by Yung Pacemaker

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released May 5, 2015

Produced and engineered by Chris Yeterian and Mitch Schneider

Mixed by Chris Yeterian

Mastered by Bill Henderson at Azimuth Mastering



all rights reserved


Yung Pacemaker Hartford, Connecticut



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Track Name: Hunting Party
Hunting Party

The teams dressed in all black/ bloody Supreme hoodies and George Bush masks/
"cause money's all I need" is the message that we got from rap/ on the run
Gunning for 52 million/
to spread amongst the rest of our hungry generation/ but schools pile on the pills to help increase our patience/
and doctors pile on the bills for worthless medication/
and all our sights aimed at's a measly 52 million?/
It is/
and I promise it's pragmatic/
giving it to kids who can't afford and education/
and these kids are buying in to major debt from education/ and the banks are raking in some billions from education/ we'll give it away/and of course it's tax free/ cause who else is gonna try and help the future of our nation/
and all we're gonna take is 52 million/
(who's got that kind of money?) oh you don't know man?/ just ask the Taliban/
that's how much they were given by the Bush administration/
I'm trying to bring these facts all they way to the streets/ giving Crack addicts/ C4 packets/ and Flak Jackets/ crackin' crooked cops in the face with bad minton rackets/
rapping and we're not even bad at it/
so much so that it sounds like we're back at it/
but this is probably the first time/ the little boys dollar club has been on your mind/ but not mine/
I've been sitting on this for months/
and I've been itching to show it to all the rest of you punks/
while they're out on the Yachts mixing drinks and having fun/ we'll creep in the back door with blades and silenced guns/
loaded clips with hollow tips and you better believe we'll come/
all we want is 52 million/
and we're taking every penny from Kennedy vacation funds
Track Name: Obsidian

Two thousand sixteen and they want to be me now/
Roll up to the party in A.P.C. Chinos/
With bottles and bottles of San pelligrino/
I only sip that and a double ristretto/
Your boy's on the rocks like I'm Henri Rosseau/
I'm handsome and cunning like Nicholas Reo/
Bought too much supreme but I get it for free now/

Not yet but anyways I won't stop/
A C A B no friend to no cop/
Quick to dish tickets and even quicker to lock up/
Quick to crack kids and even quicker to pull Glocks/

Couldn't find a label when I wanted some help/
Tried to get it Golden got it put on a shelf/
Never asked for money I just earned it myself/
Eff Eff a kickstarter fund the record yourself/

That's why I'm/
Out here pinching pennies like I'm lavish Mitch/
It's lavish Mitch/
And you don't know the half of it/
I'll pay you with some chips and dip/
I'm looking for a sponsorship/
To keep on spittin' triplets/
For little kids/
Whose cigarettes/
Are burning fingertips/
Outside a house show/
stage dive off the kick drum/

fun in a bloody/
Givenchy hoodie/
Rottweiler Tiscci/
bangover queasy/
deals with A.P.C. like I wanna be Yeezy/ taught me /
Jesus bought me/
Bumpin' Watch The Throne like
Track Name: 20 Grams
20 Grams

I got coffee stains on everything I love/
got the choppas in the closet cause I'm tryin' to Pusha Ton/
stuffin' little brown bags in the backpack/
With 12 oz packs in the napsack/
It's usually jam packed/
With coffee and greenbacks/
Nothin' I don't lack/
Even a soundtrack/
I know jokes abound/
but I ain't horsing around/
this afternoon I'll move 40 pounds/
and you know that ain't pre ground/ yeah I said 40 pounds/ and that ain't boasting/
cause and while I'm roasting/
I got goons unloading/
sacks of raw/
product from Africa/
green from GUAT a Mala/
International trafficker/
it's a multi continental network/
of the world's largest export/
I'll prove myself an expert/
picking up notes of earth/
that you thought was a joke "it's dirt"/
observed only on a highly developed palate/
suns gone eclipsing crappy rappers with malice/
that means my tongue game royalty belongs in a palace/
simultaneously pickin' up subtleties/ and slappin' clown rappers crowns faster than I spit bars or cups of Green Mountain keurig brewed with dirty water/

