the crown, He was sonning and encumbering the clowns that were running with the funniest of nouns, Running with a sound that was rumbling the scummiest of frowns, it was running in the crummiest of towns Coming for the crown, He was sonning and encumbering the clowns that were running with the funniest of nouns, Running with a sound that was rumbling the scummiest of frowns, it was running in the crummiest of towns Speaking evil, He was the reason for the weak and feeble, decent people freezing as he preaches from a screaming eagle, It was treasonously bleak and he was seeking legal meaning for the demons that were teasing in his streaming sequel, But he would team with the illegals to critique the people’s gleefully deceitful interceding of them being equal, He was feasibly medieval in a bleak cathedral, sneaking for a peak of the upheaval from the leaking steeple Maddest dream, He would open up the can of beans of habits that were broken in the oceans of his anarchy, He was woven as a token of humanity, rolling with the rodents that were smoking in the canopy, He’s emboldened by the omens in his tapestry of malice that was closing before glowing as a battery, It’s exposing his evolving as a travesty, moment of condolence as he’s swollen from the apathy  Coming for the crown, He was sonning and encumbering the clowns that were running with the funniest of nouns, Running with a sound that was rumbling the scummiest of frowns, it was running in the crummiest of towns Coming for the crown, He was sonning and encumbering the clowns that were running with the funniest of nouns, Running with a sound that was rumbling the scummiest of frowns, it was running in the crummiest of towns
13.
TRACK THIRTEEN TAKE A BOW [Prod. GhostTown] Stellar rays, A fella sprays in the cellar grade, lemonade haze, it’s a day for the seller pay, The smell of spray is the fragrance that serenades basements of vagrants and sadists and renegades, They headed straight to the gate as they bettered fate, placing a payment to masons for severed slates, They detonate all the places that levitate, feigning and staining the day that the terror breaks Festering, Testing of the Wesson he’s indentured in, wrestling the lessons, it’s a testament to mescaline, Pestering, resting in fluorescence with a jester’s grin, entering the session as the vessel he’s successful in, Gentle king, central in his mental was the menthol sting, gesturing and peddling confessions with a pencil swing Censoring, embezzling the devil with a nectarine, mentoring potential, he’s resentful as the rental spins Take a bow, take a bow, Take a bow, And cow tow to the sounds of the now, Round to the crown with a pound of the loud, Ground it and mount it, it’s hounding the drowned   Take a bow, take a bow, Take a bow, And cow tow to the sounds of the now, Round to the crown with a pound of the loud, Ground it and mount it, it’s hounding the drowned He listened, heating up the old soup, His gold tooth was positioned from the eating of the cold food, He’s to be christened in the rose hues, Of dole queues, he’s conditioned to the meeting with his old blues, It’s his suspicion, and he holds clues, That his beating of his demons was a mission for his soled shoes, For he envisioned that his soul moves, In position, it has stiffened but his mission was to hold fuse, He’d treat remission as a gold boom, As mould grew on condition it was treated as a bold move, A deep division as his prose oozed, A cold bruise from the gritting and admitting it’s an old wound, A weeping vision of a joke loomed, His own room, a collision of ambition and an old feud, His disposition was his cold stew, In its deficiency, existence was imprisonment for old fools Doubt besets, He’ll reap reason from a drought cassette, he’d sleep, leaving his achievements in a mount of debt, He’d sleep, breathing in an ounce of ket, he’ll keep treason as a feeling, he was leaving as a malcontent, He’d keep wheezing as he’d mount regret, he’ll meet creatures and their demons that were heaving from a shouted bet, He’ll heat, steaming up the alphabet, He’s weak, dreaming in the heathens that were seething but without regret Take a bow, take a bow, Take a bow, And cow tow to the sounds of the now, Round to the crown with a pound of the loud, Ground it and mount it, it’s hounding the drowned   Take a bow, take a bow, Take a bow, And cow tow to the sounds of the now, Round to the crown with a pound of the loud, Ground it and mount it, it’s hounding the drowned Take a bow, take a bow, Take a bow, And cow tow to the sounds of the now, Round to the crown with a pound of the loud, Ground it and mount it, it’s hounding the drowned   Take a bow, take a bow, Take a bow, And cow tow to the sounds of the now, Round to the crown with a pound of the loud, Ground it and mount it, it’s hounding the drowned
14.
TRACK FOURTEEN SUN-TZU [Prod. Illinformed] Look around, He was the butcher in a crooked sound hooked into a booker that was shushing in a sugar cloud, He’d be snookered into cooking in his wooden gown, looking like a hoodlum, it was pudding for this wooded town, She had put us into booklets of her bullish nouns, shouldn’t frown, she was pulling goodness from this crooked crown, It’s the woman that had pushed him into hooded clowns, fully drowned in the woody goodness of a bullet sound Lost in mazes, He was adopted by agnostic racists, cosmic places tossed into the frosting of his foster’s glazing, He had lost it in the Costa when they offered placing Oscars for his pondering of consciousness in hostage pages, Through the optics of his toxic-ness he squandered ages, prospered into the ominousness, tossed into the toxin’s traces, It’s hypnotic how psychotic and chaotic Rage is, costing him a comet for the sonics of exotic stasis Front tooth on a bunned zoot, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala Sun-Tzu to you bum crews, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala Front tooth on a bunned