Tisse

by Sauce is Matisse

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released April 20, 2015

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Sauce is Matisse Charlottesville, Virginia

"Sauce is Matisse" is a rapper based in Charlottesville, VA inspired by both underground and mainstream music across all genres. His work showcases a sound between raw hip-hop and the most technical metal outfits.

After being described as a mental paradox, he was given the advice to “contain” that paradox in order to allow all sides of himself to coexist.

He has done this through music.
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Track Name: Writer's Block
[Chorus]
Every time I get in my zone I’m tryna kill a rhyme
Fuck a faker, fuck a phony, fuck a filler line
And instilled in my soul is the will to write
But skill is minimized when it’s time to weaponize
A state of shock is not what I’m identifying
If I’m a flop, then I’m not gonna get the time
To make it rock like cockiness is in my mind
So Writer’s Block is not how I’ma live my life
Writer’s Block, I do not got Writer’s Block
And I’ma write regardless of the bars that have locked me in Writer’s Block

[Verse 1]
They say I got Writer’s Block, what do I say to that? I’ma bay and cackle like a maniac
Backed by Mayeniac, yeah he made the track, so it’s safe to say that I came to rap
But I hate to brag, I’m just hanging back because I can’t keep a straight face spraying crap
I wasn’t made to act, with erasive tactics I’ma take your fake hits and make em fact
I’m quite scared of these nightmares cuz they’re right there, so I’ll write fear
And I never want another summer night smeared by these trite lyrics spit, aight? Hear
Me, I’ma knife, shears, and I’ma slice ears cuz I’m nice, clearly I might really
Be the one motherfucker who, despite appearances, might be nearing my height of dealing
With this nonsense, aww shit, I can’t even write this song’s script
Cuz every time I try to write a bar in, I think it’s all sick, but it’s hog shit
I’ll admit that I’m just like all kids, addicted to all this raw spit
I’m uncooked, if obnoxious is what Sauce is then I’m all in
And it’s so appealing when I’ve over-seasoned any vocals heating up the dopest beats so
When you go to eat it up and poke your teeth in, it’s loaded, seeping that potent bleeding
Flow…yo…Don’t Feed The Heathens, Writer’s Block’s not controlling me and
I’m below the median but owning beats so it’s so deceiving, no note I’m leaving, go

[Verse 2]
Even though I write the awesomest rounds, I am not quite the talk of the town
Everybody fills up and builds up clowns, so when I come around I’ma knock em all down
…wow, way to be a hater, I should wait to hate until I’m rocking a crowd
Walking around, talking aloud, and tossing my nonsense around like it’s sound
…And not dissonant, but I’m pissed at twits, with their radios listening
To these senseless hits who keep tempting kids to regret any sensible questioning
Of every level in this shallow and decadent, and impregnable temples of devils’ din
…I’m getting restless, several sins are unsettling to my mental well-being
But I could never like bad spit (Naw), guess I’ll never write that hit, naw
Like whatever I’m bat-shit, off in my own little world, if you like me I’m lost
I’ma keep it all in despite what it costs, every time I write I’ll ignite and exhaust
Spiking your cough syrup nights with a song, y’all could never write with the likeness of Sauce
And I’ma right the wrongs of unsightly songs who’re living life like a light bulb bright and on
Cuz when the lights are off and every hype-man’s gone, I’m delighted to haunt em in nightly taunts
But I might be talking that Writer’s Block, yeah I might be talking that Writer’s Block
But it smites me not, and I’ma write regardless of the bars that have locked me in Writer’s Block
Word
Track Name: Nameless
[Chorus]
These are my bangers, this is my playlist
These are my shit, but bitch I’m not famous
This is what I’m talking bout, the mainstream hates this
The freaks are all shameless leeches and I’m nameless

[Verse 1]
Good god I love the Underground, bury me now
Carry me out down that scary aisle and marry me, Sound
So now we bounce to the very town where terriers howl
At a very full moon, they’ve had it being human for now
I would dig my own grave if it kept me out the mainstream
I know they would hate me, so why should I safe? See
I’m not about that “awesome” debauchery, that’s a lame scene
Encouraging these late teens to put their faith in fake dreams
And go with the flow, so I’d rather spit this sick shit
As in I’m in this music institution as its patient
I’m patient, say shit, these rappers lacking patience
All hoping to blow, but I hope they know most of em ain’t shit, face it
So I stay content with my position in this hospital
While I watch all these cocky bullshit artists hit their obstacles
Then fall a full flight of stairs down cuz of all their gaudy gold
It’s comical, cuz all this time I’m rocking in my Pop Cult

[Verse 2]
It’s hopeless, nobody shows love to vocals in dope cuts
Unless it’s a chrome-studded colloquial faux thug
These folks wouldn’t know ruckus if ruckus was known fun
These fuckers just flow tons of this rubbish and blow blunts
No, I don’t wanna listen bout the bitches you did last night
And liquor? Pshh, go figure, I figured you’d get your “cash right”
I’m not interested in your triggers or your gat fights
Your clapping’s a sack of crap, is that your murder rap? Psych
You’re fibbing undercover like you’re Gus and Shawn
And I’m a sick motherfucker like I’m ill and fucking your moms
I’d like the bricks, all your drugs, so I can have fun with the law
You run shit hard on your block? Or are you nothing but fraud?
Fucking come on, if I was into shit they played on the radio
Hey the labels would pay me the dough to say shit I ain’t even know
Lame freaks would play me at home with ladies while baking or stoned
But I’d rather play me alone and say that I hate em, ya know?

