Weaponized Incompetence, by Unskilled Labor (2024)

1.

once you realize you've been lied to for your whole lifeit really makes you reevaluate a lotwhen you see your bones boil in the brothyou tend to metacognate on your automatic thoughtsborn as a rat, i graduated to a dogchoked on the smog, chronic irritation gratesevery pain digs a pock, popcorn lung brainnow i'm clappin out the chalk dust, i am not the man in the boxi fortune shoot to people that i hope existyou say i'm preaching to the choir but not everybody knows this sh*t!go betwixt the worlds scoping slots where the token fithalf step back when the cobra hisshead like my throat's on fallopian, coping in unhealthy waystrying to live below my means but sh*t only gets ever more dystopianf*ck a simp, welcome to the symposiummy existence is a question that answers itself with more questionsand i'm getting bored of guessingi'm sick of taking tests, i'll be resting in the back of the classwake me up when there's more to the lesson

2.

all my friends gotta come to work sickgotta come to work sickgotta come to work sick, all myall my friends gotta come to work sickgotta come to work sickain't that some sh*t?inhabitable digs, steady meals, and perhaps a peta vehicle with insurance in case of accidents and maybe one hobbytake all of these expenses and deduct them from your checkis there anything you haven't spent?168 hours in a weekroughly 96 you're at work or asleep, that is time theftand don't forget, you're here foreveryeah i work for a living, but it's only because i haven't died yetnow, if you work for a corporation that makes, say, 58 million a dayand you get minimum wageyour labor makes an impact that's measurably worth many multiples of what you're being paidit's no wonder all my friends gotta come to work sickthey gotta come to work sick, what the f*ck??even i gotta come to work sick, what the f*ck is this sh*t??man, what the f*ck is a retirement? i ain't buying iti'm a legend in my mind and a product in my environmentyou can see why it's no comfort to methat we are literally 1% less f*cked if Biden winspimp myself to the system, heart of gold on my sleeveso the fact that i'm nobody is my only mystiqueand if you think i'm trying to say you ain't as holy as memaybe you ain't as meek as Jehovah told me you'd beyou think a moneyless society is only a dreamsame time, you're being ground down by your lowly routinethat sounds a little Stockholm syndrome-y to mei'll keep dreaming until you and all my homies are freei own fewer pairs of pants than i have holes in my teeththese cobras smell the money, i wish em luck noticing meyou know it's elitei rap for broke motherf*ckers one missed check away from begging for some dough in the streetsbecauseall my friends gotta come to work sickgotta come to work sickgotta come to work sick, all myall my friends gotta come to work sickgotta come to work sickain't that some sh*t?

3.

my essence bleeds into the grooveselector never grew past the years of reading empty roomsmy drug is loaded with the tunes, evil jujuthe king moon lit a day in the car, made it gruesome and strangei've been back on the wonky as of latesniff what lingers of some vaporwave from my earliest daysall that borrowed nostalgia that shaped my tastehas turned to real nostalgia for a time in my life when sh*t really still wasn't that greatwhen my DAW was a virgin to goose-neck EQsand the Yeti i'd later paint gold spaghettified the hiss of the roomi patiently plotted, thoughts consumedi thought, "soon i'll get that golden opportunity to stick it to you"do unto others what you'd have them do unto youthat's the golden rule, but i don't think you can do what i doyour alchemy is useless, i've been minting gold doubloonsyour gold standard is a stratosphere i've passed, the moon's in rear view(forsooth) my earliest memories are of melodiesgreat-grandma's corpse shoulder to shoulder with Come Away With Megrunge and prog, important LPs my father gave to mevillains, monks, and impossible kids who had a way with speechmaking beats for way beneath cheapi'd chop my flavor of the week and bake it 'til the glaze gave it a sheenso though an ugly mug emerged from the gaping maw of the kilnit still breathed just the same as you and me, but with a labored wheezewhat to say but c'est la vie?i'm the beast this business bred, ain't that a kick in the head?now the email trails lead right to the maître d'i sip the venom and spit it back through a sock, that's just been my way of making peacei got them soundbinge fashion tips, beanie with a denim jacket in the boothno coincidence every album's been a classicif i die, use em as cover art like John Lennon's glassesstill might hit y'all with a suit like i invented rappingi've always loved noisy musicand i'm aware of the irony that headache inducing sh*t instils a peaceful calm inside of memaybe it was my childhood environmentbut there's something bout a lack of utter chaos i find very disquietingso, look at me nowi'll give you the tools and you figure it outyou should be able to tell from the way that i write that i don't do this sh*t for the cloutmic in the grip and i'm singing it loud, how they twist when i shoutcroc in the moat and it's singled you outdare you to look in its eye and tell me what it's thinking aboutera imperialschnoz in your biz, they call me Cyranosteer with a knee while i'm scribbling materialinking an empire, i'm a tier above Sand i fear the impression you get is a geekthat may be something i happen to bebut man, i love this sh*t, and i'm f*cking nice, so just be happy for me