I know y'all feeling that/
cause if you heard that/
you heard that/
My flow's on tap/
like it's cold brew/
Putting science to good use/
that nitro infused/
bubbling but it's smooth/
made in a toddy or tower/
quick to devour/
a cold brew in the shower/
pouring out shots of concentrate/
Knock em both back eyes start to dilate/
permeate my brain/
As I fixate on a brisk 6/8
I always got a grinder and a fish scale/
Apple fritters and a couple fly females/
And a timer pay attention to the details/
Getting zooted off espresso never pale ales/
But the whole team's tryin' to get zipped/
Watch your mug cause Cuda will chug half of it/
and even when my hand was split/ I only put cold brew in the morphine drip
Always out on my hustle/
I'm brewing or doing vocals/
You gotta preheat your vessel/
With water left in your kettle/
That concentrated ristretto/
That black as New England Metal/
I'm always looking for "better"
I'm never going to settle/
Just stomp it out like a pedal/
I'm always rocking raw denim/
Never sweats/
Track Name: Albino (ft. Cuda Cooder & Don Yayo)


Show up in a Chevy Impala/ 5 thousand dolla/
Rick Owens Bomba/
that I got from my momma/ for Christmas/ the missus/ is missing/ her Christmas gift/
on her big wish list/
so I guess that I'll get/ her a madewell vest/ with these rap game checks/
or something/
she said you know pacemaker/
it's funny cause I really only like white rappers/
And I said baaby/
you know I'm not an MC/
and I can't free style/
but the style are tips are free/
all you really got to do is study pictures of me/ and besides/
who else would you listen too?/
a bunch of those other goons?/
they don't even speak the truth/
and they you do then shoot/
I guess that means that I'm a gangster too/ no/

setting paces Doin' laps/
around the track/
I'm talking about raps/
running in circles with my lyrACS/

Wrote the whole album sober/
so these lines are more potent/
so my rhymes are more focused/
And no I don't smoke but my style's still dopest/
only kid in grey slacks and the black Nike Roche's/
on the toes/
how it goes/
but I want you to know/
when I rap about clothes/
man it's all trivial/
don't matter/
just a hobby/
or a habit at this point/
like sparking a tight joint/
but you don't really need it right?/
alright just keep telling yourself that/ and maybe you'll know that/
who influences you/
probably shouldn't be Wayne/
that kids gayer than Dwayne/
when he's look in' at the Rock's Johnson


Cuda Cooder in this mooda fooda/
nick told me not cuss I said fucker what the fooda/
saw your girlfriend and I smacked her in the boota/
kissed her on the mouth and I didn't knew her/

Gettin' tipsy sippin' raccoon blood/ I ain't saying I'm thug/
but I'll leave you slumped on the rug/
Get laid from time to time/
Im still a man dime/
Still doing crimes/
Still writing dope ass lines/
Drunk off simba/
Drunk off love/
Late for dinner ya call me young thug/
Call me a young man/ with this krink in my hand/
I love you Uncle Sam/

boy I fucked yo bitch and she claim she don't know me now/
I SWED everyday and I know it don't slow me down/
sky high on some Simba and that good kush/
cocaine rich like I'm mother fucking George bush/

Damn shawty heard that your a nympho/
Can I get your info/
I can be your pimp yo/
See her in a crop top/
Girl have you seen my argyle socks/
Shawty playing with my own cock/
In this drop top/
I got two now/
Which one should I choose now/
Try and guess like Blues Clues/
No food just espresso for breakfast/
Like Antwon, y'all grinding for Deathwish


Or Bronson/
keep a .45 tucked in the wasteband/
Swigging single origins while I'm rocking to Hot Damn/
No one like me in Connecticut grassland/
Everything is scarred like we're talking my right hand/
Pun on sacred/
Cuda's faded/
Mitch is basted/
Our fame's belated/
I only rhyme with my brothers/
I don't cuss so I know your moms love us/
I don't mess with verdé devils lettuce/
but I still spit on cops like I'm mister Paul Ference/
fast cars fast women and fast food/ the latter cause I spent all my money on the first two/
the laughter cause I saved all my stupid lines for verse two/
oh my bad/ is it verse three?/ probably/Still mé/ rhyme scheme/ cycle complete/


