Fire Drill from Baby Album by Killin H8

Mind to will the rhyme skill to sirens like a fire drill:
Fire drill: the Knight and Hil’ refine our skill with time to kill —
It’s Killin H8 — killin’ it — fill a bit — fire drill.
Shit god darn, ring the alarm —
Heart wide open like the door of a barn.
Art gets born, we ball like yarn,
Keep it kinda hot like the core of a star.
Generatin’ buzz, keep it fly like a swarm,
Trying to find our center like the eye of the storm.
Little bit of wit, little bit of charm.
Part rock stars, part school marms.
Trying to play our part within this whole embracing All
And hold the light inside us like a flame within a squall.
This is just a drill, but ring the alarm — Tenor Saw.
We want to make art and then farm. Ahhhhh.

Sir Kn8:
Day job: teach. At night play YLALO.
Go deep: don’t be a sheep. Baa.
Keep a short leash on the long arm of the law;
See both sides though: ride the see-saw.
Whee! See ma? I really got it all:
Ridin’ on the beat like a titty in a bra.
Kinda like this: got a lot of bliss and awe,
Got a mic up in the fist to free the ditty from the jaw.
Mamase, mamasa, mamakoosa. —
It should be against the law, like what they say the Mamma saw.
Droppin’ that shit when I run up in the stall.
Got a funny feelin’: LMAO LMAO LOL.
I laughed my ass off, I cried it back on.
I’m trying to make bank, send it back to Dad and Mom.
But hey, these days, I’ve been writin’ sad songs —
Got a lunatic in power with his finger on the bomb.
Doggies get a long. I ball like pong.
Crawl up on the beat like the strap of a thong.
Funny how you don’t know what you got until its gone.
Callin’ all my animals to overthrow the farm.
Trying to get the feta, trying to get the parm,
Trying to get there, but I don’t know where to start.
Trying to get the parts to be the whole they often aren’t.
This is just a drill but we still use the alarm.

Hila the Killa:
Just a drill
Trust the skill
Hate is what we come to kill
Suck a dick and hump and chill
In a pickle, what’s the dill
What’s the deal? Look and feel
Ain’t need a hook like the skin of a seal
Ain’t give a fuck to whom I appeal
I fux with the sex but fuck the sex appeal
I fux with a fruit and I compost the peel
It’s all so real, I play no role
I take new forms in my age old soul
If my game ain’t dope, then a grape don’t roll
If I get take out then I bring my own bowl
Bring my own cup, bring my own straw
Give my whole love, sing my own song
Do my own thing and embrace my own flaws
Hanging like a yo-yo. Yo Yo Ma
Yo Mamma’s so nice she made a meal for me to gnaw
Slayin’ every beat when it drops like a jaw
Man or Superman: George Bernard Shaw
Woman, Superwoman? gender roles: nah
That’s a construct to which I say ta-ta
How you like me now I’m upside down, ta-da
Hi, how are you? ?נשמע מה, שלום

We ain’t built to hate ‘cause a hater ain’t buildin’,
Sayin’ blah blah blah, but Hila and Kn8 hate killin’.
It’s a great night job but its hard to make a livin’,
But our day jobs kinda nice because we’re educatin’ children.
Got a can-do attitude, a can or two of magic,
And a bag of sweet potatoes that are certified organic.
Gettin’ it straight from the source, trying to buy it where its planted.
Spittin’ fire, but of course, this is a drill, so don’t panic.

• Hip-Hop/Rap
• artsy
• comedy
• poetry
• spoken word
• underground
• New York