4.

"𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘺'𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘴. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴, 𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴."i bunked in Guatemala City, living where the upper crust didcuz the capital is where the money runsmoved from that condo to a small village, and after about a monthit turned out all my old neighbors got indicted for political corruptionit'd make you sick to your stomachto know exactly how viciously this little country has been f*cked withif the US government has interests to protectthen the suffering of indigenous people is just a consequence of functionso lookin 1945, the Guatemalan people finally got to elect a democratic leaderand he was succeeded by a man who passed a big decreeto reclaim the land back from the UFCO, who you know as Chiquita2% of owners owned three quarters of the landand the plan was to give it back to the common manbut the secretary of state and the director of the CIAconvinced President Eisenhower there was just no way that this could standso the US backed a coupand they installed a regime the likes of which Latin America had never seendissenters disappeared, tongues were severed out of mouthsbodies dropped from helicopters onto panic-stricken crowdsand now, i feel like it's a story that i have to tellfor everyone i met whose first language is Kaqchikelfor all the martyrs these assassins killed for profitfor the Mayans who stared fascism in the face and fought itfor Atitlán, all the little surrounding townswho stood up in their power and drove the crooked cops outand took to the streets to keep the elite from stealing their electionsto make a better world for their present and future brethrencommunist principles gave these people a dreamand the US backed a genocide all in the name of greedand not just greed, but to keep the resources away from the massesto starve the working class for the enrichment of the fascistsand here's something that's really f*cked100,000 civilians in 35 years murdered in cold bloodand most of the land that coup caused 7 decades of suffering to keep for Chiquitawas being used for nothing

5.

stars aligning, blink and you'll miss itdishes piled 5 miles high in the sink in the kitchencook my own flesh with a sinking suspicianthat all you little Caesars might think it's deliciousi'll be right back after a brief innervisiontoday's liberties are next week's split decisionsthe meek won't inherit jack sh*t with no frictionif i don't see you in hell first, i'll see you in prisoni could chug a fifth with 2 g's in my systemstill write a 16 and come clean with the dictionairy stee*ze but careen toward collisionwhen i'm rigged with this much C-4 i don't need your permission(thanks anyway) don't let the door hit yame and the missus look like Cousin It and a shorter Morticiabet you never learned in school that capitalism would turn your every day life into horrorcoredid ya?ohhh, what it mitzvah! everybody squeeze in together, baby lemme take a picturethe dealer's got 5 cowboysbut the pot's too big to ignore, might as well make it biggeroh, so you got a vice vicethey're taking everything you got, that's the nice pricesorry buddybut you might need a nightlight if you think they're ever gonna let you get your life rightfeel so clean like a money machinegot a 20 cent raise, can't say sh*t to me20 g's is the yearly salaryso you must be smoking dicks if you think you're getting a nickel out of mewe got a live one, can i get a witness?if not, then i'm told the court will provide oneyou could be dying in the streetand the government will hit you with that dead-eyed hoverhand side-hugthought i'd live to see COVID smolderbut the woe takes over as the grobe grows closerand in those rare moments when i'm stone cold soberi am thinking, "oh no, it is so f*cking over"what a weight we gotta shoulderyou know i gotta talk in broad strokes when i'm painted in a corneri'm Billy Shears snipping leaves off of cloverssquishing leeches licking leaks off of incognizant donors, and theyfeel so clean like a money machinegot a 20 cent raise, can't say sh*t to me20 g's is the yearly salaryso you must be smoking dicks if you think you're getting a nickel out of me