Put your lips around my brain/
and talk to me/

I'll leave some knowledge on your skin/
because the mood i'm in/
can't be satisfied/
and if you didn't want that spunk/
you should have hopped up off this junk/
girl I need to know it's love
Track Name: Mission
Track Name: A Phrygian Inclination (ft. Walrus)
A Phrygian Inclination


Nobody wants to hear you rhyme about how big your purse is/
or militant verses/
of puttin' rappers in hearses/
spraying shots and abundant curses/
Stuff your mouth with soap and go get the nurses/
linguistic filler vulgarity/
content with no content in those obscenities/ but anyways/
I got two piano men and I won't stop until I got a third/
a feature from Jason Beck or Butler/ but I heard one of them got murdered/
back in Canada/
found frozen in the cold/ killed by chilly/
so I guess I gotta fly to France/ and settle for Gonzo on the keys makin' ladies dance/
The next Einstein will write rhymes and yea I think that's true/
Sad musical genius man I think that's either you/ or Kanye/
they all say/
the 808's made/
my heartbreak/
cause now everybody uses those/ sounds like firing some Major Lazers/
I dip low/ duck/
man I still can't get down with techno/
nobody knows a MacBook ain't an instrument/
you can ask Fugazi/
if that was bossy/
I'm sorry/
just pardon me/
Stockholm and they lied to me/
just like Patty Hearst honestly/
my manners are better than this/
I'm trying to attract the type of folks that'll pay kids to spit/
so my momma don't gotta worry about how she'll live/
laid back getting checks from her oldest kid/
Pacemaker trick/
and I did all the percussion/ if you don't like my rhymes you still can't knock the production/

and oh yea Chilly/
I almost forgot to mention/
You should pay attention/
To this next chord progression


Sag my pants but I ain't a fool/
They Spend their money on nothing cool/
I got a crocodile in my swimming pool/
Got a winning complex and I hate to lose/
I love to win/
And if you ain't a lady then/
you can step off my land/
Or get rocked in the face with a tattooed hand/
I shouldn't have to say/
Get yo bitch ass out the way/
It's just me and fuckin' Pace/
Tryin' to weave between the snakes/
And 5-0 on the corner/
Like to see me a goner/
Keep a .45 in the wasteband/
man you wouldn't wanna/
try a fucker with a finger on the trigger/
Talk a lot of shit but you keep your mouth shut/
When you see me sippin Hennessy in the strip club/
Tough guy but I heard that you swallow the nut/
Quick to rub it out like a parliament butt/
Fuck it/
Rappers keep talking about millions and shit/
Got enough wealth just look at my wrist/
My rhymes stay hotter than some grilled catfish/
So when it comes to rappin man I ain't goin quit/
I ain't goin stop till it makes me rich/
Like Bon Jovi's bitch/
And Billy Ray's kids/
18karat filter on me like I'm lavish Mitch/
Used to be a hard life but now it's golden bitch/
Track Name: Century Custom