[Verse 3]
All my underground artists, where your studios at?
I said all my underground artists where your studios at?
Are you bootleg and basement when doing your rap?
Don’t be ashamed you ain’t “made it,” your music’s intact
All my underground artists, where your studios at?
I said all my underground artists where your studios at?
Are you bootleg and basement when doing your rap?
Don’t be ashamed you ain’t “made it,” your music’s intact
And you don’t answer to nobody, your flow is your own spark and
You’re focused and dope but mostly alone at your own party
It’s hardly a party when the majority owns Barbie
But knowing that your soul hasn’t been sold to copy boasts art
See this is real shit, but a lot of hits are sellout
You sell embellished albums to your crowds? Get the hell out
Cuz I’m ready to yell now and belt this out as swelled sound
You’ll hear it well and loud even though I dwell in the Underground
Track Name: What You Had In Mind (feat. Sinatti Pop)
[Verse 1]
…I don’t think I really dig my attitude
When I’m spitting sick and stupid rapping in my blackened room
Someone get a match or luminescent batch of massive shrooms
Either dudes are sleeping on my music or I’m whackadoo
Some rhymes inspire me to teabag the irony
And go cock to tonsils with anybody lying to me
And tryna repeat tired lines of why I should be tryna be
The quiet guy who I can be when trying to hide the violent freak
I’m a G…Nah fucker should I stoop to be
These stupid scheming posers while I croon about elusive peace?
While I’m moving keys of coke to units snooping through the streets?
I move in lucid dreams, Lucifer’s as cool as heated
Demons, I’ma school these music heathens on their playground
Hey now, anytime I play around hate’s bound
To snake its way into the sound, hey you know your way around
The nonsense store? I want a golden suit and plated trousers

[Chorus]
I don’t care where you’re from as long as you’re a lyricist
Spare the flare, spare the “fun,” I just wanna hear you spit
But Ladies let their hair down in the club for all the mirror shit
Carbon copy narrow shit, they hear but they won’t spare a cent
They JUST wanna bump, JUST wanna grind
Lame FUCKS wanna stunt, FUCK all the rhymes
LaBELS want a cut, FUCK getting signed
I’ma rhyme how I wanna, FUCK what you had in mind

[Verse 2]
So I used to have a “Rap Legends” poster in my room
But to be honest I only knew like a quarter of the dudes
Let’s say 20%, so who’s a rapper to you?
A flash back to when I actually got that dap in my youth
Now I creep for hours seeking out celebrity nudes
To post in the hopes of increasing my degenerate views
My internet presence since has left me confused
Because no matter what I do, my shit’s reflecting a noose
And telling me to kill myself? Bitch my shit is real as hell
Vivid how I live in spitting, just in case you couldn’t tell
So I shouldn’t dwell on what I coulda done or should to sell
Because I’m way beyond that point in life when I would push to fellas
Out in the Commons, now let’s be honest, I was not hip
I did not have all the confidence to follow up the bomb threats
But now I’ve blossomed into awesomeness, no contest
Too bad my youth had to be used for all that nonsense
Track Name: This Man Spitting (I)
[Chorus]
I’m tryna make a fuckin fan listen
A mufucka on a damn mission
But I don’t hustle with my ambition
I’m up and running in the stands swinging
A fuckin rumble, now the fans get in
I’m hunting humble with my hands hitting
You fucking stumble when you stand trippin
So come to understand this man spitting

[Verse 1]
I’ll craft a multi-syllabic attack on your ass like I’m batshit
And you’re Man-Bat against Batman, you’re fly but don’t have half the wit
When rapping shit like crappy gifts, I’ll stash em in my bag of tricks
And wiggle down your chimney like that fatty Nick through ashy lint
Grab a pen, Matt is in the house now, I’m company
So run with me on funky features, bumping beats and humming heat
Eat something sweet and summon demons up from under other’s feet
There’s only one Matisse so there ain’t nothing once you’re done with me
Fuck with me, I’ll invade your home and drop my tape in places
8-day-olds’ll play alone and play it over baby songs
So all of these colicky little infants’ll sing along
And make you all some crazy awful neighbors when the wailing stops
Shake it…shake it…shake it…y’all shake it off
Is it lawful using Taylor’s song for babies shaken calm?
Ain’t it wrong? Ain’t it undebatable that Satan’s shawl
Was sewn into the hood of my hoodie before I paid for cloth?
Matt-isms! Passed the nastiest class in rap lit
But that shit was practice, I’m axing you halfwits
And hacking this rap shit to rags every track spit
Matt’s sick, ad-lib, I’ve had it with these chapped-lipped
Losers who woo ya, they’re stupid and their rhymes suck
But mine are refined, every line is a mindfuck
I’m nuts, sign up for a fire and I’ll light up
Ignite a ton of dynamite and mic up my life, what

[Verse 2]
I want my Pop cult to absorb Mac’s hordes
You can tell them all I took it by force, Chuck Norris
I got Morris in my corner, Sinatti Pop’s on the boards
And so every time I hear the score it makes me want it more
But I get bored with my shit about a minute after dropping it
I gotta get better at this product pitch and lobbying
For causes cuz my honest hits are not leaving a lot convinced
That I can spit, I’m dying sick in silence with this vibrant script
I’m damaged by anxiety, panic long as my eyes can see
The only time I’m still is when I die at night so silently
And quietly, but I awaken violently midnight to 3
My eyes are moving rapidly, but I’m writhing while I’m tryna sleep
…Read me a bedtime story or sing a lullaby
Bout how I’ve fucked my life and how I only fucking wish to die
Shit’s a lie, but fibbing isn’t quick defined within a rhyme
I’m vibing with hyperbole to illustrate my vivid mind
“Mystify…” every single kid who’s on the internet
Who’s off and clicking threads about hip-hop and who’s up getting next
“This the best!!” Thanks, I guess? “So why’re you not getting press?”
Cuz I ain’t tryna impress anyone, admit my shit’s a mess
Yet I script this verbiage and work it into furious sets
I’m bleeding every lyric, I’ma die without a tourniquet
Where’s the vet? I’m working like a dog through all this nervousness
All you seem unsure and so I’m asking “Is it worth it?” Yes.
Track Name: Just In Case
[Verse 1]
I used to use an inhaler, I was clearly asthmatic
Now I rip tracks like hacking limbs off heroin addicts
Married the stereo cabinets, planetarium status
Yeah bitch I'm outta this world, aliens' weird apparatus
Fashioned a pact back when teachers had been preaching of Jesus
And now my lyrics bleed in speakers while peers abusing baristas
So the caffeine can speed up their weak and feeblest features
They're freaking leeches, high society's a demon, believe it
...See I'm tryna summon Beetlejuice, Betelgeuse? Edelweiss
Bump my sound of music, the hills are alive and made for sight
Open eyes so I can take in light, but I see widescreen cuz I’m Asian and White
Waving my right hand faking a fight, while I’m steady with my left making flavored rice
I'm not from poverty, a lot of fucks are taunting me
Coming from the gutter? I come from a doctor, mom, and trees
Suburban honesty, no talking like I walked the streets
But all of yall’ll be coughing in heat when I drop this hot release

