Truth Be Told

by Spekulation

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released April 2, 2013

All songs produced by Spekulation
Live instrumentals composed and arranged by Nate Omdal

Vocals: Spekulation, Michele Khazak, Okanomodé, and Ripynt
Turntables: absoluteMadman
Bass: Nate Omdal
Piano: Jose Gonzales
Guitar: James Baumgart
Violin: Alex Guy, Alina To
Viola: Brianna Atwell
Cello: Maria Scherer Wilson
Percussion: Lalo Bello

Mastered by Barry Corliss at Masterworks



all rights reserved
Track Name: Hi Hello Yo
Hi hello yo, my name is spek.
You might not know me, i'm not famous yet.
But wait a sec, I'll play this set,
I gave the mic a check hit the stage and said…

If y'all drop bombs I'm a 9mm heater
known to kill the beat and leave the microphone defeated.
Believe it all i need is two adidas where my feet is.
I'ma get to steppin', smith and wessun best envy this.
Lesson heeded, I guess it needs repeatin'
you're a lesser being, i'm the best you're ever blessed to see and
believe it or not, i keep the recipe a secret better eat while it's not.
When the beat drops, it's a massacre.
Call me dessert, I'm the last to serve.
The highlander of rhyme, and my standards define,
whether standin' in candor or panderin', I'm
a vandal, an animal, cannibalize,
any band handed, fit the sample to size.
Ample supplies, i got songs for days,
but if you want another line, I'ma need another page.


I'm a hiphoppin', sh*t talkin', new seattle catalyst.
Savage, so they only let me out the box to battle kids.
Up, up away. See the symbol lit the sky.
Puff up the blaze, literally I hit 'em high.
Considered by most to epitomize dopeness,
obliterate the stage with just a bit of my emotions.
Your hopeless hocus pocus goes unnoticed,
but not for long, I'ma show you're bogus.
And when it's over and they finally know this,
you'll find me at home where the microphone is,
loaded off an overdose of bloated boasts quotin',
I hope you don't expect me to be sober when I spoke it.
Or even speak it, I'ma keep it in the present tense,
and if you're sleepin' then I'm creepin' in your residence.
That sense of hesitance is all respect,
but I don't think we've met yet, you can call me Spek.

Track Name: Remember
I remember falling asleep on the phone together,
I remember sneaking out the house like we didn't know no better.
I remember passing notes, she was always good at folding letters.
Remember acting adolescent, feeling grown as ever.
That's what I learned how to love and how to lie,
and I remember believing both of 'em at the same time.
Remember sick days, away messages and mix tapes,
going to the mall for the third, fourth and fifth dates.
I remember trust, I remember losing it,
remember getting it back and not knowing what to do with it.
And I remember all the work. And I remember remembering when it still hurt.
I remember thinking this is awfully bitter sweet,
considering these memories make up more than a bit of me.
And I remember every moment,
but I can't remember the last time we've spoken.

I remember young love meant feeling everything but hesitant,
remember saying forever before I knew what forever meant.
As it turns out, it's longer than I thought it was,
I remember getting lost, caught up in the thought of us.
Even though we were only fifteen, I needed to believe in a reason when this world didn't make sense.
Summers on the beach, i haven't been to that lake since.
Remember learning who were the true and who were the fake friends.
And I remember every single break up, but I won't list 'em all for the sake of time.
I remember being blind to the finer points of romance,
but I survived for years on the off chance of a slow dance.
I remember feeling brief elation, then thinking the world was over on a weekly basis,
I remember every single moment,
but I still can't remember the last time we've spoken.

And I don't miss it, this is just where I wanna be,
but past is prelude to this notebook in front of me.
And it's kinda funny, we depend on somebody,
so completely and totally that it's overly nutty.
Then one day they leave you, or maybe it's you that chooses it,
Who is it? Doesn't matter, that door closes you're losing it.
Maybe they try to call, all it does is confuses sh*t.
The truth of it, you both know it's over.
And just like that, the only goal becomes forgetting,
because to remember would threaten everything.
So you burn it all, mixtapes, pictures,
deleting emails even those as short as five or six words.
Before you know it you're rid of it, but somewhere in the middle it
went from bitter to a little bit bitter sweet.
Considering these memories make up a bit of me,
it'll be a pity if I every forget.
Track Name: Truth Be Told feat. Michele Khazak
It's true what they say, success'll either change or kill you.
But nothing transforms a man quite like failure.
And every day we face the ones we made the day before.
Ruminate while new mistakes replace the vacant store.
I wager all so when it falls so merrily, every wall I built will wilt and bury me.
I'll feel past regret for two of my last three breaths,
but plan to gasp the last trying not to forget.
They say just reframe success, and that's fine,
but I really only care how it's framed inside my child's eyes.
From the son who's unconceived,
to the daughter we have even dreamed of having seen.
And somehow this is for them,
but I don't believe it when I hear it in my head so I listen again…
Truth be told, this is for me,
in the hopes that when they look they don't see what I see.

