Throwback Thursdays

by Baby Jayne



released January 1, 1999



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Baby Jayne Sterling, Illinois

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Track Name: Landmine Mindstate.
"Heart of a martyr, instincts of a primate /
Born to lose, there will be no divine fate /
Designed blind, heart quakes, grey matter aches /
Landmine mindstate"

Verse 1:
"Back in the grind state of mind, not a pretty sight /
If love won't save me, I hope some pity might /
Shitty nights, days are dark and devastating /
Lost, linger in limbo, levitating, call it Heaven's Gate-ing /
In bed, debating, waiting, skating on a thin sheet of ice /
Berating how grating this life has made my pipes /
Autonomous, relating to animal instincts of pythons /
Kill for sport, still report, I sleep with the lights on /
Right wrongs? nah, write songs 'cause it's cheap therapy /
Family shoveled shit instead of heaping care on me /
Apparently there was supposed to be a pair of me /
Parasitic twin still haunts my dreams and I bet she's scared of me too /
Swear that it's true, the world won't house one of me /
Even I'm done with me, couldn't fathom that redundancy /
Of wasted carbon, tissue fat, flirt with death, won't kiss me back /
Throw another whiskey back, and what you get? you get this track"

Verse 2:
"Back in that 'fuck you, pay me' mentality /
Paulie in Goodfellas, homie, you ain't no pal to me /
I'll give nothing, ribs touching, bluffing like I've got pocket aces /
No support system, Pop was faceless then ancient history /
Your sympathy won't keep the roof over my head /
Why lie? the way I'm living's proof that I'm dead /
Poof! what I say is magic, smoke screens and sleight of hand /
My man reaches out to feed me and I bite his hand /
We're all dying, man, but I've already crossed over /
Unlucky charms, bloody rabbit feet and lost clovers /
You can't control her, whether drunk, high, or sober /
My sight - it goes in and out - near, far - Grover /
Grade school gloom, hipster of this depression shit /
Depressing wit can't save, nor can artistic skill that's excellent /
I make you cry as often as laugh, and you should smirk /
I'm already dead, the embalmers just do good work"
Track Name: All Swag, No Content
Verse 1:
"Baby's back to bang these bars, everywhere - that's where we are /
Feathered, tarred, wearing scars, stars and stripes, very hard /
Not to carry on, buried Mary very long ago /
Put a marker farther on down the road (down the road) /
Every word I utter is an echo of an echo /
But I will never settle, and I will never let go /
Retro, spent throat, gas me up like petrol /
Get rid of me? you must be kidding me, hell no /
Hello to a new day, damn, that was a great night /
Move like a conquistador, make love, take life /
Hand gripped on a steak knife, filet you like a pretty cut /
Is Jaynie out her freaking, fracking mind? yeah, pretty much /
Spilling blood, spitting writtens on this, that, and such and such /
My flow's ugly as trannies who don't tuck their nuts - yuck /
Shucks, thank all you motherfuckers for the accolades /
And got help any bitch on the mic who comes after me"

"Face - daggers /
Based, swagger /
Winehouse, Whitney /
Cobain, Jagger /
Celebrity sugar high /
Til we vomit /
What's the name of this one? /
All swag, no content"

Verse 2:
"Rap like it could save my life, hoping for the opposite /
Somewhere I know Pop is pissed, look at me, no pot to piss /
No window to throw it out of, without love /
Life is an unfitting bloody glove, word to Orenthal /
Pour it on a little thicker, kick of liquor coursing through /
Every vein and tissue, bliss due, kiss you /
On the lips and hips too, ooh, do you like that? /
I fell of the beat a little bit, huh? I'll be right back /
Right track, wrong train, right drug, wrong vein /
Song's plain as day 'cause dreaming is a drain /
Imagination is for children, I'm a real life villain /
Killing beats by K.Mack.G. of Maxabillion West /
Still I'm blessed, tongue's swollen, lungs folding /
Fingers frozen, slipping from the rung I'm holding onto /
Aren't you cute, rhyming yet another chapter? /
Just what the world needs: another common rapper"