Grew up on songs and John/
Wayne was a nazi/
bumpin' millions of dead cops/
as we hop in Cuda's M series and take off/
to cruise around the block
I unlock the drop top/
and the wind picks up/
ruffling the fringed bottom of her little crop top/
and we're on our way/
on down to the park/
It's a beautiful day
And it's summer so there's always honeys buzzin round the spot/ like bees/
and they like me/ I think? they like me/ I pay their lawyer fees/
judge asked if they were guilty/
said "trick I might be"/
nose rings say "bite me"/
and I want to/
these girls look so cool/
rockin' septum piercings but don't take no bull/
They need a Yung Pacemaker like their hearts is stopped/
I rock a stupid haircut my head looks like a mop/
it's bald all around and I let the top flop/
it's either that or throw a box logo up top/
and yea spending money on a hat/
is foolish I know/
but I save enough cash passin' on theatrics/ club hits/ and backflips for major labels/
like I don't need the rap money/
I got better stable ways of putting bread up on the table/
climbin' stacks/ and I'm makin' em too/
while your friends are wastin' time getting faded with you/
and you're just not cool/
the tank tops in the winter showin' bad tattoos/
and yea we get big manly man "no homo" dude/
but your still kinda more of a fag than Nick Bentley's dad/
and that's saying a lot/
cause I hate that dude more than Stray hates cops/
copped some new come ups/ Givenchy over Louis V/
and they know I can't afford it so they just give it to me/ for free/ it's easy/ to be me/ spinning lyrical tornados a little more than breezy/ say you're flying high but I'm rapping a whirlwind/
clean mind sending words that will put your jet in a tailspin/
better grab a chute cause you're gonna be bailin'/
Out here pushing envelopes like ima U.S. mailmen/
going postal/
and I do hope you know I wrote/ every verse in this whole/
mixtape in a work week/
so I guess in a round about way you could say/
I got paid to rap before I even got paid to rap/
and while you wrap your mind around that last line/
I'll continue by telling you mine/
was occupied on the daily grind/
pressed for time/
Hungry and no sleep combined/
and I still slapped down material twice as good as what y'all usually hearin'/
and that's not even boastful/
that's just an anecdote/
that goes to show/ or say/ that rappers today/
are careless about what they put out/
seemingly only concerned with "if she puts out"/
or getting drunk of of stout/
giving into a bout/
with narcissism and drunkeness/
are y'all hearing this?/
It doesn't seem like it/
and I'm not convinced you aren't impressed/
with fraudulent lines of pieces and dimes/
overly simplified minds/
"making mine" and doin' time/
in the back of your minds/
it's cool to do time/
like a convict/
convicted in wasted time/
and not putting my own mind to good use/
using resources as a commodity/
on the commode flushing creativity and originality/
Track Name: Vox Humana / Vox Celeste
Vox Humana / Vox Celeste

Palm trees/
Flat broke disease/
And La Mirada has got me on my knees/
Now I sure ain't the truest of true/
But every different day a different side of you

La Mirada my little merci/
How come you're the only one I let hurt me/
I want to be the last man to ever grace your lips/
I want my face to feel the heat up off your pretty hips/
I want to get my teeth caught up in your crucifix/
Betwixt your restful breasts/

But When distance is an issue/
there's nothing I do but miss you/
And think about how I wish you/
Were home in my bed/
But your only home's in my head/
And my heart is just pledged/
To the thought of you/
Or maybe even to the thought of us two/
But it wouldn't work and you knew/
So communication withdrew/
Feelings first to subdue/
And then you bid me adieu/
I wrote about you/
and then I tore out the pages/ automated exchanges/
makes us not lovers but feigners/
we are only strangers/
The only time we talk it's on the phone/
but she's right here and wants me to take her home/
so I guess she doesn't know/
that this young padawan's a vagabond/
and I'm not messing with these hoes/
and I'm not playing with this flow/ and I'm not sippin' on patron/
And you better believe I'm going home/
And when I do I'll be alone/

I'm not eating/
It's hard dealing with these four feelings/
One: stomach grumbling like I devoured a foul luncheon/
Two: every four minutes's when I think of you/
Three: wishing different it could be/
Four: it was never GOOD, and it hasn't been/
So why are you the only one I think of then?/
No matter what I'm being prematurely forced to think of something clever for the last word/
But I'm just blowing hot air like the Hindenburg/
Grab my jacket, walk it off
Get lost in the cold, and stranded/
On an ice. Berg
Track Name: Isreal
ISRAEL // Red sweater beat

Sun sinks into the evergreens/
Moonlight illuminates my face inhaling nicotine/
Chase it with the last couple drops from my canteen/
Soak a rag in kerosene/
Hunting party's waving lit torches/
Growing up in the forest /made a savage out of man/
so I creep into her den/
slash her throat and steal her babies/ you'll remember me for this/
praised in the mouths of Connecticut farmers/
fawned over by every single one of their daughters/
But I'm not even messing with em/
I'm only interested/ in a ride or die type chick/
Some Bonnie Clyde type shit/
A girl more forceful than a 30/06
Who carries more weight than two tons of red bricks/
A woman who'll hold my weapon/
But fire back real quick/
More bite than citric/
And for her I fashioned a cloak/
from the pelt from that wolf/
Cause my baby only wears furs/
And she says the bloodier the better/
I don't know nobody fresher/
And she thinks I look best with bullet holes in my sweater/

