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by Drapetomania

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During the summer of 2011, Gen Pop was depressed, uninspired and broke. On a whim, he got together and started doing songs with Big Walt. The songs turned into an album mixing thoughts on suicide, race, drugs, God, and disillusionment with rap in general.

The album included production from David Ether, Professor Megablown, AnomaLEE, Blaine Nash, and Clavius Crates.

Opinions differ greatly on this project. Some love it, some find it abrasive and "unmusical." But it will be out there for all to hear finally.



released April 30, 2013

Professor Megablown - 1, 4, 8, 14
David Ether - 2, 3, 10-12
AnomaLEE - 5 & 7
Clavius Crates - 6
Blaine Nash - 9
Dre $keez - 13

Engineered & Mixed by Clavius Crates
Recorded in The Lands - Summer 2011
Mastered by Scott 'Tenacity' Martin
Album Art by Clavius Crates

Branch Out Collective 2013


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Branch Out Collective Ann Arbor, Michigan

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Track Name: Drapetomania
It's no secret that Walter is damaged
I watched my peers kneel down at the altar of Mammon
Emotions often mismanaged
Cuz I stay drunk, awkward and candid
I might be the most lost of the lambs
Because I felt more than thought can withstand, but God became Man...
Felt the same pain
Universe rearranged so I can be OK,
I might be crazy
Cuz at lunch today I felt that which made me
I almost got committed last weekend
To evaluate if I was off deep end
And ______________________
My mom's really scared for me / scared of me
What I'd do to me without therapy
And I ain't................trapped in the world
I'm tryin to get back to the world cuz this pain made cracks in the world
I wanna go back where my friends are
That's why I drink so fuckin much
But I'ma be alright when it gets hard
Cuz to keep on in this life, I need one above (one above)

Blind Faith ain't new to me
My folks nurse scars, countin down till Jubilee
Usually the cruelty's a given
I take it like I dish it, hopin soon to be forgiven
You can see the prison at large
If you stick around long enough, it isn't that hard
Patrol Cars, slow to a creep on a safari
Snatchin niggas up while others get seduced by the Army
I'm runnin out of things to say sooner
In conversations that I'm not conductin on computers
It's _____________________________________
Find myself starin off into space
Work ethic gets often replaced with distraction
So yes, I'm depressed but fed
While overseas i'd be left for dead
To see a famine claim lives puts things in perspective
And all I really seek is connection, plus some peaceful protection
From my own self-sabotage
Burdened with a sense of worthlessness...I try to camouflage
I can't escape without making a sacrifice
Maybe things will even in the afterlife
But I'll suffer this illness until I'm dead & gone
Control is remote, fuck it what else is on
Track Name: Preexisting Conditions
I'm in Ypsilanti
Smokin Afghani
Keep big checks in the mail like ____ Stan Lee
You wanna know what runs in my family?
Everyone from the cops, dog. Unhand me.
Got a couple L's but I beat em in court
Prick-ass cop, laughin when I read the report
Thought that he could even the score
Now he like 'Big Walt's too evil, ABORT"
I laugh gleeful & snort.....
Your slut mother put cunt rags in your lunch bag
Had me in the Facebook pic, I had to untag
Everybody's lady know Hunchback
Let you get up on the mic, naw sike, Run That
Get the party hype, you are the retarded type
Thinkin that these fuckboys eatin and we starve tonight

10-4 Paces, Backpacin
Oh, you sick with the spit? My dick is the vaccination
Black Chameleon, creepin on a come-up
In the land where it's 10% Talent, 90 Dumb-Luck
I treat the bus like my limousine services
Round-trip tickets for cats with mental disturbances
...But I digress, eat rappers & digest
Widescreen my rhyme scheme to make your mind stretch
I'm in this for the love and sense of leadership
Especially since it beats yellin out "Fire!" in Madea flicks
And if the beat's legit, I'll have the streets convinced that I'm a genius
Even if that label's fucking meaningless
Liable to be maniacal, but never nihilistic
So turn the lights low while you listenin
Recline in your seat and vibe to the beat
While I walk this tightrope and catch knives in my teeth
Track Name: The Tardedness
One time for the One Time
3 Strikes for the ex-con still spitting gun rhymes
I stay Based on the Front Line
Without a plan of attack so I kick back and unwind
Watching the sunshine through the holes in the roof of the Terrordome
Better known as my second home
I tried to write a verse deep and political, but I got bored
So that topic's better off left alone
Like paying fees on a land-line telephone
Stare at the ballot all I'm seeing is a pair of clones
The smell of slacking got me gone off the pheromones
So would you care to bone and boost each other's Seroton'?
Long days Longer nights
And what I'm seeing's blurring up my views of wrong and right
This city is a sinkhole, I'm crawling towards the light
Watching former classmates taking hits off the pipe