[Chorus]
A lot of artists feed to stereotypes
Wearing the mic like a lanyard as they carry the hype, right?
If no one wants to love us while we’re up on this stage
We’ll throw a middle finger up, then another one just in case
We know we’re ill like we’re sicker than SARS
Stitching these scars with these lyrics as we’re spitting these bars hard
If no one wants to love us while we’re up on this stage
We’ll throw a middle finger up, then another one just in case

[Verse 2]
Listen, I come in
Swinging, hitting lyricists with whiffle ball bats
Spitting raw raps, since it’s all Matt, this is combat
Ditch your straw cap and replace it with a hard hat
I’m raining (reigning) from the heavens, the Devil’s infected God’s lab
Get it? I’ve injected my rhetoric with a hex of grammar
Cursing words, electric verses working, get me steady hammer
Slam it, wrecking every jam elected when I’m venting bangers
Any stress that gets to be a problem, I’ll Cortexiphan ‘em
Fuck your Walter White, Bishop is my spirit beast
Clear-a-ly he mirrors me empirically, we merrily
Rock out behind the steering wheel, scary cuz we carelessly
Are wielding precariously errant dreams in daring deeds
I’m out and WOWing ‘em, I’m skilled with the draw y’all
It’s like I’m Metallica while I’m Killing ‘Em All off
A villainous sillyman and I’m iller than coughs
Spitting arterial willy-nilly, I’m spilling TheSauce, so drip-drop

[Verse 3]
So I guess I'm a fool cuz I went through too many years of private school
Acting prim and proper, the fact is I was as raw as fuel
Unrefined, dying in those classrooms with all them tools
Follow cues? Nah I'd rather off and call an audible
And make shit up as I live my life, this gig isn't really quite
What I anticipated back when I had just begin to write
Or just begun, fuck your fun, I'd rather envision hype
When I get up on stage and spit these vivid lyrics into mics
But about 6 years have disappeared since I commanded fans
Enchanting stands with random chants in tandem with this frantic man
Prancing up on stage as awkward walking as your gran or gramps
Tryna make it seem like we ain't ancient, we jam to the blandest brands
We get no thumbs up, speaking over dumb chumps
Mumbling something under the rumble of their trunks subs
This stinks of punk skunks, listen, fingers up once
Nah I'll make it twice, no index, pinky or ring, what's up
Track Name: Sarcasm
[Verse 1]
I say I’m an artiste…you say “Spit a bar, Tisse!”
So I get a hard beat, then I rip it apart, EAT
Yall listening to charred meat, those remnants of hard beef
But I’m not regretting any scars I keep because they’re part of me
I’m tryna get in a rhythm and spit this hellish shit I’m thinking
But I’m unhealthy, father’s kid is no physician
And I’m in a predicament, I’m in need of a prescription
I’m sick with a mental illness science isn’t so familiar with
I’m over dealing with every single thing I think on a daily basis
And I hate that I lay awake in stasis states while staring blankly
Out into outer space, or how I stay complaining bout my place
In a Vacant Basement, if this the way it’s that it’s bound to stay
I ain’t gonna “Make it”…but what the fuck does that bullcrap even mean?
I don’t wanna seem like I’m being facetious or evil, but rap is a freaking scheme
I don’t wanna sell my soul to the corporate demon unless that shit’s redeemed
Get to me? Innervisions’s seen my depth, so let me vent and leave this scene

[Chorus]
Okay, now I've decided to take the time
To tell you within a rhyme that nothing inside my mind is fine
I'm scarred smashing these rappers track after track while I'm rapping ‘em
This is madness, y’all are talking smack but I don’t get the sarcasm
Sometimes I just wanna quit rhymes
Then I drop a sick line and I’m up again live
I'm scarred smashing these rappers track after track while I'm rapping ‘em
This is madness, y’all are talking smack but I don’t get the sarcasm

[Verse2]
No I’ve never been cool and I never been popular, but I'm rocking this spit
And I’ve never been a tool, I’ve never been cocky, but how awesome is this?
My syllable spool is sewing a costume I can rock in the wind
I don't get it how the rudimentary nonsense tops, and I flop with this flint
When I strike this rap, light this match, everything aflame when I write these facts
A hype beats slashed? It might be matt, can I get a reputation well-liked tracks?
"Ye" and can I get a like please after? "Nay" whatever get a life "keep sassing"
Kay, I don't get the badge or the acting, cuz I don't get shit if it's sarcastic
Maybe because I come from around the metro
They're bound to let go their sour death notes
But I drown in direct quotes, as loud as deaf goes
Empowered breath ' s prose now is found on my headstone
I vocally vent, opening drowning dead souls
For now I'm bound down in the underground, so let's grow
But I've found however many downloads get sold
Is not in correlation to your sound or sets though

