Jesse Dangerously – “Count to Rap Hundred”

Jesse Dangerously is releasing a song for free every month and this is the first!

Visit patreon.com/rljd – pledge as little as $1 a month to keep more music coming. While you’re their, pre-order a limited edition lathe-cut 7″ single of this song and next month’s song, “Pumpkin Eater.”

This song was originally a demo for Peter Project, who was working on a producer album featuring different MCs over beats he was making using strictly vintage hardware samplers from hip-hop’s golden era, which he planned to record entirely to two-inch magnetic tape. A beautiful idea which turned out to be way too much work plus rappers are slow so he only got one song done as planned – “Peter North” which wound up on the Swamp Thing album Planet Murk – before he had to pack up the vintage gear to make room in his studio for a giant vibraphone so he could score Bomb Girls for CTV.

“I score bomb girls like Peter Project” sounds like a Wordburglar line! Except he’s married, so uh never mind.

I recorded this demo not on two-inch tape, but in Cool Edit Pro 2.0 which is more obsolete than vintage, even at the time in 2012. The lyrics were slightly worse and so was the title, and it just sat and uh aged gracefully. Now it’s the flagship of my new series of music that I! Cannot! Wait! To share with you!

Lyrics

Never take it for
Granted how I shake it and slam it and break through the granite to
Plant a stake and plan the future fate of the planet. My
Make-up is flawless, you couldn’t chip my polish regardless
You get demolished where the soulless take solace. I hold the the polish sausage
Hostage for the losses through the holes in your pockets – want some
Tips? Come equipped! Here, I’ll show you the process
No nonsense, no common sense, no sitting on the fence
Gods and men alike think they can bite with no consequence
They thought again once I got done with their friends. I hope you’re
Not offended – I’ve gone forensic on the longest
Undefended border, bend for water, call me Gunga Din
I’ve known you since before you were born – your mom’s a friend
Your dad’s not – I snuffed him with his pipe and his ascot. If I
Had three wishes, I’d wish vipers would back off, and that
I could change the world like Wendy Babcock, and last off
That every bad cop would catch a sock with a padlock

Yo Jesse! You rapped your ass off
You got no butt left homeboy what’s next
Go Jesse! You bout to blast off
If the math adds up, count to Rap Hundred
Yo Jesse! You rapped your ass off
You got no butt left homeboy what’s next
Go Jesse! You bout to blast off
Showing mad love, yes

I wrote this rhyme with you sound asleep and the bass turned way down low
Now there ain’t no sound but the crowd as it screams while they wait for me to start the show
Now are you ready for this? The petty dis on your sweaty lips dies as you realize who you’re messing with
It’s JESSE, motherfucker! JESSE, motherfucker, GET IT? You made a bad mistake – admit it

Never more never
Less, metaphors get addressed and stuck in letter drawers
Button pressers get it, I said it – yo fuck competitors
Yo soy un perdidor, homeboy – I set it off, I’m
Queen Latifah. You can’t see me? I’ve never seen you either
Senorita, jump the line and stab your predator. My
Eyes are sore from being a senator; I’m Lennon or
McCartney, depending on what’s better for the party
Men adored the rhythm then forgot me; let them ignore the
Art me and Peter project like films in dark theatres
We’re best in soft seaters, invested like loss leaders
Off-season pithy quips I toss like Joss Whedon’s
Bosses paid the cost it cost to be us!
I’m undercover cake boss, I’m Beta tapes, I’m caber toss
I’m chewing gum on the bed post with no flavour lost!
You wanna play the odds? while Peter flicks the fader cross like
K La Boss? Go eat some Weetabix or tater tots

I… don’t know, was that not a cool line
Obviously I thought it was cool, I said it

Yo Jesse! You rapped your ass off
Even that last line was pretty much fine
Go Jesse! We take our hats off
And we fill them up with money and we give them to you

I wrote that hook on a hour of sleep on the Greyhound after a show
I closed my rap book and I drifted off and I figured it was ready to go
And I regret it but whatever the verses had the words that were measured
Instead of half-formed curds for the cheddar
For worse or for better, I transformed dirt into treasure
Me and Peter like two birds of a feather
Forever