When I look to the sky
I ask how crooked am I
In the truth, I look for the lie
So will I be cooked when I die?

To the birds in my art, the world is a dart
Dick stay wet but a virgin at heart
On the streets of Ann Arbor, demand pardon
I'm sorry, I'm from where your plants darken
Yo, skies grey in the summer
Game kept calling, changing my number
GP, I'm out
I'll be back in a flash
I'm grabbing Cognac and a bag of the grass
My friends sell _________
Mad hazardous cash, pack mattress and bag
I don't hassle with that, that's back in the past
But the blood won't wash from my hands
From when I sold drugs to a man
Who later went to a program
And I said "Stay Gold, kid.
I caked off your pain, I ain't shit."


Riots in the streets, stocks bulemic
Defiance is the key but the lock is secret
Cops aim at your back when they cock & squeeze it
Have you, quadrapalegic on a Posturepedic
My guys get Bridge cards and stop believing in a better life
Satisfied with decent
Long as they on a cot in a box in the precinct
Call that shit a come-up getting strung up by weak links

I quit my job
I'm a loser
I have no future, there IS no future
Blood seeps through the planet's sutures
I'm sharing cigarrettes with crack abusers
Take me out a little quicker, sipping liquor
Palm read, gypsy give a bitter picture
Everything burns down, bones hollow
For the love of today they took your tomorrow

Track Name: Way of the Future ft. Blackberry Aries & Clavius Crates
Yo it's W-A-L-T the E-R
But these rappers are way more paid than we are
They ain't in the bar, pulling skeezars
Off a Lee Card, ______ going full retard
Gotta stop eating these freaks sweet parts
I'ma get that jaw HPV like Roger Ebart
You and W-I-F-E are di-vorced
She's a star on the Big Walt version of "Cheaters"
Girls breathe hard, I step out the car
Fucking sweet parts since Cousin Skeeter
If you go to Michigan State
You can see me getting lifted and I'm lifting some weights
Politicking with this chicken about Finnegan's Wake
Cuz I'm trying to put this dick in her face (Ugh)
I make it glassy clear
I'll leave a porch light on for your rap career, bitch

Blackberry Aries:
My whole style is premeditated homicide
I'm finna kill this beat in the summertime
Looking back on when I say that, I never hesitated
And the stakes were elevated when I added Yellow #5
The haters levitated when AnomaLEE authorized the sanction
And so I thank him as I analyze myself and the runners of this rat race
Who sack chase
They only know how to simply and act fake
in the face of real talent
It's easy to see your off balance and you lack taste
I choose to fortify while you lactate in your cereal
You fucking with a serial killer
With imperial status, that of a spiritual assassin
I'm laughing at how you reiterate, all you do is irritate
So now I gotta reciprocate
With some 16 that can keep your eyes up
Hip Hop is dried up, and its time for me to irrigate

I be the Cheeba-Chimney White Man, African necklace
With a slight tan, eating fried rappers for breakfast
Seen plenty sights stand in the path of my exit
Seems funny knives ask how I laugh, when i'm headless
Neck & guillotine, dreaded Philistine: stoned to death
Pull the flesh out of my open chest to hold my breath
Cough....Silly Putty heads be soft
Premature fetuses, crushed into lumpy spaghetti sauce
Mufuckas ready to toss vegetables off of a bridge
No life support, life is short. Better call up your kids
Keep the bond strong
While you were analyzing pop songs
I popped up, dropped nuts in your mom's bucket of popcorn
Stopped short of impregnation, spread cum on her tits
So she won't abort another lame son of a bitch
What the....fuck is this shit, I'm disrespectful as hell
Cannibal Holocaust _____ tortoise intestines and shells
The rest of you sell your selves but I ain't buying the hoax
We shove cassettes inside your throat, spinning like bicycle spokes
Rewind remote clickers and listen to you vinyl-ly choke