6.

when Snakes assembles a beat, he's a f*cking threat to your speakersi got your EKG beep resembling Topekaspittin heat and gettin dough like i cook-a da pizzagot these rappers in the library looking for Nietzschehand on the chrome, the other on my smartphoneone in your face, the other showing you my Venmo QR codeGroucho and Harpo, new meaning to Marx brosNixon-esque tricks only me and Tony Starks knowso dope i'm in the narcos' hair nowi share the values of the Car Phone Warehousethere ain't a wall that the bars won't tear downbring the noise like Public Enemy and MerzbowSuf and Snakes hold it down for Chicagoin the age of odds, mine are not lowi'm Joaquin Phoenix talking his sh*t on a talk showand i am still here calling your attention to the plot holesrap like i get paid by the lettermore words in two songs than your whole recordtone setter, died all my white flags checkeredthe flow's on ten, backpack Eddie VedderAss Creed when i hit em with the featheri been slippin in the clever sh*t, you didn't even get ittell the femmes please do not let me go oncan't believe i lived long enough to see Peggy go blondeit's not enough to be talentedwhen so many people lack the facility for critical analysisthat's how come you suck on the mic on some phallic sh*twhile Snakes and i buck the dogma like we're Calvinistthe vox peeping out the reverb that i drowned it inspeaking on my sournessknowing no one ever can evaluate it based on the rich context that it's compounded withbut i don't need you to tell me i'm valid

7.

and in my best behavior, i am really just like himwaist-high bullets, proofreader did a skimlisten to my echo, keep the window at a tintwolf the grey goo with a similar chagrintell you who i am and where i've beeni will tell you everything before i tell you what i thinkyour demerits are my sins, your embarrassment has made me very richnary an actuary in our midstcursing voids carries barely any riskbut the hisses make it scary in the mistdiss you like a 3, they made me hit you with the 6there is bile in the spit, praying all of you will miss me with the sh*tvicious with the wrath, but rapturous when it hitsvacuous with intermittent magic in my glyphstaciturn in practice, spark synapsis in a jiffin a world of flipped mattresses, i'm hazardouscome on the pod, Brentcome on the pod, Brentcome on the pod, Brentcome on the pod, Brentcome on the pod, Brentcome on the pod, Brenti'll go easy on youcome on the pod, Brentplease come on the pod, Brentcome on the pod, Brentplease, i'll go easy on youplease, i'll go easy on youplease come on the pod, Brentplease

8.

Time:if you're fascist, that's unfortunatewe're blasting at your coordinatesbreak statues like they're porcelainyour flag, we are torching itprison is what torture isthe SWAT protects the fortressestrespass tickets for the poor, that's what extortion isthey kill for land, call it war, get a medal and awardedanyone in the way gets disappeared and waterboardedlet's bulldoze Guantanamo and plant a bunch of rosesbefore i recorded this, the NSA recorded thisi'll die on my feet, i'll never bend to these contortionistswarm my hands with your precinct, flames are looking gorgeouswarfare asymmetrical, this is not proportionatenazi punks f*ck off, time to meet the coronerEiron:i will torch your covered wagonsscorch your mother's casketi warned you knuckledraggersi was born a f*ckin savagenumbskull fascists who conform to others' actions just for lack of direction will not be sparedi bring horrors you can't imaginethis is war, i came with gas to pour, it's havocand before i struck the matches, you realized this was more than just some rappingi'm the sword of Damocles that dangles over hoarding dragonscan of Raid that sprays the swarm, i'm making orphans of the maggotsleave your flag in tattersgot you f*ckers staggered by my statureline em up, you know this cannibal is famishedit's the Bash Brothers, me and Time toe taggin the fashDouble Dragonflying kick to a nazi's balls, bangers and mashtangle with us, that scrap is your lasti'm tapping the mana, kill your commander, we got trampleyou angered the packstrangle necks 'til they're angling backIDF taking sand napsyou can get popped like a can of Labatti stay cold like a Canada drafty'all can't handle the snapstone's throw is my plan of attackthe Shirley Jackson of rap, Flanagan wanna adaptgot a microphone to the hole in your throat, you know i'm sampling that

9.