zoot, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala Sun-Tzu to you bum crews, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala This’ll eat me, He would piss graffiti on a missile treaty, little creepy as it’s sizzled, whistled to a gristled specie, They whisked a genie that was drizzled on the shrivelled 3-D riddle that would cripple, it was tripled as a fizzled freebie, He risked a chisel that initialled his official CV, civil as he swivelled to the ripples in his little TV, He was fickle in his pickling of whistles, greasy trickles of a sickle and the tickle of a sizzled CD Born a sinner, He was reforming as a tortured winner, ordered dinner on a warm porcelain supporter’s liver, It was dawning that disorders would deform him quicker, sorting inner organs in a warming to importing liquor, He was yawning from the boring of performing sicker, courting the reformist of his jaundice as he’s swarming Twitter, He would pause as the conformists would assault his bitter forfeiting of normal in a sprawling of this awful critter Front tooth on a bunned zoot, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala Sun-Tzu to you bum crews, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala Front tooth on a bunned zoot, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala Sun-Tzu to you bum crews, When I come through, spitting that lalalalalala
15.
TRACK FIFTEEN FROZEN NUMB [Prod. Chemo] Head of snakes, He was fed into a shredder, flakes spreading into webbing for the legend in a petal shape, He was led into forever through the metal gate, headed through a feather that was tethered to a leathered ape, He would enter as a member of the treasured eight, beggars that were wedded to the cheddar that they never make, He was levered into pleasure as their head of state, detonates the weather then endeavours to dissever fate, It would pepper his successors through the tremor shakes, metal flakes settling as letters but for heaven’s sake, He would fetter as a leper that would never wake, beckoning the nectar of togetherness in meta states He’s a monster jockey that got lost in offies, Stocky, he’s not Rocky, he’s a toff that copies sophistry from Costa coffee, He had prospered as a softy in a fostered copy, Sloppy with his coffers, he was glossy in a frosty posse, He had lost me when he offered up his soggy toffee, Groggy but he’s snobby, he was coughing up a shoddy hobby His wads are soggy from the molly and the bossy bobby, Sloppy with his posse, he’s a body in a snotty lobby Jump to the moon, A tune pumped in the room as he swooned from the lumps he consumed, Bumps in the spoon to be dumped in the clumps of his doom, he’s as pumped as the chumps that were strewn, Months of this goon on the hunt for the stumps of his gloom, but this punt was affront to the blues, Blunt in the news that the brunt of his wonder would ooze out the front in a hunger for booze, Stunts would consume him in blunders that plundered his fuse, he was once like a monk in his pews, Runt, he was loose with his screws dumped, slumped with his shoes, he’s a lump from the thump of the news Frozen numb, He spoke the omens til the rope was done, chosen one, he’s the hopeless spokesman of a smoking gun, He was rolling up the potent with the local scum, swollen thumb stroking to reopen and expose the sun, Frozen numb, He spoke the omens til the rope was done, chosen one, he’s the hopeless spokesman of a smoking gun, He was rolling up the potent with the local scum, swollen thumb stroking to reopen and expose the sun, A game of chess, He would fade until the blazed the cess, may supress faces that ingrained upon this famous chef, He would stay bereft, pacing in attainment’s mess, may confess he was wasting paper on an ancient guess, It was blatant, yes, hatred was his way to stress, sacred quest for the vacant statements that he laid to rest, But his wait was less, hazy in his basement dress, shaven chest, he displayed amazement as the nation’s best, But as the weight was pressed, sadists would be made to test their latest entertainment on his ailing and derailing stress, He was racing west, taking his replacement’s zest and faking disengagement from his hatred in a blatant mess Wooden flask, He’s the bullet in the looking glass, cooking brass pudding, know it’s crooked but you shouldn’t ask, He was shook at them but goodness, it was looking sparse, woman with a hoodlum she was shushing in a woollen mask, But his pussyfooting wouldn’t cheat the jooking fast, hooked in like a good’un to the cushion in a wooden cask It was pushed into the soot and then was put in grass, looking like it should’ve, it was footed by his bookish past Fallen war, He’s more an organ of a cautious lore sprawling in his fraudulence, the raucousness of Ford Accords, He’s a fortress in his shortening, this portion’s gore, quartering his boredom with his Jordan on his gormless jaw, He was gorging on the hornless as he stormed ashore, crawling to the chorus while he’s forfeiting his nauseous awe, It was gorgeous in its formlessness, the flawless thaw of portraitists of portions of his lawlessness and cautious gore Frozen numb, He spoke the omens til the rope was done, chosen one, he’s the hopeless spokesman of a smoking gun, He was rolling up the potent with the local scum, swollen thumb stroking to reopen and expose the sun Frozen numb, He spoke the omens til the rope was done, chosen one, he’s the hopeless spokesman of a smoking gun, He was rolling up the potent with the local scum, swollen thumb stroking to reopen and expose the sun Frozen numb, He spoke the omens til the rope was done, chosen one, he’s the hopeless spokesman of a smoking gun, He was rolling up the potent with the local scum, swollen thumb stroking to reopen and expose the sun Frozen numb, He spoke the omens til the rope was done, chosen one, he’s the hopeless spokesman of a smoking gun, He was rolling up the potent with the local scum, swollen thumb stroking to reopen and expose the sun