I'm running circles around these square pegs
Rocking rare threads, getting Bad Brains from some airheads
The latter part of that last line was fake as shit
I'm a grown ass man in a relationship
The super senior swag surfing at the student center
Freshmen yelling at me, "You ain't graduated sooner, nigga?"
2% of you contenders truly making music better
As for everybody else, I'll eat your crew for dinner
My quota for quotables is high like an overdose on the Holy Ghost
Or Jaocby's chances of getting pulled over in Okemos
So don't provoke or get your dough revoked
Dick game Pinocchio
The more that you lie on it, the more it grow
Oh fasho
Hold the phone
Somebody's where they don't belong
Better kiss the ring, I'm Godfather Don Corleone
Dropping a deuce in your Babj ghanoush
Serve it with Wonton Soup & a shot of the Goose
The proof is in the Cosby pudding
A lot of stupid motherfuckers wanna step inside a booth
But they probably shouldn't
I separate the wheat from the chaff
Like you separate the stems and the seeds from the grass
Track Name: Dose Excessiva
Lyrics N/A
Track Name: ...shit happens...
Catch me temporary whipping in the Zip Car
Tacky ass throwing gift-cards in the tip jar
It's the thought that counts
Why try to front?
We share the wealth
Like Communists
Ending up in rented trucks bumping Fleetwood......
.......Mac-kin on these chickens cuz my speech good
I use big words
Like "contraception"
Get chose off prose
Top selection

I'm not really drunk enough
To be outside the club trying to clutch stunts
My dude knew one
She's kinda hot
But everybody thirsty, making final shots
Hail Marys
Trying to grab the last one left, but them broads looking kinda scary
No Fern Gully fairies, like I'm Larry...
...Bird, no mouse, fly back to my aviary
Track Name: EEMNAA ft. Clavius Crates
Misfit Toys what I represent
Heaven sent, but I'm hell bent with my rhetoric
Spent dead presidents on sedatives
Poured in rememberence of those who exited
Paid dues in cornfields and tenements
Negligent parents raised the wrong element
Rhyme endless, sometime my mind Oedipus
Yelling at the Gods why does the grind render us
Fucked in the game, it's crazy right?
Suicide's not a problem but a way of life
I used to hate my life
In my room at my wrist with a blade at night
Hate all women except for she who gave me life
Insane, I'm trying make it right
I chase the light from the darkness of my mind, terrified
The underworld's my comfort zone yo, I'm scared to fly
Will I, fall down like Icarus?
Back to the earth and those I kick it with?
Am I littering my thoughts upon the literate?
Or is my ignorance keeping me belligerent-ly drunk
When I'm at the party and I'm killing shit
on the mic?
It's Big Walt, I'm legitimate

Descendent of the slave & maids who did Daywork
A menace on the stage, the aim's to hit pay-dirt
And charge it to the game if I gain notoriety
For acting like society's norms, don't apply to me
In another life I'd be a better man
Have a better outlook
Follow thorough on better plans
For what it's worth, I wouldn't mind living Christ-like
But my old ways got a hold on me, Vice tight
My demons reinforce belief in God
So in a sense, my inner sense can never beat the odds
Innocence for irony
That's how the trade goes
Seemed fine to me
Until finally I buckled under pressure from the same old same old
OK so, how do I begin again?
And not succumb to the same fate as many men?
Committed plenty sins, I ain't defending shit
Developed a taste for self-destructive living when I'm hitting skin to visit bliss
No longer penitent
Limitless, time spent, study Proverbs like fine print
Bloodshot eyes blur as my mind went for past church services
Back to the spot
Where my man Sean was showing off the crack in his sock
Children of the saints face fate and turn lost souls
Long before they make it to the crossroads