i'm pickin' ticky tacky locksrap as hot as Paternoster lickspop the Macintosh open like a tackleboxi'm Dicky Bachman, got the castle rockin'hackin', coughin', noshin' on an apple bongox brawn, MandelbaumIzzy Izzy, hit the penny ante jackpotsticky wicket, jammy dodge a piggy fat blockMickey Mantle him and sprinkle little crack rocksshoulda made the whole damn cop out of the black boxone check could turn a rapper to a vagabondthe shock jockey, hockey mask and a cattle prodhaggle not with the capo rockin' battle scarsall these Dale Coopers call me Judy when the gavel knocklost paddles in the billabong, creek babbles onsidesaddle on the beast, Idolatress of Babylonshow the people what i got em gaggin' onshow em how a rat'll gnaw the paws off a rabid doglocked init's demands, not optionswrote this song at my job while clocked inget your damn hands out my pocketsi'm a psyop sent to make you think twice fore you drop sh*tlocked init's demands, not optionswrote this song at my job while clocked inget your damn hands out my pocketsUNSKILLED LABOR is the answer, your question is "what's poppin'?"i'm a lauded oddity, if i'm on it then follow meif you know me you're used to modesty, that's an insurance policyall of these rappers see me and wanna hop on a song with memoths drawn to the flicker and heatshoutout to everyone who's ever given me a feature for freeor listened to Cherry Creek and started believing in mebut i'm still mad doggin' y'all, i'm always eager to eati love these dudes in the scene, but they're gym leaders to mesee, i'm what you f*ckin' underground rappers all pretend to beyou need a feature killer? bitch, you better send for mei'm in the clouds above you clowns, you can't ascend to mei wrote Any Pronouns, you can't misgender medelusion is a cancerous tumori couldn't give a hoot about your little stamp of approvalso put the mic where my mouth is, let me do what i dobecause i see that you see the way i've been commanding a roomwhen i'm f*ckinlocked init's demands, not optionswrote this song at my job while clocked inget your damn hands out my pocketsi'm a psyop sent to make you think twice fore you drop sh*tlocked init's demands, not optionswrote this song at my job while clocked inget your damn hands out my pocketsUNSKILLED LABOR is the answer, your question is "what's poppin'?"

10.

apoplectic epithets, flexible metal epauletteslecture sentiments conjectural but never second-guessedfigureheads begat the figureheads begat the figureheadsuntil a desolate, skeletal stretch is all that's left of itblood and bone and bile on his breath, eau de toilette for the wretchedtoil the death of men who lech after the messagesfirst they came for the poor and the queersmy thought intrusions transformed into more than just fearsthe great beasts rolled through the streetsthe synchronized stomping of feet, the grinding of meatweep for the starving of metelevision never turns off, through it he screamssnarling, wheezing, gasping, i can feel his breath on my cheekwe paid exorbitant prices for shiny tracking devicesbut more than even our meals, it put the plastic inside uswe thought that passion would guide us, ended up flaccid and lifelessyou'll die before the second step down the path of the righteousi tell myself, "this is fine," as i bleed from the gumsone day i might believe it if i just repeat it enoughi feel the throbbing pang of grief growing deep in my gutnow that we're f*cked, it almost feels like a relief that it's doneon the set he spews, then to cap off all of the pageantryhe suffers a heart attack and collapses in agonyanother one just like him wanders into the foldsteps over the body, the teleprompter continues to roll

11.

general malaise, it's palpable in the facesDenver, Coloradoit's 45 and smells like a forest firerescheduled digital court datethe snow shuts the roads downi'm in work attireJamie tells me that we beat the casei burrow under the new digseye the geometry of the catacombsthe dents and scratches make the rich neighbors nervousrubbernecks tend to crack a bonethey can stare but i'm impenetrableall my days are major serviceexistential threats live in the corner of my eyebehind me, a scarecrow in continuous mimeit's a wonderful life, but it's the strenuous kindyou ever get the feeling something or someone in you is lying?i'm told it was an amazing year for the richstatic in my eyes and i'm hearing the hisswhat year is this?i'm on Schenectady timedeath of the body almost always follows the death of the mindi clawthey wanna pull me under, i'm an offer to the fogput the chains on me, then they offer me the sawput the stains on me, i'm a mark for the lawi clawit's a fog like the world is rendering before meBoulder, ColoradoSilent Hill a la Thomas Kinkadenothing exists outside a very narrow field of visionmaybe nothing even exists outside the confines of my brainAll Eternals Deck, no shufflei feel troublespirits bat the windows of my steel shuttlei'm oblivioni become a stain on the very chair i'm sitting incease to be before i hear the screeching of the Michelinlast conscious thought, "how reedy is my instrument"permanently missing, slipped in when the sky crackedhijacked and shanghaied, no trace when the mist liftthis is how i disappeared completely in an instant

