From The Ashes

by Alonso Majikal

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about

"From The Ashes" is a purist Hip Hop album with no "fill in" tracks. Straight to the point, the album offers music with concept, lyrical ability and most importantly, SOUL. Completely produced, performed and recorded/mixed by Alonso Majikal, the sound and feel of the album is consistent and unique. There is an obvious 90s-style presence to this music, however it is more of an embracing, rather than a recreation, of the roots by which it was influenced. Definitely one for the playlist.

credits

released January 1, 2015

I’d like to thank the artists on this album. Eduaz, Narrator MC, Andre D’Soul, AbyCee and OneSixth (1/6), for taking the time to write and drop on my album.

Thanks to G.M Sound Studios where the album was mastered by my old friend Brendan Lehane (Lehanebrendan@gmail.com). Big thanks to my boy William Torres, I could not be more honoured to have you photography and artwork as my cover/booklet. All of my love to my one of kind wife, for her support and giving me the space to do what I love. Lastly, I’d like to thank GOD for reasons that are between him and me.

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Alonso Majikal Melbourne, Australia

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Track Name: From The Ashes (Intro)
Yo, mic check/ from the ashes/ from the ashes of this rap shit/ kicking it how it’s supposed to be man/ Yeah, I was raise on this shit, so don’t wonder why I sound like this.
Track Name: Que Esta Pasando?
Yo, I know my style of music’s dead coz the 90s have gone and drifted/ Vanished into the air like the winds that carry the missing/ I aint embarrassed to say that I missed it but the whole narrative shifted, into something that’s different, something that’s unrealistic/ Have it all without going the distance and have fortunes in business and cars in an instance/ A wife, crib, even a mistress/ Just have it all, be it all, even see it all, and grabbing all that shit with interest/ I heard a young sucker say that he wished for riches through lottery tickets, so everyday could be a Christmas/ And yet he does nothing to change/ The fool’s stuck in the same kitchen, dreaming of fame while he’s fucken scrubbing dishes/ That doesn’t make any sense coz fate always gotta depend on decisions and in the end, YOU EITHER PLAY YOUR HAND OR PLAY THE VICTIM/ another cog in the old system that can’t function outside of a prison.

(Cuts)
“I do it because I want to, not to staying in the game”/ “Not to stay in the game”/ “I do it because I want”/ “I do it because I want to”/ “Fuck the fame”

Y que paso con esta mierda, tanto juego de egos, tanto hueon que aparenta, aqui/ mierda que inventan, y , a Los 40 de la casa de mama no pueden salir/ y otros que vienen llegando, prendieron la tele y hoy quieren representarlo/ hablando de autos de putas de tetas, posando pensando mas en la foto que en la libreta/ y dime , que esta pasando?/ no Es que vivan en un sueno, Es que viven sonando/ y a donde vamos? si otros estan ensuciando lo que dejamos, rimas ya no estan pasando por donde pasamos/ cegados por lo artificial, atormentados por no tener lo material, ni Lo primordial/ atados entorno a su consumo, yo solo escribo, esquivo, fumo y fluyo bro.
Track Name: Dear Journal
(Hook) x2
Dear journal, I don’t know why we act this way/ I see the whole world stressing like its judgment day/ coz if you got kids, better watch out where they play/ and if your grown now, better watch out what you say

Some people still call me a dreamer/ it seems to me I keep talking about this a lot more than I need ta, make moves to see the, end product produced/ since back in the days of school I’ve been refining the skills that I’m able to use/ when the term “freestyles” meant to spit bars from the top, and Majikal would handle beats while the cipher kicked off/ in came the emcees to see who had mastered the craft/ cos it wasn’t enough to stay on beat so a battle would start/ those were the old days, we were young and had now worries/ now’s a different story, seems to me that we’re always in a hurry/ chasing time to try get money/ finding the right balance in life, time wise and making it into something/ this aint a negative though yo/ it’s a reflection at best for you to get the concept of a mindset/ of a life lead and a rhyme pad/ where the lines bleed what my heart felt/ and my mind set, turning the negative into a positive yo.