[Verse 3]
Yo, all I see is frames but no faces
It's like I’m praised by the nameless
They say they show support but they’re flaking
No wonder I'm afraid of the faceless
The fakest and the fickle and the faithless
I feel like every compliments evasive
They're playing when they saying that I make hits
Because really they ain't giving any saved shits
Track Name: Fall (feat. Chaos Chytist)
[Verse 1]
So I’m hitting these bars like I'm Sterling Archer, I'm surely sharper
Roberto Belcher with beef I'ma burn you charred hurt, my burgers larger
Verses scar ya, wordsll Mar ya, not meant to murder but I'm a sick carver
My Cursed heart is working harder than any impotent and worthless artists
I guess everyone here is in therapy, and they’re scared because they cannot bear to see
All These parodies out here in clarity, aware that the freaks are all sharing dreams
They’re their Pairing evil and daring deeds, from tearing it up in these scary streets
With fairly decent and barely cheesy jams, but weakened airs released
...you hover above this? I'ma uppercut your McNuggets
And I’ll have you stumbling wondering how you can undo all of your dumb hits
I'm done with this, nothing can get me up gunning like malicious tongue twists
So listen up for this kid to spit bitch, and fuck your club hits
Cuz I’m a habitual vocalist, I said it I meant it, how dope is this?
I’m focusing and honing in, whatever a reverie hoax this is
Forever and never, the moment’s slim, regret or forget it, I’m over this
I hope this isn’t no beginning, I’m better in rhetoric, spoken sin

[Verse 2]
Yall are some Dr. Loomis like you're all scared of the mic (Mike)
Like All of the music that I’ma write is frightening, a werewolf at night
A Miracle blight, it's like I’m a Lycan sick with a terrible bite
But then I can hide behind my guise inside of my mirror and light
Yeah Matt is a radical activist with the wrath of a pathogen
My attack’ll be rapidly quick, when I slap ‘em with adjectives
A tragic affliction, and I'm wreaking havoc while rapping this
with my massively passionate acts of savagery, ravenous
And I'm willing to drill into competition n kill ‘em
From within, illness in rhythm, my skill’s distilled into venom, I'll dead ‘em
I’m unlevelheaded, bent on wrecking phonetics
And I'm set to decimate any pathetic Redditor unthreaded, get it?
If y’all wanna dig up the ditch I've been in, give this a spin
Common? All of my knowledge is infinite, I’m omniscient
This is it, its omnipotence, bigger than any, Its definitely
Deafening when records spit go harder than quality veterans

[Verse 3]
Dammit I'm crammed in this banana stand scripting all the sickest jams
It can't be only me unless I'm twisted up like an ampersand
"Can it man?" It beats me, this instrumental’s banging and
My tempo is impeccable like I’m George-Michael on candid cam
Jamming with no metronome, infected vocals and deadly flow
I’m beestin, hear me breathe on a beat, y’all won't need a stethoscope
Forget the note, I'll let ‘em know, so yo, let go of my testicles
All of y’all are breaking my balls, I’m exploding, get your G.O.A.T.
Track Name: Let My Devils Out
[Verse 1]
I cannot be bothered by the calls of our father
My Alma mater is on earth, stepfather 's fallen upon her
But I am not the spawn of Satan, sister’s not demon daughters
I'm an adopted little monster walking off to the slaughter
Coughing, decaying from within...i wince and i cringe
This is the whim of every imp I spit up scripting these hymns
Whistling din, hella melancholy melodies spin
Meld and envelop me, telling me yelling’s seldom a sin
But I zip my lips, bite my tongue, like I’m spiteful but humble
Though I'm bubbling up erupting, nothings dumped from above you
It's just another fucking rumble in my stomach, a "fuck you"
For all the stunts that I could done, but I funneled ‘em unto
My fucking self, fuck this hell, but I don't want to rebel
That shelling wouldn't end well, so I've stuck to myself
Oh what a well that I've dug myself, drowning, a spell
And all this pouting overpowers all the love that I've felt

[Verse 2]
So the Devil looks after his own, oh. A little like catching a cold, yo
And there ain’t no cure for the old, soul. So you’d better lock down what you wrote, go
Every single syllable I spoke, flows, up esophagus, acid in throat, gross
Exorcist words from clergy? Nope. Y’all better just go home. DOPE
The Devil is cunning, trying to tear me away
But I keep writing these words in these verses smeared on this page
And I am not about cowardice, fear is feeling so fake
And I’m playing Devil’s advocate whenever lyrics’re at stake
I’ve had a devil of a time tryna make this work, no luck of the devil cuz I may be cursed
Devil-may-care cuz I’ve painted my hearse the worst shade of gray when I lay in the dirt
But I don’t see earth cuz I’m Murdock lurking and working the tempo like Hell’s Kitchen vermin
God and the Devil, 2 sides of the same jerk, faith hurts, face first, man he remains third
…Am I a Devil? …No I’m a man
Therefore every Devil resides in my heart, canned
…I can’t stand to rant, my crippled hands
Are cancer-riddled, damn these answers written, damn
Me to hell

[Verse 3]
I do this to let my devils out lest they consume my soul
But truth be told, I'll never break this ruthless hold
I'm all alone and regret life, stare at you through dead eyes
When I let my apparent devils vent, I’m
Not possessed, I pray I'm not possessed
Track Name: Elizabeth
[Chorus]
God bless you Elizabeth, ever since I was a little kid
Your kiss was permanent on my skin, but your lips are why I’m meant to sin
I know you meant no harm with your embrace, but within your arms is where I learned to hate
First through eighth, a serpent waiting to purge what was learned and then burn this faith