Four snares playing paradidles and murderous rhythms/ when we ride/
Live free or die/
Forget a piece we're out to take the entire pie/
Crush your allies/
Self aggrandize/
Saying "never better"/
While pigs raid my cellar/
And my neighbors wonder why I'm grabbing for irons like I am Tiger Woods/
Come here and take this land
Man I wish a tiger would/
Militia run through and torch ya whole tiger hood/

That rip through the thick dark cloud/
Black as my heart/
Black as these murderous thoughts/
That creep though the dark/
And solidify as my rifle barks/
Setting fire to the Union Jack/
Taking cracks at lobster backs/
Quick to duck/
Hit the deck/
Shots spraying over head/
Shrapnel hit their target/
Make a martyr/
leave a soldier dead/
Caught one in the jugular/
Lead rip though ya neck/

(Pulled out my beretta)

And at point blank range that shot will spin you around/ dick/
shoulder full of pellets as you fall the ground/ pick/
up another weapon loaded rifles abound/
Lobbing shots off as shots rock/
And rip through your crew/
Troop Cut down in twos/
With blood splatter and brain matter on the heel of your boots/
I can deal death with my saber too/
Savage as a saber tooth/
I turned your British brothers to bodies my crew is gonna loot/


First Thirteen over everything/
I'll split the spleen of any man that comes between/
My native country thee/
Land of the noble free/
Whose name I love/
Celebrate with rum/
And a fat Cuban/
Out here I'm a legend like Rick Rubin/
Young Americans and no one thought we could do it/
So bring your empires like mountains we're here to move em/

I ain't sure if God's by my side/
But I know that Britain wants me either dead or alive/
And I have a feeling hell will have me if God's good graces I defy/
Baby's letters and clenched rosaries while I ride/
And regardless in spite of all this I'm not dying tonight/

And I'll be damned if I let any King take that from me/
Take the stillness out back and put it on it's shaking knees/
Put a bullet in my head if in this land I won't be free/
Leave the bowing to the saints I'll go die on my feet/
Track Name: Morning
Thank you/
I need you to know that I don't blame you/
And for the rest/
You did your best/
I've never thought anything less/
Your actions were always what you thought was right/
Took a ring and signed on to a life/
Of fear and threats/
Every other drunken night/
Of beer and debts/
Pain and petty brainless fights/
It's just what we get/
But in the early morning light/
It's all alright/
Cause an "I don't remember" works just as well as an apology/
And to the kids/
Talking to them we just won't bother see/
Please don't go back to that/

Misguided but you did it for us/
If no one else I know you I could trust/
You stuck it out/
Cause you thought it was best for your children/
We never questioned your intentions/
But please/
Please don't go back to that/
Angels don't lie with rats/
They don't make their beds in the midst of combat/
How can you rest in that?/
I'm exhausted/

I love you/

And that's just not an option to go back to/
I'm not sure I could go through/
Seeing him rip into the drive on a Harley/
Inebriated violent & angry/
Stumble to the door as your family flees/
Breath reeks of greasy biker dick and whiskey/
Enter the house only home out of cruelty/

terrorizing my beautiful mother/
Fists clenched screaming as he stumbles closer/
bash his brains in like he tried to do to my kid brother/
but no no. See I'd charge right into him/ closing up space/
Jam my blade between his ribs and then I'd spit in his face/
but I'm not going to/
cause everyone that knows him knows he sure as hell ain't worth the jail time/
and he's already tried to ruin too many years of mine/
but what the hell is that anyways?/ why do so many young men in my generation fantasize about killing their own fathers/
Have they earned it?/
Do they deserve it?/
Do we just lash out when our world flips?/
Cause I'd rather bleed out in a ditch/ than see your face again you piece of rat (ah)/
And if you end up hearing this/
the only thing I have to say/
is don't you ever think about coming near my family/
I started cutting you off years ago and you were just too foolish and self absorbed to see/
and now I'm finally in a position to sever every single tie/
no father of mine/
and God knows you aren't a man/ cause men don't spend their nights trying to fight women and children/ you don't have the right to ever utter my name again/
you are dead to me/
and for everyone else's sake I hope the alcohol poisoning kills you way sooner than later/