(Hook) x2
Yeah, it’s been mad years of anticipating/ waiting, debating on when to make it, I feel like I’ve been saying the shit for ages. No more procrastinating. I’m solely focused on burning holes in these open pages. Two kids kick a freestyle for the entertainment/ having the same dream and both having the same aiming/ sharing the same feed when both of us needed a payment and weed when we’re aching and we needed to reach an escapement/ night falls I’d be full flowing and wake the neighbours/ I can’t explain how a day painting a freight train changed me/ gave me a brain framed at saving and maintaining a game plagued where the greats fade coz of the haters/ Who wanna be us? Cos now where two freaks on the speakers/ perform miracles like oil leaking from portraits of Jesus/ and all lyrical, like all forms of informative pieces and fuck the cynical, cos all those whores are beneath us/ man we’ve been doing this since we had checker plate laces and when to bed thinking “how I want to be famous” and rock stages/ with more lights than a spaceship but life’s always rearranging.
Track Name: Disculpame
I’m hanging for success, but I feel I’m losing my chances/ I could’ve used a mentor to show me ropes and the answers/ instead I turned to music so I admired the gangsters/ of sex, power and breath, all to make an advancement/ my mind infected with irreversible cancers/ of fantasise and memories, all types of negatives/ I carry with me, like every day when I’m at this monotonous madness/ sometimes I don’t feel I fit in/ and that’s a problem I think I got as a kid/ grabbing on puzzles to solve them not knowing where to begin/ but I’m working on it though/ and I bet it shows/ SOMESTIMES I JUST DONT REGISTER, THATS WHY I CANT KEEP A FLOAT/ I’m trying to feed a home/ it’s not me trying to be alone/ you seem to only want for me to call/ I get defensive even though I know it’s reasonable for me to reach the phone, and let you know/
(Hook x2)
That just in case I never get a chance to say it, I’m saying it now/ I know we’re fighting coz I’m never around/ that’s just in case I never get to say it (disculpame)

Too young and foolish to know just where it started/ was blind and mislead, path was all departed/ I kept it G though/ at least that’s what it felt like/ until I crashed and burnt/ this could’ve been the end but no/ forgiving the bad in me, forgive the stolen memories/ I do it just for us now/ also I know its hard/ we break up and make up/ how do you still stand beside me?
(Hook) x2
Track Name: Change Stuck
I had often fantasized about having a life/ with a big block of land, with a bunch of kids playing outside/ a 1963 impala my ride, with the chrome plated toggle switches that you flick for adjusting the height/ and even though that life existed inside of my mind/ I felt my destiny was there and it was just a matter of time/ and all I had to do was sit back, wait and recline/ just a foolish kid, thinking the whole world could be mine/ but I soon learnt the dangers of making assumptions/ thinking that something would function and then it turns into nothing/ being so fucken stubborn and not moving or budging/ instead of loosing something to make room for some sort of improvement/ I made changing not up for discussion (right)/ I’ve been too long in my ways I aint gonna take advise nor can I hack making the sacrifice of playing it nice/ just to turn and have my back stabbed with a knife
(Chorus) x2
I’m change stuck/ I’m changing no more/ more more more again

