Selfish Bastard

by Machine

Selfish Bastard cover art
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credits

released 10 May 2012
all tracks written, recorded and performed by the machine except:
track 1: performed by halsey harkins
track 6: written, recorded and performed by
the machine and denmark vessey.


tracks 1, 3 and 4 produced by the machine
track 2 produced by skywlkr
track 5 produced by enrichment
track 6 produced by denmark vessey
track 7 produced by jordan
tracks 8 and 11 produced by black noi$e
track 9 and track 10 outro produced by ed hobbs
track 10 produced by gerald harbour


SELFISH BASTARD was mixed and mastered by mike ziethlow

executive producers: the machine, ed hobbs and mike ziethlow

additional production: the machine and mike ziethlow

art direction: rozlyn anderson & austin haynes

cover photography: rozlyn anderson

digi-booklet art direction: the machine

tags

tags: 2012 hip hop hip hop/rap rap selfish bastard awesomesauce depression heartfelt hip hop (real shit) lumberjackmuzakk machine new wave rap alternative suicide the machine therapy Las Vegas

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about

Currently, The Machine is working on his first ever debut [full-length] album. While writing for his album, The Machine ... more finds inspiration from the tribulations he crossed paths with just last year. Depths of all emotion with be displayed in hopes to connect with his listeners by allowing them to see that they are not alone in their own struggles. less

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Track Name: Daemons [Intro] *Feat. Halsey Harkins*
and you'll feel so alive
right after you have died
Track Name: I Love Suicide Girls II
no longer do i need such a prize as a suicide girl for me to commit suicide. say do or die. i
don’t wanna do shit, so why is my only option such a surprise? didn’t wanna do another fuck
swag back then so i tried to change up what my pen said. quit squeezing my heart on a page
and instead, put what my head said in your headset. some things will never change. my father
will never change. hip-hop will change; the people in it will never change. the mainstream
will always be favorable to clowns, the underground will always try to strap you down. the
etiquette that’s preferred is sloppiness. it occurs a few times a week. they calling it “spoken
word.” the same night you meet, they say they like your shit but since you stay on the beat,
they say you ain’t legit. so what are you left with? dreams Filled with holes and when you
go to sleep? dreams Filled with poles. that half of the bed’s cold. twenty-some-odd years.
you do the math! i’m twenty-some-odd years old! i actually met one. we became friends. we
wanted more but life forced us to pretend. i told her, “i’d love for you to be my First.” big
surprise! i never heard from her again. if i am a machine i got a radio head. i guess i’m a
creep. there’s no one else to blame. they all have one thing in common: me. but everyday of
my life, i spend trying to change. when is it gonna end? my whole life i’ve tried to be a good
man. it seems all for naught. a woman’s love could crush diamonds into sand; a civilization
would take a mere month.

don’t i deserve love?

the question’s unfair to me but it burns a hole in my brain. i guess that’s why i like tattoos
and piercings- it ensures that she has been around pain. which means she would understand
when i kindly decline to hold her hand. ‘cause i put it in the Fire too much (like if i did it
enough it’d magically be safe.) but Flame ain’t something that you can domesticate. so
desperate for warmth, i probably burned my face. only time i’ve experienced lips to mine is
when i fantasize about it, sad to say. i’m so tired of being alone, it aches and as a man, that
ain’t something i’m supposed to say. so go ahead and think whatever you want about me.

truth is, you were gonna do it anyway.
Track Name: Lineage
i come from a long line of people who dream big, live fast and make mistakes. known to go
nowhere at a quick pace. smuggle cocaine lower than the ribcage. struck a deal up with the
doctor. the balloon burst like they couldn’t stop the inFlate. tattoos of coke leaves in the
wrist space, and breast plates full of dreams we threw away. moms worked her ass off all for
my sake. then took the heart of her dream in one hand and with the other hand, she steered
the van of a butcherman, yeah, she drove that stake. took it from the cradle, straight to the
grave. ‘cause she still got a notebook full of songs she wrote i was never allowed to read.
all she ever wanted to do was sing, but she gave up.

[chorus]
doing what they said we should do: i can’t blame them, it’s in my blood too. can’t blame them,
it’s in my blood too. can’t blame them, it’s in my blood too. big risk of addiction: i can’t
blame them, it’s in my blood too. can’t blame them, it’s in my blood too. tell me what would
you do if you were in my shoes?