I'm floating in & out of different states of consciousnesses
The kid remain anonymous to this degraded populace
MANIC wishes for connection have been severed cut
STATIC traditions brought the ending of progression, just
Stark hatred, we live in dark ages
Drive cars wasted, __________ blade tips
Inject flesh veins, syringes & pill bottles
Lead shreds brains, click biscuits to kill sorrow
Dead pres stained with the blood of small children
Where the love above is obstructed by tall buildings
I came down from the clouds as the night sky wept
And my wide eyes met systemized blind threats of the idle
I have slept in cycles
Bundled under comfy lies left from the rivals
Mindless acceptance, praise the dollar all thank him
For violence, weapons, bottles, smallpox blankets
Today we have fast food, tv's and pharmacies
Lazy lamps skewered by the priests in the armory
Harm is lethal and it comes without anticipation
Scars the people who are numb and out of inspiration
3 of my friends stopped stressing and snuffed it
Over 4 years, can't pretend I'm not envious of them
Death is what comes when nothing satisfies the hunger
Granted by the curse of worthlessness we sanctify our lovers
Only discovering the loneliness and disconnection
Spill inner organs, this recording is a vivisection
Track Name: The Funk
Let me have your attention
Graduated in '06, still got detention
Retention, of my foot in your anus
Is what you can expect if you book and don't pay us
Next statement, is some Fuckboys hatin
So uh...lemme explain the arrangement
Said I'm ass-backwards, Backpacker & Hipster
That's why I'm runnin laps and clap traps at your sister
Congnac, grass and a fat package of Swishers
Trash rappers Kool-aid glass smashin the picture
That shit wasn't even hard
Wrote that shit drunk as fuck, playin Mario Kart
I'm fucked up, waiting for the party to start
Like, "Which one of these girls gon' throw a dart at my heart?"
Yeah...with that overshare
And uh I kinda like uh, that one over there

Kick it like Judo, drop it like Sumo
Ladies try to throw me culo like my last name was Buttafuaco
My loose lips sink ships shootin scud missiles
Make these haters' blood sizzle as I do my thug thizzle
Funk pistol, Bop gun, cock it on a grassy knoll
Point blank, head shot, stop, pop, drop & roll
This game's a rerun, I stopped and made a cameo
Cracked my head open, saw green like pistachios
In 5th grade, I talked shit and did the Dirty Bird
When I'm 64, I'll prolly have a stroke and slur my words
Kick these old heads to the curb for sanitation workers
Reminisce all you fuckin want, you can't escape the merger
From Ypsilanti to Dansville, forEverest-ing on these Catskills
Door to door, passin handbills
I met Rick Snyder at his crib for civilized discussions
Runnin interference while his daughter's fuckin Walter Lucken
Track Name: Northernplayalisticcadillacmuzik
Southfield born, Northville raised till I was 2.
Seven Mile, only remember the living room
1st Christmas, I got a toy schoolhouse
Government cheese, but love I never went without
'92, Dad's like "we need a different route"
Settled in the Ingham County land with the kid and spouse
Deep down, I knew I was of the city
Not meant for what the town wanted to give me
Never on the same page as the neighbors
5 acres of imagination to play in
School problems, won't get into it now
But I needed to find my own road to the clouds
Age 12 at LCC I found
Rap in the computer lab, headphones vibing out
Expressed what I saw in the lyrics
Knew my environment cuz I was never really in it
I noticed that the stories in the songs
Were being played out where I lived, I came upon the truth
That the same battle lives in the hood
As the souls of white trash kids deep in the woods
I watched Meth hit the county like Crack
Friends moms turn to fiends, they ain't never coming back
Meth hit the county like Crack
Friends moms turn to fiends, they ain't never coming back

Northernplayalisticcadillac shit
Hands in the sky like you reaching for the last cent
I reminisce on decisions I made
And those made for me
The same stories.