I know I owe my parents everything, can't fathom what they sacrificed,
because what they dreamed to be at 23 might not have happened like
they planned it, and it happened twice.
Damn near cost 'em half their life,
But I don't know which lesson's best to take from that advice.
I just hope I'm never weak enough to give up, but pray I find the strength to give in.
Sh*t is it different living with it knowing that your gift's a risk to this kid, his bliss and his innocence?
And I still wanna be the greatest,
earn a couple spots at the top of all my hater's playlists.
And age has only made this pain from hunger felt, greater.
It betrays and breaks a promise made to save my younger self.
And a part of me still feels like i owe it to him.
We had a deal, and he held up his end.
But then again, maybe I'm just meant to pretend
he met his end when i went and shed my independence and wed.

Am I a workaholic, all in, or a big city bore?
I'm not entirely sure what my wife thinks anymore.
Truth be told, she's got the patience of a saint,
because rap records don't cover insurance and word, the payment's late.
I say it monthly, when statements come we
make, scrape and save our way to pay 'em something.
And it'd be one thing if I wasn't losing
every single dollar I put into this music.
You can't win it all, unless you bet it all? Alright, fine. Done.
My time's come. But before I roll the dice somebody better dial 9-1…
I didn't come as far as I've come to hide in some asylum
I'll either die or leave screaming, I've won
over the lie that I arrived from.
Private check the deck, I believe we've got a live one.
Track Name: We On It feat. Ripynt
I'm not an optimist, despite the rumors,
I'm quite pessimistic with a great sense of humor.
And in my absence I've learned some new maneuvers.
I'm not a late bloomer, you just should have assumed sooner.
I get up at noon, hit up the boom and get tuned in,
Who me? I been movin'. Where have you been?
Shoulda been rooting for that new kid who been droppin' fruit like newtown,
groupin' youtube in with 32-bit loops, this tune is highfalutin
Hoopin' is for ballers, and ballin' is for rich dudes.
I'm short and poor but I was born to make this kick boom.
And on the 2 and 4, the snare'll crack,
and if you think I'm standing still, I'm just too far ahead, it's parallax.
So, sit there relax, independent I'm the miramax of rap, you should be wearing black.
The barren fact is sometimes the house is packed,
other times you try to gaze from off the stage and no one's staring back.

I'd rather die enormous than live dormant, that's how we on it.

Verse (Ripynt):
They think my life is all fun and games, jokes and comic books.
Truthfully, you'd be scared to take an honest look.
It's not for faint of heart, it's been pain from the start,
so for better or worse, I became a slave to my art.
Vowed to take the game apart and doing it properly,
but that's what every rapper says when they get started, G.
Now I know that it is not my job to fix it,
but to do me to the fullest and hope maybe I can fit in.
So I mix it with that funny face, and walk around cheesin' like i'm not part of that money race,
when really I'm just tired of the tummy aches, and since take money money, take money money is what they say,
I'm thinking I'll just take yours, like what's the big deal? You can always make more.
Who am I kidding? This is not the walking dead, this is suicide living.


I'm not a pessimist, ignore the first verse.
I'm so naively hopeful, at least until my nerves burst.
So please forgive me if my word slurs,
one and two were screwed, so we're hoping that this third works.
Terse, I'll reserve words til we come to the worse worst,
I'm applying dry wit to your third.
L'chaim, bottom's up.
My glass is half full 'cause I don't got a lotta cup.
Does it depend more on if you're drinking or pouring?
This inspiration is so fleeting that I'm thinking it's forgeign.
The artist's life is either sinking or soaring,
and it's over quick like your blink and it's four in the morning.
But we go on and on.
I'm done at 1, then I'm gone at dawn.
And in between we squeeze in beats, eating and sleeping,
just to try to reach the people and keep our feet beneath us.
Track Name: All The Soldiers feat. Okanomodé
As the blunt ash collapses, i hop in the booth,
spit that understandable true shit,
go 'head move with.
Police schemes don't value life they don't act right,
brutality's a tactic, harrass and don't ask twice.
Remnants of a past life, grasp tight to power
but if this is our last righteous hour,
it's either fill the bottle with gas, light the towel,
or grab my pen and a pad and in a manic fright just howl.
I was never taught to settle, brought up a rebel,
a devil on several levels I revel in heavy rhetoric.
But when a growing percent of debtors are fed up
you better get ready cause it's the end of your set of benefits.
Too many lists kept, murders labeled missteps,
to even figure out how we all could fall to this depth.
I've been putting it in songs for too long,
but don't wanna exercise my right to do something wrong.