about

My second album, 'Patient Zero' was released on the 10th of January 2020. The album is produced by Leaf Dog, Baileys Brown, Badhabitz, Illinformed, Muckaniks, Chemo, Pitch 92, Ded Tebiase, GhostTown, Sean Peng, Morriarchi, Harvey Gunn and Farmabeats. In other words: it is the best production line-up ever in UK hip-hop. I created a new style of rhyming called Syllablism on my last album, 'Riot Gear For The Soul', which featured Chester P.

The highly lyrical 15-track album features Skuff, Harvs Le Toad and Vitamin G. The entire album is set in an alternative universe called 'Rage' in which anything is possible, however intangible or conceptual.

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The following takes place in an alternative universe called ‘Rage’, in which the common tongue is Syllablism, or the act of speaking only in related, corresponding words. The people of this world eat and drink, forget and forgive, repair and destroy like we do, except this world offers them more. Like how the brain only operates at 5%, so does our world and the space in which it exists. The people of Rage operate at 100, and so their story will be told in a hundred portions. I lived there for 6 months myself, but was released onto Earth when my existence became known. There, I am known as Patient Zero. Here, I am just a writer, and so here I will tell their stories.

BIO

Prime Sinister, is a 24-year old Londoner and musical revolutionary. As the creator of his own rhyme style, “Syllablism”, Prime Sinister has crafted songs in which every word, line and verse are not only interconnected but for the first time, symmetrical. Prime Sinister’s rhyme style can probably be more simply defined as the consecutive use of rhyming syllable patterns. But, on listening to it in action, it’s clearly more complex. The words arrange themselves into sequence – syllable families, reunited to tell stories of a dystopia, expanding themselves naturally into verses. They play out in their natural state, unpolluted, forming elaborate stories almost independent of interference from the writer. It is the act of relinquishing ego and letting the words play themselves out, however disorienting – it is as if the writer does not exist, and we are listening to language unadulterated from the manipulations of man. The very act of making an album in a singular style is a unique experiment in hip-hop – and Prime Sinister has done it with flair in abundance.

Growing up in London in the 2000’s, Prime Sinister was exposed to music that would change the course of his life. Consuming albums from Nas’ Illmatic to Dizzee Rascal’s Boy In Da Corner, and encountering the music of the UK underground, Prime Sinister studied the greatest albums in hip hop and stumbled across the true hidden potential of the genre – and ushering hip-hop writing into the next stage of its evolution as an intricate, intellectual art form.

SOCIAL MEDIA: @PrimeSinister24 [Twitter], @primesinistermusic [Instagram], Gutterprose Records/Doors of Perception: @GutterproseRecords [Facebook]

www.gutterprose.com

credits

released January 10, 2020

Leaf Dog, Baileys Brown, Badhabitz, Illinformed, Muckaniks, Chemo, Pitch 92, Ded Tebiase, GhostTown, Sean Peng, Morriarchi, Harvey Gunn, Farmabeats, Skuff, Harvs Le Toad, Vitamin G, Beauvallis

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about

Prime Sinister London, UK

Growing up in London in the 2000’s, Prime Sinister was exposed to music that would change the course of his life. As the creator of an original style of rhyming called 'Syllablism', Prime Sinister studied the greatest albums in hip hop and stumbled across the true hidden potential of the genre and ushered hip-hop writing into the next stage of its evolution as an intricate, intellectual art form. ... more

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