[Verse 1]
I was educated in a lions’ den with liars chiming in and tryna blend
Hiding in these vibrant gems and denying a destiny of primal sin
Sometimes I rewind to when I’m a kid, a quiet-lipped, silent child in
That pious zen, I was alive but dead, it would be a decade before my eyes opened
Is it pathetic that I never let it go? Is it regrettable I stress about unknowns?
Because Heaven’ll never let me in, but the belles in Hell’ll be like “Welcome home!!”
I seldom go where the hell-bent go because I never obsess over hell-bent goals
But my hell-bent soul is a well-spent ghost and it’s better I never regret a hell-bent roast
So to each his own, believe what you wanna, I don’t ever wanna be the demon in a sauna
But sometimes I just gotta release what I bottle, so I’m not about to martyr a believer with a motto
(OH) …And it’s times like that that I want a tenderizer to massage my back
Cuz I’m so stressed out to the point I’m a wreck, heck “How bout you breathe cyanide, Matt?”
I never tried suicide, but between you and I, doom and life seem to be the same so “who decides?”
The brutal lies, or the human and the putrefied, neither, I’ma try it blind, either’s for a foolish mind
I’ll live my life in these tunes and rhymes, proving that beauty is in the eye of who chooses sight
My loosest line’s tighter than a crucifix crucifying Jesus to Judas, this is who your “truth” defined

[Verse 2]
Lemme say this, I can’t take it, I don’t want no more of this fake shit
Ain’t nobody come to be my buddy while in Saints’ scripture, ain’t nobody talking straight-lipped
They’d just say shit like they’re blameless, erased are the days when I’d take shit
I’ma take this halo up above my brain and break it, a symbol of hatred
I was caged up through grade 8, feeble, but when I graduated I stayed lethal
That rage that had fashioned a place in my abdomen made me what I became, evil)
I hold grudges, I ain’t vocal much, but these vocals pump and eat holes in punks
Who preach total love, but when you hope for some, they just open up a deep soul of nothing
Fuck… And I won’t ever go back, no matter how many trump cards are stacked
I don’t give a rat’s arm bout nostalgia and crap cuz I’m too fucking old to be bummed far back
A lumbar strap to support my backpack, too many actions in pageants at Mass
Back in class I would try so hard, then I half-assed after I gathered the fact I was a lab rat
Back in my current lab I work on these burned tapes to set a bridge so ablaze that it burns waves
Murder takes with a rage that was learned sane, but birthed anger and angst when I learned hate
First grade was the first stage where worms wade, I was immersed in a churned lake of pure pain
Convert me with a sermon of a virgin birth? You’re late, most of the jerks who I wanna curse are your Saints
Track Name: See Me Fail (feat. Lou Ka$h)
[Verse 1]
It seems like every song I spit’s ignored or viewed in passing
If you want me to do some more or you want me to mute, just ask me
I keep keeping up this rapping cuz people keep on clapping
At least the few who feel like saying “Dude, you so nasty!!”
I could do more than shoot porn with new torque as I lube ornaments
You force into new corners in crude orgies of cute horny
Sorority newbies joining a brute force in a new form
While I scoop foreign newborns outta loose whores with a shoehorn
Ooh boy… it sounds like I’ve finally had that bad day
Jack’s way, a cracked brain making way for the mad insane
Out of sight and out of mind, you all look at me that way
“Your rap’s lame” That bad, eh? Then how come I’ve got mad plays?
I’m kidding, they’re little, so minimal, I’m obsolete
The only way I get these Tweeps to follow me is follow sprees
Golly gee, god I wanna be the hottest, honestly
But modesty is all I breathe and topically I’m not that heat

[Verse 2]
Maybe I should change my ways, am I saying I should paint my face?
And make my makeup shaped up like the Jokerr with an Asian blade?
Say my name in your shameless game and I’ll take this razor and make filets
Save it babe, my tongue’ll cut you fucking cunts, I came the steak
That you ate this evening, ain’t I seedy? …Fuck that I’m just plain creepy
Playing beats and spraying heat, serrated teeth chew bangers easy
But no one sees me, seems like I’m an undiscovered species
Underrated, underappreciated by these laymen, now leave me be
Secrecy, I need dark to sleep in peace
I’m a hardened carnivore and I’m starving for tasty beats to eat
Feed me heat and I’ll carve it clean, I’m a shark who’s scarred through ancient deeds
And arctically coldhearted demons who martyred me to keep the peace
Now I speak silently, screaming oh so violently
Tryna be this vibrant beam of light within this quiet dream
I’m kinda beat…I’m trying but I cannot succeed
Why can’t I believe that I can be the kind of freak who buyers need?

[Verse 3]
I keep having the same dream where these lame people hate me
Saying I’m too tame for their horrorcore, but too morbid for mainstream
Claiming they can’t label me, what’s the horrible vacancy?
If labels can’t stay framing me, then shouldn’t I be breaking free?
I guess the niche markets where this really fits aren’t as
Common as I want ‘em to be, harmony in pitch, target
Bars at darker kids while barring kids who’re far too sick-hearted
I’ve got hardly anyone, but I’ma get this shit started, Sauce
Track Name: Artists & Martyrs (feat. Playboy The Beast)
[Chorus]
We’re the artists and martyrs
We’re the honest and martyred artists

[Verse 1]
Hi, I’m Matisse, the rap Jackson Pollock piece, I’ll admit it’s hard to swallow me
When I’m carving a feature out of oddities, but in all honesty, I’ve got a quality
That’s not often seen within these starry G’s, but it’s hard to keep it up and bark on beats
When these gnarly streets keep a darkened sheet right beside all of my rhymes like I’m a martyred freak
All I do is hate on other rappers, sick and pitiful, when am I gna get it through my head I’m invisible?
Shit ain’t even minimal, nobody even listens through, hidden on the internet, I’m getting sick of little dudes
Blowing the fuck up and making me look miniscule, sitting in an inner tube while they all swim in bigger pools
Bitch I’ma forget the rules, fuck a frikkin hit or two, I’ma let it loose with my vision and beget a new
Age of artists, way of the tarnished, faces hardened by their place in the darkness
Make you astonished, take in the starving, and bake ‘em a marvelous cake for their hardship
This Sauce is a patient marksman, waiting to harness the faith of the fallen
I don’t even target before I spit carnage, and this is my morning shit, it’s alarming

