Cassette tape with fold-out tracklist map. Comes with a portable cassette player so you can listen to the album as it was intended, on a walk. Numbered edition of 20.
Includes unlimited streaming of Walking Tours
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 7 days
edition of 20
Purchasable with gift card
$20USDor more
Cassette + Digital Album
Cassette tape of Walking Tours featuring the regular album on side A and the instrumental version on side B.
Instrumentals are exclusive to this tape!
Limited, numbered edition of 20.
Includes unlimited streaming of Walking Tours
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 2 days
edition of 20
Purchasable with gift card
$10USDor more
lyrics
Isolated, spirit too broke to believe
in a sick mom & the sickness she imposed on her seed,
watching those around him drown in oceans of greed
& never heard of such a thing as an emotional need.
But for him, there were physical needs.
He kept seeing how the big fish ate the little fish in the sea
& all he wanted was a minute to...
to figure out who he was & had ambitions to be,
with every tick on the wall clock meticulously scripted
in the small pond where he was dipped, imprisoned.
1st bell: the bullies would start it off.
2nd bell: math class, he couldn't chart a course.
Escape to the clinic, faking a sort of *cough*,
then off to chow time, fish sticks with tartar sauce.
Gym class, laps tryna outrun the predators,
don't make waves & they won't catch the scent of you.
Watching so-called peers outpace his ass,
wanted some safety, maybe a date, but afraid to ask,
struggling to keep up, believing he was stupid,
wasn't like the others & every one of them knew it.
Study hall & he kept to himself,
at the end of the bells, home to mom, desperate for help.
To say mom was nurturing would be perjury,
but ain't her fault, she ain't been right since the surgery.
He played the good son, put some work in
that daddy couldn't do cuz he was living with his girlfriend.
He liked to play his Xbox, like the other kids,
listened to Pac & Slipknot, like the other kids,
watched flicks where people got shot, like the other kids,
& some of their folks acted a lot like his mother did.
Picture tryna maintain,
other kids dads & moms had jobs profiting from people's pain.
Other kids had tons of friends, he only had one.
But that friend had a basement full of dad's guns.
Picked one up & no longer felt that dumb,
"Who's the faggot now? Who's the little fat cunt?"
What's a human life worth? If it's taken in a battle, it's a casualty,
in the burbs, it's a tragedy,
in the hood, it's a statistic, but point a biscuit
at some rich kids & the hypocrite bitches'll go ballistic.
Ain't like he'd be missed if he vanished from school,
that is, unless he did some shit that could air on the news,
you know. He really need some space to get his head right,
maybe a trusted friend to open up & let fly,
won't let no one see his poetry & death rhymes,
red ink, bone white paper where his pen slide.
Instead he kept it inside & stayed petrified,
but on the surface looked as common as the next guy.
Homework, bedtime, alarm clock, dread time,
back to the same grind, maybe today they'll let him shine.
Maybe today they'll let him shine.
Maybe today they'll let him shine.
Maybe today they'll let him shine.
Maybe today they'll let him shine.
credits
from Walking Tours,
released September 10, 2021
Written & produced by Fellowman.
Mixed & mastered by Mike Moxham.
Literate, lyrical, hard-hitting hiphop from Charlottesville, Virginia, USA.
Fellowman is a
rapper, producer, promoter and educator, the director of the Nine Pillars Hiphop Cultural Fest, co-founder of Rugged Arts Hiphop Showcase, and contributor to the Virginia Film Festival....more