has no one read the signs?
another screaming siren
this clock ain't keepin time
pearls fallin before swine
another siren cries
these hands ain't keepin time
pearls fallin before swine
all the soldiers are dyin

A middle-aged father of two caught two strays,
waiting at a red light up on MLK.
It was in the headlines for maybe a day,
and I'm not even sure that it made the front page.
Young man on a rampage, shoots up a cafe,
escapes on a city bus, what the f*ck does that say?
Our public persona is homicide,
and law and order's a priority only when it's dramatized.
When the police need the people, and the people need policing,
but the people fear the people in the precint,
we need to rethink this whole thing.
Cheers, here's to hoping.
Second amendment, perpetually feel threatened,
anonymity's key, let 'em carry concealed weapons,
to manifest an unchecked aggression.
In the name of public safety, we praise smith 'n wessun.


So be afraid of the batons, be afraid of the rocks,
be afraid of the badge, and the kids on the block.
Be afraid of every sermon and urban legend you've ever heard.
Be afraid of every word you never learned.
Be afraid of your, he wouldn't, would he?
Be afraid of the headlights, be afraid of the hoodie.
Be afraid of the dark skin, be afraid of the quiet kid,
Stay so afraid of dying that you don't even try to live.
I'm a product of my enviroment, and my environment just up and rioted.
Fired, and no one's hiring, finally turnin' violent,
like David, if Goliath was an iron leviathan.
We're mired in Ireland, Italy and the Middle East.
Even the streets of Greece see little peace.
And in our own home, we rarely see justice.
Enough is enough, it's busted, f*ck this.


Spoken Word:
pig raid
baton crack
cracked rib
hands up
spread legs
don't speak
your voice has no currency here
don't speak
being neighborly has no currency here
we write these checks
we make these laws
we good ol boys & by golly we gon' protect what's OURS

second amendement
or second hand smoke up my ass?
not a puppet, i'm human & a hand's up my ass
but this is not mutual masturbation, i have not been goosed with my consent

go head
exercise your rights to bear arms & i'll drop bombs to exorcise your demons
cause if guerilla's gets'ta pullin triggas
we can all get up on pain & suffering
these scales imbalanced will surely bring the chickens home to roost

if fallen innocents are the question...? then i'm the answer muthafucka
brotha outsider & brotha grim reaper i've come to collect
supremacist teeth marks on my neck
a hood rat with rabies

concealed weapon or non existent humanity
protection of property or vigilante
u want me to give a fuck about u, then u better give a fuck about me

another glock
goes off
on block
tick tock
heart stopped.
Track Name: Nothing Left to Do feat. Michele Khazak
Every second spent is not a second earned,
yes it burns to know your patience isn't worth the wait, but lesson learned.
Other times it seems like time is all it takes,
and if you manage not to fold before you break you'll make it out okay...
Or so they say.
But knowing which is which is the trick, when you can't even picture the day.
So i'll just stick to writing these rhymes 
and let the people decide if God placed me in the right time.
That's if she even exists, 
But for the sake of this metaphor, let's leave it at this.
I don't need to list deceitfulness, the evilness of doubt is plenty.
How does anyone manage to stand out in this crowd of many?
All you can do is play loud and steady,
and never let em make you all about the penny.
They say you've made it this far, the rest of the wait's nothing,
just sit up, git up, git out and make something.

This music is a mental menace as much as it's therapy.
I'll be there as soon as my new, blue pumas can carry me.
Alright, alright, already
Why don't you try revealing your worst feeling to the delight of many?
Or even worse, to the delight of none. 
I mighta done it different, given what I know now, I mighta run.
The sight of summer comin' got this writer wonderin',
I'da done it just to spit the ones that thought I tried to front it.
If you light a blunt then hide it from me,
'cause the world is lookin' smaller, the higher up we fly above me.
No lie, I'd never say that they were right to love me,
I've had enough of my own stuff to know just why they're running.
So I could either catch up,
Or muster enough energy to seem in a rush,
You want the truth?  Best believe it as such:
My middle finger's the answer when you ask me whaddup.

But still the other shoe has not dropped,
but i keep the stovetop hot for that proverbial watched pot.
Got little hope that it'll boil over,
Know you're either loyal soldier or you're traitor,
Or you're sober or you're faded.
Slow your roll and don't debate it,
know your role, you wrote it, say it,
But most of all, know when to wait.
It's the patience, the pages, the stage is all that matters,
Your age is outta your control so save the grave to lay in after.
And stop chasing that fucking clock round and round, i'm trying to sleep!
But you should know before you go that though the clock tells the time, the time itself is yours to keep.