Rolling shotgun through my city you can see the stories unfold
Former pot of gold got exposed, jobs bought & sold
My forefathers chose the Motor City-scape to find a home
Riots branded down the divides that white flight condoned
I came into this world an Ypsilanti resident
Child of the very sin I've wrestled with ever since
Nevertheless my parents stuck it out a couple years
And even after the divorce, they made it clear the love was near
Coming up I had an appetite for books
Velvet portraits of the lions at my aunt's had me shook, when
I'd visit cousins on the East side of the D
Till my mom remarried and we moved there in '93
Stepfather was a cop and got shot before we had a chance to unpack
6 months gone to return back
Went to school in the Deuce and formed bonds across color lines
Subdivision chilling in the summertime
The Clinton era had the middle class stacking bills
Soon enough we got that invitation sent from Jack & Jill
A breeding ground for the upwardly mobile black elites
Where the Talented 10th kids could meet
My stint was brief, and all I really learned was code switching
Had slang on deck ready for tone switching
Junior high I'm eating lunch at the "black table"
To this day we still wear the scars of imagined labels
Junior high I'm eating lunch at the "black table"
To this day we still wear the scars of imagined labels

Track Name: Giving Up ft. Nickie P.
Good morning Y-Town
Good morning Ace Deuce
Good morning AQ, pray you recuperate soon
Strange fruit still swinging from the same noose
That ain't new so now it's time for us to make moves
Every time I grab a microphone and spit
I'm making up for lost time, days thrown in the abyss
World weary in my early 20's
Insecure so when girls tempt me, my nerves flimsy
Back in 9th grade, I used to fantasize
I still do but now I over-anaylze
And rap for guys broke as fuck and for too stressed
The fear of women got em flocking to the sausage-fest, I guess
It all connects to how we're programmed
Old associations, all I know to make is slow jams
And if a woman don't relate then I'm supposed to hate
I swear this shit is rigged, ladies get it how you live

What I found
Is astounding to me
Baby this is what we got
And we're not Giving Up
What I found
Feet on ground, yeah you know
We on top, got on lock
Strong enough, now look up

It's a new day
Like many others
To rock boat shoes
Coat of many colors
I don't have any lovers
But that's OK
I used to bump Cold Vein and blow grapes
Now I rotate, to PBR cold case
30 of em, smash em all like post-haste
My mom telling me, I need a nice girl
Not these girls that like girls and White Girl
Ain't a lot of those in my world
Maybe I need my horizons to einfurl
Unfurl, one curl is 25
But I'm, trying to get that shit to 30 by the wintertime
Think I can do it
Cuz 50% of any task is a little intent
If it's past 8:30 I'm bent
But that's OK
Every day I get closer to a better way

Praise God and pass the ammunition
I'm makin cuts and layin tracks like black beauticians
Prhyme Rhyme told your boy to keep it Suade
So I keep a blind eye to you underneath the shades
I wrote this on the West Side: North Maple, West Side
Everyday, 12A, AATA, let's ride
Milosh got the Loud downtown, that's the best buy
I don't smoke like that, but if I did it'd leave my chest fried
Like these fly birds I observe: Legs Breasts Thighs
We can crash, when I give that ass a test drive
Black boys bussin verses
White girls clutchin purses
Bitches lacin DMT with skag got you fuckin nervous
Fuck the Heat dude, I be hatin
Bron won the title but his hairline still be Ossie Davis
Rest in Peace to Pogo, finger fuck the Po-po
The Black Man is God like Yaphet Kotto in a polo

And he ain't crazy, he just PASSIONATE
Drapetomania wit D&D its so immaculate
Smack the ass of the establishment
Throw em off balance then hit the gas wit the baddest chick
Cuz she ain't crazy, she just PASSIONATE
And we ain't crazy we just PASSIONATE
Tell them motherfuckers play in traffic if they mad at it
Cuz I ain't come for practice, bitch
I'm gunnin for the championship

They see me out
And they know what I'm about
Ingham County's in the house
All these shows, they stay booked
Women wanna Bang, wanna meet me on the Facebook
I'm gettin old
I'm not swagged out
Used to be Dad spazzin out, takin trash out
Now I'm cashed out, drink the Guinness black stoute
Educate rappers and let the class out
Slide in the whip, then I go to Zach's house
Watch the Broncos (aka the Jets)
Tebow's wack, wow
I got some new shit comin in like teethin
Women from Sweden, I love to watch em leavin
This evening, General P &...
Me plottin on eatin till we stop breathin
If I ever hear you say Walt's decent
Prolly bought your jewelry at the mall, prolly called Skeezits


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