[verse2]
bloodline stays unabashed. unc met hendrix, daddy dropped acid. not sure if he used stickers
or tablets but that night, he could see music. yeah, he was in a band once. still, it led to
nothing. one day, his roommate came and took his shit (probably high off something). scott
summers’ cock: it was in phoenix. shouldn’t have stopped, could’ve been genius but music was
no anti-drug back then; it was what you did after drugs. lucky that his heart didn’t stop.
shit! i’m lucky his heart didn’t stop. but he was like a stone getting pushed off the top:
started to roll and gave up on the rock.
[chorus]

[verse3]
now since maw gave up and paw gave up this music stuff, it really makes me wonder if i’m
strong enough to not stop ‘cause i’ve felt my life get chopped up. don’t wanna move so i take
pills. move in with primetime like i got something to prove. very same night we head into the
stu, my mind reminds me i got something to lose. sleep on it. feel anxiety lean on it. this
disease has the power to bring me to my knees, don’t it? in between a second and third verse, i
i realize i’m just not well enough to do it. leave home and don’t write for three months. i
wonder if it’s in my genes to give up. or to be so depressed at a time where my rhymes make
my songs make me look like a free lunch to these rappers.
Track Name: Sertraline
chorus) [x2]
i'm on that 'line, i'm on that 'line, i'm on that 'line- ser-tra-line. and now i can't sleep. and
now i can't sleep. and now i can't sleep. and now i can't sleep, ‘cause i’m on that...

(verse 1)
nothing else has helped pull me out the dirt, so what can it hurt? don't want to admit i
have a problem, but i made a promise and i'll treat it like it's charlie's ticket made of gold: i
just wanna keep it. jesus, i have never called on you before but i really need some help
making it through these doors. i don't want to be here. if you were to ask me if i meant the
dr.'s OFFice or the planet earth, i...would say both! go see dr. tran. he's not like the rest.
surprisingly warm eyes- compassionate man. gives me the prescription. side effects he lists'em
and i listen, on a mission, but i'm running out of rational decisions. so what can i do? take a
pill, go to sleep. wake up, feel like, i can do anything! little did i know it wouldn't last, but
today will be a blast 'cause my brain's being trained by sertraline.

(chorus) [x2]

(verse 2)
since when did we have birds around these parts that sing? or palm trees that swing? feels
like i've been born again. feels like i'm hugging my best friend. feels like i'll never mourn
again. generic or not, this is hittin' the spot! ghetto zoloft. i bouot the kirkland brand. the
sun has never looked so bright. goodnight! i'm sure tomorrow will be just as grand.

(chorus) [x2]

(verse 3)
selective...seratonin re-uptake inhibitor. the fact it's called "selective" is a fucking lie! i
wake up and feel like a nutcracker is trying to make peanut butter out of my skull's insides.
and he won't stop chewing 'til it's the smooth kind. went from no headaches to jiff- peter
pan brains. slow roasted. throw me on toast- eat it plain. no sugar added. oil separation's
normal. and i'm stirred. what's occurring is absurd! the antidepressant i'm taking making
depression worse. tran said, "make it past the First 6 weeks, you'll be Fine." what makes him
think i'll survive the First? as much as i appreciate your enthusiasm i didn't need incentive
to hate life. of the percentage to whom the drug doesn't take right. guess i'm lucky.
frustrated cromagnon- i can't make light of seemingly anything. these Flint stones in my
hands appear to me like brimstone. been home. i never had to travel to go west. i'm not like
Fievel in that sense. i guess, if you had to compare me to a mouse, i'd like to say jerry but
algernon is really your best bet. trapped in a maze. the same pill you escape with will put
you right back, because i'm on that...
Track Name: Wow (I Can't Believe...Demons)
[chorus] [x2]
wow. i can’t believe i’m thinking like this. wow. can’t believe i’m feeling like this. wow.
wonder if i’m gonna be missed, or when anybody heard my shit, if they ever went...

never had another rapper pray for me before. thank the lord i reviewed him and gave him a
four out of Five. said he knew i’d make it out alive, though my drive had died like describ-
ing raw formaldehyde. see, i’m the kind of guy who questions if my preference for biggie is
the epitome of betrayal to my california heritage. probably because the idea of death, pac
prepared for but big seemed to cherish it. at least for suicidal thoughts recording time. i
listen and identify with all sorts of lines. uncanny how a mixed kid could have so much in
common with a black man of 300 pounds. the notion astounds but at the end of the day, we
got lonnie lynn dirt: common ground. and when i listen to him, he makes me feel like if i’m
going crazy, at least i’m not alone. how do i tell priceless, heatroc, dezo, johnny, ed hobbs
i stopped? they won’t understand when i tell them, separated in a verb and a noun, i just
wanna beat box. what am i supposed to tell quelle when he wants to work? how do i say,
“man, i really love the sounds that you did for danny brown, but i’m not ready because i plan
on being in the ground.” of course i’m a square- i don’t wanna be a-round. as far as mc’s, i
ain’t the only one around. you never needed me. pm dawn was my First cd: krs about to throw
me to the ground. so when i die, don’t feel blue. you’ll Find someone who does it better
than i do and i can’t wait to hear her rhyme. but understand i’ve given all i can this time.

bye.

