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Lost Tracks Vol. 1

by BRSMSN (BARS IMPSON)

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1.
HiYA! 03:20
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HI YA Hit you in the jaw Comin raw BAH! Got you like AAH NAH Run it from the motha fuckin top don’t stop Goin hella hard tell ya ma tell ya pa voila You aint seen nobody like muah Smellin mad fa (fire) when im steppin out the car All I ever hear yall broads yelling bars! As im hoppin in my rocket and headin for the stars jumpin out the whip while its still in slow motion I can not lose so for this im show boatin With my crew postin beatboxin and flowin Women want to know him but I give em no emotion I slang dope like im lookin for promotions Grind hella hard like im rippin through the coping Im getting dough n so my gold chain growin Wearin supa fly clothing lookin wetter than the ocean I rock a show for a pocket fulla bones Or at least a pound of dro lemme kop it on the low Yall don’t know Where I be at Dope I OD dat Blowin up big you know I fo seedat If you wante me no no no Fo freedat Hear me in ya rehab Spit crack you relapse I be dat Dude wit tha rhymes they repeat back Me have 20 20 vision like a sea lab D stroy the drums and A tack the key pad Flows gushin out like blood after you B stabbed Whatchoo gonna do bars comin for you Whatchoo gonna do bars comin for you Whatchoo gonna do bars comin for you Get your bars up boy I throw you under the bu
2.
Oohs & Aahs 03:15
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3.
Puffin' 02:13
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I aint trippin off none of thes hoes I aint trippin off one I got a hunnid these hoes See me standin out in front of these shows with a cup of lean poed puffin puffin tree smoke Don’t act youzza ratchet hit it from the back I could make it do a backflip she a little freak ooh ooh so nasty Gimme one night baby I could make magic she a real bad bitch I could be the chapstick let her be the cruise ship I could be the captain Steppin out the whip wit da 2 tone matchin Shoes on my feet im the new bo Jackson flashin Switchin postions im kickin it in these linens They listen what I be spittin im pushin it to the limit Invent it then reinvent the shit im smoking expennit Im bout my cars and my women everyone sour like lemons Truer than religious denim open my mouth and spit venom I want em get em don’t rent em on my grind since I was seven Im blowin clouds into heaven im ballin out like im kevin Durant and at the end of the day bottom line I aint stressin Annnd noooo chorus
4.
Harder than it Looks 04:16
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Hot as heat Heard I need some practice on my modesty Harder than it looks to be a half robotic prodigy Petri dishes fathered me C3p a brah to me I am not a species so the question what you callin me A beast A beast know she want to gimme dat/ No forgot the jimmy hat Couple shots of henney back/ homie where the remy at Eatin my acknowledgements /wil melt away your tummy fat Mothafucka come attack/ dodging yall I run and rap Money laps /I aint no funny tracks aint one to laugh Blowin up as buildings hit the ground and leave me under ash Flow is heavy homie try n spit it make ya tongue collapse Summer slaps/ smoking swishers sippin on a hunnid pabst so little homie quit playin Bars on bars and verbal clip keep sprayin Tippin waiters good long my shit keep payin Eating ordervs wit thick Chilean (chee layin) Cocaine bank account Ankle brace breakin out Type of shit that weigh me down the type of shit I drank about Pay me now before I play the crowd in case they chase me out Currently a mix but when the oven heats im cakin out Im a sinner mayne Hell inside my stomach so im spittin flames Yall be on some turkey shit they sleepin on yo triptophane Yall playin it like it’s a game Im managing a business Brsmsn also go by bars impson workin on my beats same time as my spittin hearing so bad cant hear myself lispin grew up in the oak b town and the Richmond bases loaded bars on bat heavy hittin back to hell youd think my middle name spittin flame impson aint a duck I aint a sittin lame im switchin plane bitches on a chain you think my government was spittin game holdin out a double cup but no I aint collectin change this medulla oblangada thinkin mula by the dollar on a yacht wit prima donna’s eatin chicken parmagiana in some jays and some gabana catchin rays in Guatemala smoking grape inside a jay under the shade with an iguana
5.
Ratchet atkins 02:54
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6.
airport intrelude 00:53
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7.
silver surfer 01:21
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about

Sandbox collective's Bars Impson Drops his next project in a series of progressive tapes, Though not associated with the previous "print" tapes he bring his same level of energy and charisma along with the knowledge he has gained since his last project navajo prints.

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released July 25, 2013

Written and Produced By Bars Impson

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BRSMSN (BARS IMPSON) San Francisco, California

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