Limbo​(​Feat. Kana)

from Limbo EP by Zaid Tabani

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Produced by Scarebeatz


Looking for the other side of eden in LA,
Last man steppin on the line to the subway,
hopin I can find another place that can still pay,
another guy tryna find his way through the rough takes,

My arms shake rapidly, ya'll ain't having me,
mic battles a dead, while lyrics written on candy sheets,
spittin to a crowd supportin whoever's gotta eat,
I came with bugsy, he's winnin so you ain't swayin me,

The obvious probabilities musta done away with beats,
cause fuck it, who can freestyle, when you could write another speech,
who wants 8 mile, when you pass up a chance to teach,
The city ain't the city no more, you only sleep,

And there's a million ways to get up in america,
with character, but less and less the stories of who master words are passengers,
set aside for epilogues and aftewards,
I was told that holden caught me in the rye, but fuck salinger,

I just can't see where I'm walking,
looking by the great escape,

I just dont know where they want me,
Thinking bout them good old days,

Yo, class in session at the edge of the senate,
your assingment is pick a message with impression and sell it,
and it's very easy to sentence, or embelish the lesson,
I relish the tension between the peoples strength and defenses,

and who says, a bit of my idea cannot sell,
and all you gotta pick is shit you gather from most jails,
I'm hard enough to knock a man up off of his coat tails,
but I can write a ballad better than prisoner one-twelve,

and I smell raggedy, pants all baggy while the 90's soaked and they all stop saggin,
and they skinny jeaned up, cleaned up with a swag brush,
decreased material for bad english and make up,

I'd like to ask Lil Wayne why he'd forsake us,
or any other rapper who made the dreamers get paycuts,
and they don't really say much, I'm still tryna save up,
outside of a Target selling fame for a paint brush,

I just can't see where I'm walking,
looking by the great escape,

I just dont know where they want me,
Thinking bout them good old days,

You on the wrong side of the railroad,
payloads coming in for those who never say so,
The age old myth of every manakin paid gold,
dissolves when resolve for the medium polls low,

And my rap style is new, but it's an old sampler,
a bold answer, if words couda cured cancer,
then I'd answer, with a pen and an old mantra,
I'm Agile and impossible to fold backwards,

So do your math or get taught how to roll fractions,
I show you rappers how to rip a man in close captions
I'm self concious but I'll box with,
whoever talks shit on anything I revell beautiful as Toxic,

rebellious with a lot of moxy,
You ain't any less of shitty rapper if you got up and shot me
I need to keep quiet, maybe take another rhyme and just deep fry it, or they could freeze dry it,
Tell the man with no job that he seems fired

I don't know where I'm headed for the last stop,
setting up shop, with a speaker and mic propped,
singing for people I'm chewing more than I can bite off,
And loving every minute of it, so I write on,


from Limbo EP, released August 30, 2013


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Zaid Tabani Irvine, California

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