I aint making no changes/ I love sampling shit/ trying arrangements, same crate at the record store, way down at the train station/ the Wax Museum, a small room, plenty of flavours/ and you can see, that finding a record is sacred/ when I was broke and I could afford keyboards to play with/ I took the end of songs, looped them and making the bass fit/ and then fucken rap the shit out of them all day/ literal statement/ shiiiiit and look at me now/ it takes a few crews to do what I do solo/ with obscuring the truth for the good of a promo/ between the news and these fools I feel used and abused/ I never thought about myself as a man with a SUIT, but if a had to choose/ I’d probably choose DIAMONDS and jewels/ and leave that Club shit for those singles who wear timberland boots/ cos I’ve always been a SPADE man, working and paying dues.
(Chorus) x2
Hey yo this is Alonso Majikal/ I got a message for anybody out there who feels they got a talent, feel they have a passion but they’re scared, they got a fear/ I’m here to tell you, just follow it/ just do what you’re good/ coz if you don’t, the only person you’re betraying is yourself/ you know what I mean? Yeah!
Track Name: The Race
Its like same shit but a different day/ dragging my ass out of bed, packing my lunch that I made from yesterdays dinner plate/ getting to work and I feel worse coz I’m late and my boss is onto my case/ busting my balls like a pool break/ I need to make moves that include having my dues payed and a few rules that improve my chances of turning a new page/ my shift is through but I spew it’s only been Tuesday, so my temper just blew like a can of flammable butane/ I’m feeling time get shorter, feel upside down in a tank of water, escaping a straight jacket, in order to put clothes on my daughter/or maybe I order get a new job to support her instead of following orders/ coz I’m a desperate man/ jumping boarders and hoping onto a land, were all is supposed to be grand but all is mostly a scam/ but if I could just follow the plan/ it could be all over I just hope for the chance
(Hook) x2
I feel my life is a race/ right now I feel like the floor’s made of a clock’s face and I’m chained to the 12 and I can see the hands as they, pass from a 7 to 8/ have to brace for the pain coz those hands are made from a razor blade
I pull my sleeves up, slap chalk on my hands like a dead lifter, but the fucken weight of the world is too great/ I need change/ or at least I need a decent pay raise like I asylum seekers that’s needing their VISAs/ and if indeed leaving this cage means I need to succeed, needless to say, I need less needs for fleeing this cage/ cos these days I feel weak at the knees praying, like demons are leaning in erasing my dreams as I say them/ I here trying exceed, heaving and trying to achieve/ in need positive leads to proceed confidently/ so my competency ultimately would leave me living at least moderately, if not, comfortably/ but have you ever felt life was a race?/ a rollercoaster without the holster or arm brace/ feel like a chump every time you do what your boss says/ you can’t afford to be pumping breaks in this car chase/ you know what I’m saying when I say
Track Name: First Time I Met Ya
The first time I meet ya was at a party and I couldn't wait to get ya/ I heard of ways that you infect the mind and body of all the men that test ya/ they try to take it too fast and they always end up messed up/ shiiit/ and I had gone through all those muthafucken lectures, consequences of my actions if I disrespect ya/ coz I had heard of men that put their tongue on your golden completion and immediately addiction set/ and that's despite their pay or their intellect/ any man you intercept falls a victim to your breath enough to make decisions that they regret/ especially if I'm longing to connect and I'm hanging for that long neck/ a couple years ago it wasn't how it went/ I'd try to play it cool and pace myself but end up on the rocks instead/ next thing you know I'm tripping off my fucken head/ I'm in my room watching the room spinning right from bed.

(Hook) x2
Why don't you just drink today/ and have all your problems fade/ why don't you just smoke this J and grow wings to fly away

I had heard the reputation of a Mary Jane/ a woman who got fame soothing men who be in constant pain/ I got the hook up from my man Ranga, and he explained that she alters mind frames/ fuck it just roll a three paper joint, I'll be the first to bat up, and if that worth don't add up, like calculators with corrupted data/ I'll give the chick the flick like it don't matter/ coz nothing makes me gladder than moving on when chick go n choose to act up/ and like an improvising actor, I winged it and went with it but nothing could prepare me for not winning/ I start smoking, my heart beat slowing, I start moving in slow motion like I'm floating on top of a boat/ but in the vastness of the ocean I don't feel alone no more or feel I need to mask emotions/ coz this chick has got me so hopeless I can't focus and chicks whenever I try to hold smoke in
Track Name: Vine Street
Back in the days, I lived in Vine Court off Vine Street/ in the littered streets of Braybrook, the 3019/ a weatherboard home painted in off whites and if you stood and looked straight at it, you could tell it slanted to the right/ my house was crowded so I’m outside all the time, my neighbours kids are looking at me through the cracks of their venetian blinds/ and so one day I call one out to ride his bike, his clothes reeked of cigarette smoke/ a skinny kid with blue eyes/ and every now-and-then he’d sneak a smoke from his house/ id take it round the corner, light it, try blow rings from my mouth/ so while we chill I’d ask him why his mother never had doubts about her pack of cigarettes and she may have miscount/ you see, his mother drank a lot/ she’d get pissed and start ranting and raving out on the streets, embarrassing her kids/ and she’d be fighting with their old man till I’d get knocks at the door/ can I sleep over?/ I’d look at him and say sure.

(Hook) x2
And it’s like parents just aint worth it no more/ I could hear the noises of our neighbours scream, while we’re sleeping/ and you could tell me man I’d keep a secret/ I’ll keep it closer than my heart beats inside me living off vine street.

(Cuts)
“drugs by the selection”/”some use pipes, others use injections”

And as the bus pulls up, I hop off and run into my man/ my boy Plazma, got his name from squirting cans/ I got along with him coz being the same fan of hip hop meant overseeing a man’s tan/ and he invites me to change plans/ it’s all good brother lets kick back, spin records and play tracks/ smoke some weed from the same sack or even have a scratch/ but those belt turntables make the wax lag/ I stop and think of the situation at hand when Plaz tells me that the house got raided by cops in a dibbie van/ his grandmother, oblivious to the scam, was scared stuck in a trance like sand caught in a hour glass/ just a suburb in the skirts of the city/ step outside the house, look across the street and feel pity/ when at the same time I see the neighbour out with a ciggy/ 10 year old getting high in the fumes of graffiti.