12.

it never really mattered too much to meor maybe it did, but i would never let them seeall that really matters is if you and i are chillgirl, that's all that really matters to mei'm a go-getter, folding under no pressurenever let my thoughts grow mold like old leatheri'm freshnot to sound so competitive, but i can't help but think everything you ever wrote i coulda wrote betteri'm Heidecker's tetheryou're a shooter, i'm a bisecterme, a mic, and a beat, that's the trifectamy evolution was defective, still left me vaguely simianthis is highly intelligent music for idiotsthey say Unskilled Labor makes relatable sh*tbut i ain't special just for harboring a hate for the richexplain to me this:how much collective pain are we in that just hearing me say i'm broke as f*ck majorly hits?i stress a need for upheaval, i'm not feeding my egoeven Marx would admit you don't have to read him to see this is evilsee that white smoke creeping past the peak of the steeple?it's gonna be a wild week for my social media peoplei'm David Lynchrazor wit, great with a scripti just can't find anyone who will pay me to make this sh*tcan't talk about how i feel unless i make it a bitimagine if i got a low taper fade and slit my wristsi'm a rap jock, this is ad hoc smack talkyou lapdogs don't even know yourselves, i'm Matlock draining mad rocksi'm an infinity pool, you're a ball pit at DashConi'm Waylon J, keep living like this, ain't gonna last longthere was magic in that first album, divine light in the secondthis one, i dunno, i'll decide in the editthe vibe is electric, my enhancements cyberneticlife is tragic but we laugh in hindsight like 9/11see, magic is lies and deception, timing and deftnessbut you can't fake my line of progressionnot without the kind of money you would find in a pensioni'll probly catch plant allegations in my prime and it'll cure my depressionyou are 6, i am 7, you might die a confectioni take big bites, my pie in the sky is a crescenti told you me and Snakes make a worthwhile investmenti cartwheel on the tightrope of style and messagei been a co*cky pessimist since Dockey and i were kids10 years putting in work and baby, i am legiti hope you'll love me even when the curtain risesand you find that underneath my cold exterior, i'm kind of a dick

13.

i'm Yaeji with the hammer, Joanna with the sickleAnne Bonny with the cannon, and i'm Samus with the missilebut mechanical is fickle, size mattersand from where i'm standing, you look a little finch brandishing a thistlei'll whip Tim Pool's ass, take a sh*t in his hatused to come home and record what i'd written in classnow i come home and record what i've written at workeverything will go smoothly if i just stick to the planhop out the van, i'm smoking mids and watching Inkmastermight cook some dinner but it just fills up the sink faster8 hour shift, don't ask if i wanna link afterSnakes' breakbeats bout to turn me to the PinkPantherhome stu Kame House, make a nazi collywobblyfull time rapper, but i moonlight as your mom's Hitachithe beat is butter sauce, toss it on some mahi mahistill to nervous to tell the doctor that i'm Pagliaccidrop me in the booth and imma catch a body problycall your boss and tell him, "suck my dick," cuz i will not be shoppingcall your boss and tell him, "cut the sh*t, this job is not a hobby""juice that f*cking check a little bit or we will all be walking"money challenged but the attitude is majoryou want this kind of skill, you have to do the laboryou can't buy your freedom, you might have to use the sabreway things are going, it might be sooner rather than latereconomy's for sh*t, yeah, we might pull a Turnstilepost an ad under a hit tweet if it's worthwhilewading through the mishegoss, gotta pop an Ativandoing discourse but TikTok's got me shadowbannedya'll talk broken ground, impactlaughablei know better writers who still know to keep it affablemaybe that kind of ego's all it takes to really blowbut it's lonely at the top, so if you see me, say hello