[chorus]
Track Name: L.A.P.T. *Feat. Denmark Vessey*
birds must have migrated. trees turned to compost. i don’t trust my shadow. he goes
everywhere i go and this mirror is so funhouse, happy house, banshees. try to give me advice
i wanna go but i can’t leave. heart colder than ant-freeze. not anti-freeze; ant-freeze. ‘cause
you take one and you weigh one and he lifts that by 50 and this whole room is shifty. swear
that they get me but then tell me how i should rap then you not really with me, are you?

[chorus]
see, i done been through too much shit for you to come around talking that shit. i ain’t
gotta sell bricks, you can see what i built ‘cause the way that i was living, man, i could have
got killed. all these rappers talk about is chain-getting but we ain’t the same because i’m
asking for a life alert instead of a chain, trick. people talk. why should i listen? trying to
stand in the heat ‘til i burn down the kitchen.

[verse 2: denmark vessey]
my mind is a vessel. i live in the now. i rap to relieve stress plus i love my style.
all i say is dope shit. i’m thinking out loud. my granny in heaven looking down with a smile.
and i ain’t saying everything peachy but being one with everything something that the
reverend ain’t teach me and the schools lie too. well it’s cool oc. i got all these jewels
rocked, listening to tupac. we was on the rooftop struggling for power. the scuFFle
turned to homicide.. look who got the juice now, now, now?! overdose on reality- i’m tripping.
the ingenuity and insanity i had mixed in. i need some balance dog. i need some balance dog!
the awkward silence is deFinite i have had it dog! tetra-hydro-canabanal- ebb & Flow
adderall pills…stressing about money and bills and uh, i know i ain’t gon’ get no 40 acres
and a mule. or cardiers to wear. moray gators and some jewels . seem like everybody
winning, can’t nobody lose because everybody grinning in their photo-graph pose, posing.
looking just like a million, dollars though. bridge card family dollar store. lin card family
dollar store. want to pop my collar bone but i still ain’t got a phone. man, i hate to borrow
though. hit my n*gga up like, “hey mang, let me borrow twenty until the Fifteenth.
right now cousin, because my pockets on empty.” and i ain’t trying to ask my girl, because
her ego know you feel me. if she think that i can’t provide, how much longer will she feel
me? i’m crashing at my n*gga house and she looking for realty. and that’s what kill me.

[chorus 2: denmark vessey]
what i got to lie for? that’s some wack shit. i ain’t ever sold whips.
come and see what i built.
all these rappers talk about is chain-getting but we ain’t the same because i’m asking for a
life alert instead of a chain, man.
people talking. shut up do your dishes.
you could stand in the heat while i burn down that bitch.
say what?

[verse 3]
never used to drink but it’s emotional novacaine and that’s what i need. god is pulling
teeth. people telling me that i need to pray. if you know what’s good for you then you’ll
get up out my face. prayed for grandfather one hour every morning. strokes took him
like he was a motherfucking roadie. mom lost her house, where is all of this going? why
am i alive when i just can’t control it?

[chorus 3]
see, i done been through too much shit for you to come around talking that shit. i ain’t
gotta sell bricks, you can see what i built ‘cause the way that i was living, man, i could have
got killed. all my friends talking about, “i love you but something has changed. i think
that you need help because you’re not the same.” huh. maybe they’re right. keep the end of
the tunnel, i just want the light.
Track Name: Angie's Song
you said you had to set me free. i agreed. it was too much like a dream to know i couldn’t
leave. try as we might, we knew it’s how it had to be even though you touched the very best
parts of me. i put my hand in the Flame again- unafraid. and there was no pain, it was like a
sunny day. but without you, the world is such a crummy place. how can you free the bird
who fell in love with its cage? all of your kisses were predicted as 2012 because when i’m
kissing you, the whole entire world melts as though we were adam and eve. just us two. i’d
eat the fruit if it means that i can be with you. in my heart- see, it pumps and it bleeds of you.
grass is never greener than the eyes you see me through. you reminded me i love women
through and through and i don’t know all of my beliefs but i believe in you.

[chorus]
you said you had to set me free but i don’t want it. i said i know you have to leave but i don’t
want it. why can’t we just make this thing work? i love you but without it hurts.

[verse 2]
my very own kamala. i know you came into my life to help my sadhana. thank devadatta.
taught me so much- like what it means to love somebody in each touch and truly be loved.
dear angie: with each embrace another dive into the ganges. you healed me. and when you
feel me, you strip away all the inner thoughts that kill me- i become the real me. i hate
cigarettes but i would start smoking just to have another breath because you smoke
cigarettes. this atmosphere is harsh without my lips hooked up to yours to be my oxygen
mask, my lungs fall apart. you looked into my eyes and said, ‘become the man i know that you
can be.’ i turned away. you can’t see me cry. universe, what did i do? she said, ‘but you can
write a song.’ i didn’t want another song, angie, i wanted you...you...