(Hook) x2

(Cuts)
“drugs by the selection”/”some use pipes, others use injections”/ “time was nothing to us, we were just kids”.
Track Name: When A Fan Becomes The Man
(Hook) x2
When a fan becomes the man/ and people worship land they walk on and wished it was them signing the autograph/ how does it happen so fast or was it all part of a plan that began the moment it met with the right chance.

Where do I begin?/ sitting out here thinking/ sipping on beer drinking while tripping about existence/ visioning higher living/ scribbling algorithms for figuring out a system and wriggling out this prison/ but where do I begin?/ I ask myself again to make decisions, and formulate a way to start a business/ and even though it might be pain staking/ I’d turn the world into a slaughter house if it means bringing home the bacon/ cos dreaming of my fate and the same as trying to make it/ and trying to make it’s enough to leave me in a stressed relation/ this life I’m in wont SUIT, in need and alteration/ or at least some patience when I’m static like an AM station/ I’m daydreaming, thinking about the scene and tour routes and fans screaming/ tripping on how I flip my words out and then you see me/ featured in magazines and fold outs/ and all believe me coz I be leaving no doubt!

(Hook) x2

When a fan becomes the man/ and a man he’s a fan of comes up to thank him for rocking the fucken jam/ it’s got me bugging mad/ cos I remember busting raps with the brush in hand, combing through the flow so I could make waves like Puffy had/ eyes tear up like mace, memories flooding back/ first time I heard Outcast in my grandmothers flat, “I got five one it”/ had me thinking what the fuck was that/ rapping about dubs before I had a nut in my fucken sack/ now I’m hitting different stages all across the land/ walking into stores and seeing our releases on the stands/ linking up with like-minded mic controllers who understand and do this the regardless of hate, just like my brother Bangs/ this love and passion for lushes samples and drums that smack/ produce food for thought, that settle the mental hunger pangs/ it a must I rap about something that matter for a younger fan, so maybe I’ll be in the crowd the day that he becomes the man.
Track Name: Inside My Coffin
(Priest)
Lord Jesus Christ, grant that our brother may sleep here in peace/ until you awaken him to glory/ for you are the resurrection and the light/ then he will see you face to face/ and in your light will see light/ and know the splendour of God/ for you live and reign forever and ever/ Amen.

If this were my last day on earth I wouldn’t need my money/ it’s not like I won’t make the afterlife if I forget to bring my wallet/ just bring the Jonny Red so you can pop it in my coffin/ maybe a couple stems, when in heaven I could puff them/ I’d ask my wife for the wedding ring I gave her so I could take it with me/ that way you’d be my girl forever/ my life insurance means that you’d be set up, so when the days get leather, you’ll be sunny in the greyest weather/ and while I’m chilling there relaxing, I’d like to be holding my little girl’s first pair of Nike air maxes/ a pair of Chuck Taylors for me/ a set of Dickie pants with a cuff and a crease, one of my stater jackets/ so when I’m dead and deceased, give me a pen and some sheets/ a couple of beats so my lyrics accompany me/ an I’ll be riding passenger in your seat, when you’re daydreaming and cruising the streets/ know-what-I-mean?

(Hook) x2
Death comes to us all, like the final seconds of songs/ but there’ll be other tracks to play one/ so drink some liquor if you want to live long/ and pour some out on the floor/ if you got people you wished they won’t gone

The way I view the world, nobody has a fallacy/ every human being on this planet had beliefs/ so just remember in the coffin it aint me/ it’s the body of a person reconnected with the galaxies/ coz whether you see or intercept it spiritually, one way or other you leave/ there aint no plan B/ coz everybody that’s been has seemed to want to deceive death but never got away with it clean/ now let me portrait the scene, at the time of my death Id either be tortured and sent to a bottomless depth/ or beamed up to receive heavenly breath/ and to never again feel the regret with the people I’ve met/ I’m getting older now like video cassettes/ plus there’s so much bullshit out there I might disconnect the internet/ I wait for intellect to intercept/ but I guess we’re doomed to consume and just hope there aint no incidents.

(Hook) x2

Yeah, death comes to us all/ but there’ll be other tracks/ other tracks to play on
Yeah/ this song is dedicated to mister Boba/ Bobadilla/ Dedicated to Eddie/ Erica’s family you-know-what-I-mean/ sending my love to them/ peace/ I’m out.