[Verse 3]
Never utter my name thinking I’ll ignore you, never utter my name digging for the boy who
Never fucking uttered but a stutter to avoid you, you’re never motherfucking ever fucking with this Tsoy dude
“Tsoy who?” See that’s my point dude, ain’t nobody wanna be my buddy and enjoy tunes
Tsoy loses, America’s point proven, ain’t nobody love the motherfuckers who enjoy music
So we keep it up, writing our verses, writing our trite little lives into hearses
Signing our certificates and micing our murders, like we would like this to lighten our curses
But we’re God damned, fighting this urgent indictment and working to right this internment
Of like wordsmiths, bright but imperfect, that’s what it’s like to live life with these urges
Track Name: Catcher In The Rye
[Chorus]
This is for the kids who’re alone and lonely (like me)
Bless an adolescent who won’t go for phonies (like me)
Hoping they ain’t Holden to a Catcher in the Rye
Pipe dreams might seem quite trite until you fly (until you fly)

[Verse 1]
I remember ten years prior to the present
Grades 9, 10, and 11, I was wired with this venom
Coursing through my veins, silent but in my head I was an enemy
No friend to me, regrettably I meant the shit I said to me
Anyone who hates who they are, this for you
Anyone who’s praying for tomorrow, this for you
Anyone who came to the party or the bar
But who’s waiting by the car for their friends to finish boozing, this for you
Don’t ever let a “rebel” get you down
Cuz you ain’t went with them to town to do shit that ain’t allowed
Hell, you’re better than them, how? Cuz your vision’s in the clouds
And these kids are friggin sheep the way they listen to the crowds
Who’s really breaking rules? And who’s paying dues?
Who’s playing who when they ain’t staying in school?
Who’s making moves for a future? It’s true
That the dude who’s en route to a new age is you

[Bridge]
You say you relate to nobody?
You say you’re a stranger at most parties?
You’re praying you won’t die as a pariah
But I’m saying you’re a liar when you say you’re nobody

[Verse 2]
They labeled this table of kids the outcasts (cool)
They labeled this table of kids clown brats (cool)
They labeled this table of kids the “now” pack, cool
But what label are you taking when you hate em all? (fools)
Fake ID’s, the fake I needed’s some fake white teeth
To fake my cheesing when fakes recited a night or evening
Or even a weekend, I fake liked hearing their beefing up
The set of events that progressed as their life beested
Please, I never fit in with any of em
I know there must be others who are sick of hearing nothing
Cuz to be a real rebel stunting now you’ve gotta feel something
Other than the puff of a blunt or your fucking beer buzzing
I’m too far removed to sit here and stew
But that doesn’t mean I can’t spit a verse for a few
Minutes getting this shit off my chest for a blessing, imbuing
Breath to a dude who fights depression in my youthful shoes
Track Name: Lowcountry (feat. Chase Holfelder)
[Verse 1]
Low, country, we drove down for the weekend
And we, we fell in love with the city on that evening but see
We had to leave but I made promise and a pact
That we’d be back, and now we’re back like that and feeling freedom
We’re free from ennui, we’re breathing in calm breeze
We’re keeping it SC while sleeping with palm trees
In Chucktown, what now, nothing can dissolve these
Feelings that resolve deep demons, now it’s all sweet
Syrup on chicken and waffles, honest to God
Ain’t nobody walking taller on the cobblestone block
Through the farmers’ market, I just bought a lot all for my dog
God it’s like I won the lotto when I got up for a walk
It’s simple pleasures after desperate measures
Had been taken in a relocation effort for the better
Of the both of us, I know it’s tough, but focus on a moment’s love
And notice how the hope is flowing from the door we opened up

[Verse 2]
…yup, I’m lovin’ it, Lowcountry all day
Ain’t no elevation, we stay behind iron wrought gates
Gazing at sunsets like Funfetti crumb cake
If you could get one day in Charleston, you’d come stay
Second Sunday, get me sweet grass baskets
Home-woven, you know this is street craft madness
Seafood catches stay fresh, no plastic
They make their way to plates like they came out the Atlantic
City caught my eye in a Carolina summer
And I wanted to be Southern for the love of pride and comfort
Under coastal skies owning the nights, style and wonder
Living life how I wanna right now, I’ma call
Whatever happens down here’s gonna stay ‘round here
Cuz I’m staying down here til I’m frail without hearing
And I’m nearing the end of my life with a grayed-out beard
And every anniversary I’ma remember the year when

[Bridge]
Ain’t no country like Lowcountry
Let’s go honey, let’s roll lovely
Let’s coast Sunday round old money
Our Lowcountry, our home honey
Track Name: Vacant Basements (II)
[Bridge]
…Yo I’ma stay making playless playlists
…Cuz I ain’t really on my way to make it
…And I ain’t really made for faking famous
…So I’ma stay awake in vacant basements

[Verse 1]
Every time I quit music, I go get back right into it
Writing loopy lunatic movements, guess I’m quite the stupid
Fucker cuz I love it more than other more constructive uses
Of my time, but rhyming’s proven right to soothe the whiny nuisance
Who is I, who am I to write about clearer vision?
Smear the condensation away so I can continue spitting
Staring in the mirror so I can look at my lyricism
Hear the rhythm, lyrical slithering so you fear the venom
When I bare my teeth, am I scared to speak? Nah dude
This could be the jam of the week on repeat with all you
But all you all put on are all these awful installed tunes
Instead of rocking out to Sauce, I’m raw with the volume, look

[Chorus]
I’ma stay awake in vacant basements
Yeah, I’ma stay awake in vacant basements
Know what I’m saying? I’ma make a statement
So I’ma stay awake in vacant basements