[chorus] [x2]
Track Name: Sorry Ladybug
being a man is a funny thing, isn’t it? what makes us strong becomes our imprisonment. tell
everybody they need to change yet never wanna change ourselves like a chrysalis. i was sick.
thought that i could be royce. thought that i could be wayne. can i? course not! why the
fuck you think i’m trying to Figure myself out by looking at ink on a page like a rorschach?
so desperate for a chance or a glance, for a minute, i was actually dancing. if you listen back
to ‘passing the bar’ and the other 3, it’s easy to see- that really wasn’t me. yeah, i was
frustrated but really, i wanted to appease because everyday i was getting on my knees,
begging god because i would do anything to make it seem worth it- despite what they think.
so i called myself “mecha” like i didn’t know that ladybug did it back in 1993. i just wanted
to make it so bad, i was willing to say things i didn’t really believe. hurting inside but for
those listening, i didn’t want them to say, “not this shit again! not another cd full of songs
with his mom and being broke and not being satisFied with one thing he wrote and trying
to give up.” so i tapped into a part of myself that i never really hit up (except for, like, two
or three songs). so everything i spat up was, like, two or three wrongs. so far gone before
wheelchair jimmy. shit hit the fan when there was nothing left in me. frontin’ did nothing.
silly man! in this universe, you’re a speck. what did you expect? some things are just out of
your control. gotta let it go- spiralled. started having thoughts of suicide that went viral.
started having thoughts about death’s squeeze followed by, ‘yes...please!’ people would say,
“you need to be swaggin’! why are you angry?” everything i been through, how could you
blame me? dagger of ajanti- been through the Flame. only thing you ever been through was
scuff-ing your chain. and that’s the reason nobody knows your name.
Track Name: Shit Myself
shit myself when the disc drops, ‘cause they say we need to write for the kid bopz. rappers
spit way more but they say less. stroke they dicks way more, so i pay less. money and attention.
funny you should mention that they got the drive though. i got the suspension. i don’t
know if anyone can understand this shit. but they music is plastic: planned as shit. such a
different animal. they write for the pape[r]. i write to escape- mind cutting loose, through
the avenue. what would cowboy do? what would big pun do? maybe i should eat pizza and
cocaine too. why [do] you get to be unattached if you wack? they don’t ever have to feel
pain for they tracks. but to be me is to know that your gift betrays you. knowing any verse
that you write will drain you. might sustain you for a couple minutes then you gotta put
the pen down ‘cause it’s too painful. you have been re-living every second of the hell that
you write about from the minute that the voice said to. and you can’t stop. when you need
a friend most, then they all Flop (unless, of course, they want another interview or to push
their new song by pete rock).

[chorus]
well i am not afraid to die’ i’m scared of all the bullshit i see when i’m alive .
and the one thing i can do to put me at peace, tears me up at the same time.
you don’t hear me though.

shit myself when the disc drops because i do things you don’t do in hiphop. you’re only
supposed to write one or two songs telling where your life is and then move on. but
machine has a habit that is disgusting; a disease, like he was covered in Fleas. and it’s called
‘i could write anything but it’d be best if it’s what’s lived or seen.’ still got track 4 in my
dresser drawer. i don’t take’em anymore but i won’t Flush it. it reminds me that hell is real.
so whatever bullshit you wanna say won’t touch him. any god that you pray to won’t crush
him. only i can crush myself. you’re not inspiring. go listen to “orgasm addict.” only i can
touch myself!

[chorus]
Track Name: Thank You Omar
the ex-nihilist with the minor lisp asking myself why i exist. but that question’s as loaded as
the dice shaken very systematically within the hands of life. don’t worry how i got my name,
worry how i keep it. these ain’t songs, it’s a disc Filled with my secrets. come a long way for
a kid who opens notebooks and leaves pieces of me within its creases. i can’t believe it- when
omar got me started rhyming. he only quit ‘cause y’all was writing feces. and that could
have been me but something inside said otherwise. quit being surprised when them lies get
televised. been to hell and back. cut off the head of hades and now i show that shit off like
a new mercedes. when you feel like you’re alone, you’re not. i’m living proof: what you’re
going through, you can make it out. when i die, fuck it, i’m gonna die. hope it’s either on a
mic or in between some thighs. i don’t know if i wanna come back here. i won’t have to if this
time, i get it right. not trying to spit and say that it’s it. i’m trying to give us a hero we don’t
have to outlive.

and i’m still here.
we still here.



yeah.