[Verse 2]
I have yet to make a dime of profit from my raw spit
If I hustled just as often as this nonsense I’d be awesome
And you’d know it, but at the moment I’m just awesome in the darkness
Barking bars with all this confidence, but honestly I’m modest
To a fault… I won’t brag to you
“Oh you rap, do you?” Yeah, but I won’t blast new tunes
Hollering obnoxiously that I spit fucking crack used to
Stab your rag doll in the back with a thumbtack, voodoo
I’m not the radio, I won’t fucking brainwash
This hate into your brainwaves, I’ll let you be lame-sauce
I’ll let you be fake-hard and fake-boss while taking off
With anything that fame tosses at your face that ain’t Sauce

[Verse 3]
Look, I still got it bro, even though I’m mighty old
Vice grip on the brightest lightning nice-spit haiku, tightest hold
I’ll let go of flowing poems only when it’s time to go
Only when it’s time to float back home alone dying’s boat
But I can’t imagine not having a pad to rap in
If it happened, I would fashion a back-alley shack to nap in
After tracking out the baddest of Matt-isms snazz and having
It mastered back in the lab where the madmen have their contraptions
Am I a has-been? When was I ever being?
I spit this shit by my lonely only to keep on breathing
So every heathen who heeds the words that my neck is screaming
Better be a nether-demon set on stealing record pieces, peace
Track Name: Matisse
[Verse1]
While you all turn up, I shut that shit down
I’m all but burnt up bitch I’m bout to spit now
So put your dick down and get it through your thick brow
That I ain’t tryna gimmick this shit, I’m tryna rip sound
Can I rap me a feature to slap on your songs? While yall are all drinking and packing your bongs?
Having a ball, trashing the mall, carrying on with the pack of your dawgs?
Naw… …So I’m feeling rejected, my back to the wall
Hopped in my coffin, relax and withdraw, when all that I want is some clapping applause
…Yup, that’s Underground, wond-er-ous sounds, but all fucking around
Hung’ring for crowds, hundreds of thousands come from around, light em up, get em loud
…And that’s the dream, but ain’t nobody here near pragmatic as me
See I have to be when rap laughs at me, I can’t fathom the asshole I’d have to be
So as I’m ripping this Sinima beat, I’m flowing and letting my energy free
I’m knowing I’m potent and spitting that heat, and no one can take this away from Matisse
Nah…Am I really a freak? Really as silly as what I must seem?
I’m willing to feel what I feel to release, but still I’m a millionth of what I could be

[Chorus]
I love this music scene, but what’s it ever done for me?
My lyrics paint a vivid picture but no one bumps Matisse

[Verse 2]
While you all spit turd, tryna get heard
I’ve been scripting words of wisdom, tryna network
But the shit hurts, when ain’t shit worked
I guess I suck at this business, I ain’t big terms
But I’m kind of a dick when I’m working with artists, nobody’s perfect and nobody’s flawless
But lots of these “artists” are farces, talking a lot but not working their hardest
…It’s the curse that we’re scarred with, churning the dirt but not learning to farm
It’s already hard enough herding the heartless, wording a verse and then work in the garden
I’ma plant the seed, might seem mellow but ain’t nobody amped as me
And I can’t believe how all these handsy leeches keep reaching, damn, call my brand Matisse
And if you’re thinking that I’m handing out candy free, I won’t dignify your ass with an answer, please
…I can’t stand to be, below the bottom of this pandering trampoline
Now a lot of this hobby is hogging my time, so why’m I not popular rocking these rhymes?
Why’m I not following stars in the sky? Cuz stars are too hollow to swallow their shine
…So I wallow in mine, cough up my heart while I scrawl a few lines
And all of my sorrow is fostering lies when I tell myself honestly all is all right

[Verse 3]
So as I’m ripping this Sinima beat, I’m flowing and letting my energy free
I’m knowing I’m potent and spitting that heat, and no one can take this away from Matisse
Nah…Am I really a freak? Really as silly as what I must seem?
I’m willing to feel what I feel to release, but still I’m a millionth of what I could be
Nope, I won’t settle for that, but I know I’ll never blow up selling my craft
Oh crap…So to hell with that, yeah I’ve been heavy metal, been to hell and back
And I’ve felt attacked, belted, melted tracks, then I fell back, felt I would shelter Matt
You can’t tell me jack about fulfilled or lacking, cuz I’ve still got skill and the will to rap, what
Track Name: X's & O's (The Good Life) [feat. Rody Walker]
[Verse 1]
This Matt man, he needs to rap
He needs to craft spit to breathe on tracks
But he’s feeling whack because he needs that cash
So he can feed that family he needs so bad
But he’s no dad, and he’s no actor
He sees those factors that scheme those traps
To keep those magical dreams so average
Scene’s so stagnant though he goes after it
She lets me keep it going though she’s not a fan of it
And so I keep on flowing dope because I can’t stop it
And so I stand nodding, rocking to my jams
Popping off like I’m the man, falsely falling on my fans honest
But I’ve got a lot to stand for, I’m a man modest
While I’m talking bout how I’ve got all this banned knowledge
She doesn’t understand, but she holds my hand, palm and
Fingers intermingle and we’re sitting as a pair and she’s saying

[Verse 2]
She looks after me cuz I’m ridiculous
A bit of Asperger’s, OCD, meticulous
When I mingle with hits I’m addicted to it
But she’s fluent as a muse when I’m sticking to it
While I do this, she’s cool with the music
Even though the “movements” I groove to have no movement
So stupid, vocally no human
Should ever stress about the betterment of old bruises
But I can’t stop, it’s a dance-off
Though my jams rock, I’m ashamed so she can’t watch
I’m the same as the pain that I can’t drop
But I’ve gotta leave that behind and be a man pronto
Onto bigger things, better places
Lawn’s always greener on the other side by neighbors
I hate these ways, but I’ve gotta make payments
Lame how I’m a tenant in my brain, but she’s saying this

[Verse 3]
So I wanna say thank you for loving me, thank you for being there
Thank you for not packing backs up and fleeing scared
Thank you for helping me walk when my feet won’t dare
I’m feeble and awful and all, but I see you stare
Right back at me, smiling and laughing
And when I see that, that means I’m happy
That means rap is my craft, but I’m actually
Happier snacking on crackers and napping
With you, yeah you, and only you
Cuz you helped grow me from lonely to fruitful
And truthfully I think I owe you the moon so
Quatro, treice, dos, now uno
You go zooming to infinity and beyond
And I’ll add one, then rap a little wee song
Just keep on, doing what you’re doing
And we’ll be strong, we rock, all because you keep on saying
Track Name: Keep At It (feat. Diezel & Jasmine Chloe)
[Verse 1]
One of my idols taught to
Try for what you love, because the chance is just as great
If not way greater some would say, that you could fail at what you hate
For acting absent, lacking passion when you’re playing it safe
Now I’m a waste, I spent two decades all chained in that state
So what, was I supposed to spit with no contingency plan?
Licking these lyrical jams livid and pissed at The Man?
And frikkin shit on what was given to me? Privileges, damn
Listen I didn’t take a chance to live my scripture in-hand
So now I work a 9-5, plus some overtime, earning for
These checks that bounce some of the time, what have I been yearning for?
Turning this pastime and this hobby into perfect form
But what if I learned that I sucked at what my passion’s burning for?
This isn’t the prettiest living setup, admittedly
I’ve been up and down and out, because of spitting religiously
I live by squashing demons with the singing within me
But I’m not following my dreams, instead I’m bringing em with me, wassup

[Chorus]
I really believe in what I’m yearning for, working towards
I’m never leaving this fervor, burning torch, lurching forth
Learning to stomach my troubles, turn to morals for support
I’ma keep on keeping at it ‘til I’ve got the perfect score
I’ll never give up, never give in
Trials tearing me up, wearing me thin
While everything’s tough, I’ll let it sink in
I keep at it cuz I love it, nothing’s better than this

[Verse 3]
Don’t be a phony, don’t be the lonely ‘fraid kid
Don’t be the only homie who’s roaming through the vacant, homes
And those who know me know I’m solely dedicated
To what I’ve put my faith in, but do I know when to say quit?
Sometimes I think of me as older and rapping
Like maybe forty and married and telling stories to bratty
Annoying 4-year-olds, over cold leftovers and asking:
“Should I have put the pen down and pretended I’m happy?”
Nahh, this is what I love to do, you shun me? I won’t fuck with you
These fuckers in their 20’s are bumping nothing like my fucking tunes
“What’s with you?” Maybe I don’t give a fuck what others do
Because I love my fucking crew and all I need’s a trusty few
Thanks Support Tha Underground, UOT, and Diezel
All my Followers and Likes, Heath and Mo, my people
For keeping me a free-flowing breathing focused freakshow
I do this cuz I fucking love it, even though these scenes don’t know
Track Name: C-Ville Replay
[Chorus]
No I ain’t DC, but DC made me
I grew up in MD, but strayed from the lady
Now I claim C-Ville, but C-Ville’s shaky
So I don’t know where the fuck I’m coming from lately
DC, to Bmore, to VA, now relay
We need some resources, come on, now replay

[Verse 1]
I used to wanna move down to Charleston, SC
But what I had going down there was like “Forget Tisse”
So I let them Second Sunday citizens forget me
And I relocated down to VA, now I’m neck-deep
In vanity plates, dammit why can’t I behave
Like all them DMB fans who I bet cram UVA?
But I’m a fan of this place, I feel I stand in my space
I’ve been planning to keep hammering jams, planning to play
But I do work son, fucking two for one
And I gotta be honest with y’all, the loops more fun
With the spitten bars, but these restaurants’ food’s so YUM
Stomach’s hung’ring for another fucking loop, more DRUMS
I’m not a college kid, I’m not a socialite
I’ve thought a lot of shit that shoulda kept me woke at night
But I guess I’ve got a home now that keeps me cozy, right?
I gotta get my hometown down with these vocals, aiight?

[Verse 2]
I’m aware that I’m new to the area, what of it?
I never said that I’m above it, never said I run shit
I’m having fun, shit, this is what I love, spit-
-ting something just to bump when I run to get some grub quick
Is this an anthem? Maybe if the fandom
Of random enchanted chants would get their hands up
This isn’t standup and I’m not a band, punk
But I’m coming up in the stands to rock the land, WHAT
Astounding like the Blue Ridge Mountains when I do this
Bootleg, music, I don’t have to prove shit
To clueless, humans, doing what they do
You do you, and I’ll do me, so fluid how I spew scripts
The awfullest case of the loggerhea ever seen
Medically there’s definitely never been amphetamines
That get a psyche parallel to where my level’s said to be
Yessiree, you ever need your inner ear hit, get at me

[Verse 3]
You bet I’m in the center of the Lovers’ state, what up
Nothing’s coming from the gutter cuz I’m coming from the suburbs
But that doesn’t mean that I’ve never had my money troubles fucker
No I’ve never been a thug, but why you gotta be so butthurt?
Unearth the history, ponder the mystery
How did I go from Paleontologist to ripping beats?
This is Tisse, just a little kid with vivid dreams
Grown up in an adult’s body but still a fickle freak
I jumped to C-Ville so quick I didn’t get to breathe
I’ve been here for a few months now and I still got shit to see
I don’t make a lot of friends, I don’t make drinking memories
So this is what I’ve got ‘til the end, its what music meant to me
And it’s a shame that hip-hop has got a bad rap
Napping in this village just to get up, then its back’s stabbed
The people neglect it and artists just accept it as
The facts of where they’re at, so here’s Matt to get this back on track