BUNKS (2013 Tour Compilation)


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The Message 00:51
I came with a message, I hope you accept it, I’ll tell you directly, that my life’s been crazy, I’ve been through addictions, I’ve been through the hustle, I’ve been so conflicted, still daily I struggle, The debt has piled up, the rent is past due, I’m stuck with no end, so what should I do? I bury my feelings, I bitch to this paper, I hold my son close and exhale the vapors, Cause smoke gets me by, I don’t question why, I stick to these rhymes till the day that I die, These beats, they define, the flows that I ride, I gave it my all, kept opened my mind, If I had it, I shared it and suffered the costs, Been broke my whole life and still I’m the boss, You want to test me, I’ll hand you the loss, The BUNKS are my clan, they come when I call, One Mic is the dream, I’ll never let fall, So many words, I can’t catch them all, Embrace all the music like gloves to a ball, Keep open the field, avoid all the traps, Societies collapse, All fiends relapse, The stocks they crash, Depression attacks, History repeats, I’m sticking to that, And that’s a wrap…
Grab the mic, start a revolution, Let me start this essay by jumping to conclusions, You love your TV, it fills you with delusions, You in the game to win but over half of ya’ll are losing, It’s day to day life that I’m trying to improve, It’s the simple things that matter, small steps, big moves, The needle to the record, feel the flow with the groove, This is soul rebel music, am I playing your tune? I’ve been paying my dues, while I’m watching ya’ll drop, Ya’ll been missing the clues, while you’re racing to the top, Fifteen minutes of fame, change your name for everything, Then fall off the map, who was that?! This is soul rebel music, are we playing your tune? Its J.Smo and J.Gro with one mic, breaking through, Put the needle to the record feel the BUNKS as we the groove, Match the rhymes with the music, see the message make you move. The name’s J.Gro and for duty I’m reporting, Tired of the lying and the faking and distorting, The bullshit news and its biased point of views, Those that try to tell us what to say and what to do, Fit in the mold and forget paying dues, You might could be someone if you wear the right shoes, I’d run myself through if you even had a clue, You can be the Big Lebowski, I’m just trying to be the dude, You ain’t got to make a mil to be good at what you do, Like a kid from the hills, you can’t change your point of view, White boy with the soul make you feel it in your bones, Rebel to the core changing music on our own, Put the needle to the record like the wheat to the stone, It just takes you higher when you get it homegrown, We’re playing your song, feel your body start to groove, Its time to take a stand, see the message, make your move. Forget the 9 to 5s, I-9s, and 1040s, Forget the misdemeanor citations, I can’t afford it, All the pain in the world, I can’t help but absorb it, Unleash it to the planet, this mission, won’t abort it, My anti-drug to cable is fluffy and sticky, All these images are sickly and they flashing aplenty, Repetition engraved, superstitions enflamed, While they numb you to the grave, I’m filling with rage, Filling with rage, as I’m filling this page, Pour the gas on the fire and I feel the decay, All the people who say, that they pray for a change, Day after day seem to lose they way, But call me Mr. Automatic when it comes to wreaking havoc, Put pen to the paper and commence to let ‘em have it, Eight years of paying dues, I refuse to subdue, When Smo’s got my back there’s no way I’ll lose.
Convoluted distributions make it past our third eye, The third try, you lost your charm, you paid the cost, but what’s the price? Was it worth your other life? Might have been broke, you were living right, Dreams fed to you from a screen, She’s too fat and he’s too mean, Match your reds and match your greens, Try this mauve, it looks so clean, Buy your boss a guillotine; you can live among this greed, Don’t you want it? Please succeed, 80s Babies did the deeds; CIA made them the fiends… From the powder to the rocks, from the sacks up in your socks, From the money to the safe, I feel your pain if you relate, Correlate experiences, settle up the differences, It’s all about the benjamins, no matter what the business is. It’s all about the benjamins, no matter what the business is, Evaluate your worth and cash it in for the dividends, Appraisers set the price, never notice any differences, They’ll sell you for the low. Instinct is what we think, Natural abilities to comprehend, Legislated through businessmen, Wall Street competing until highest price lands, Self-employment and free love will advance, Mass production of soul called life supports, Foreign imported destruction of empowerment, Relevance is key to success of intelligence, It’s all elementary, evidently It’s all about the benjamins, We all some type of businessmen, Call me Bill Gates, cause I never stack my paper thin, I’m in to win at any cost; no wonder fellas call me boss, Built this thing from sticks and stones ain’t no way I’ma take a loss, Sticks and stones may break my bones; they’ll never slow me down, I’ma keep my business growing as long as I’m around, Feel the BUNKS In Ya Trunk and you know it’s going down, This empire that we’re building is the talk of the town, Towns they talk, hens they squawk, If you bad for my business, then you best just take a walk, Make it real long off a short short pier, Only your momma won’t know that you ain’t here, But if you’re going to stay I can make you disappear, This place is up in Grundy, people ain’t seen in years, So when you’re making moves, better get it on the go, I’ll sell you at a high and take you for a low.
Gladiators 03:02
Far from the hills of Tennessee and straight into your home, I’m cursed to live my life like I was born in ancient Rome, To poor to be a prince, I got to scrap for what I own, In this dirt, in the heat, on the grind, I make these bones, From Beasties to the Lady and these BUNKS born in the 80s, Destined to be a gladiator since I was a baby, Hard-headed, thick-skinned, and just a little crazy, Got a thousand BUNKS behind me, we’re never going to fade, see? Cause we’re gladiators, send these haters to our coliseum, We’ll feed ‘em to the lions, it’s the last time that you’ll see ‘em, We’re gladiators walking tall, dust covers our feet, Gladiators, face to face you don’t want to meet up with these, Gladiators, cause you know we ain’t never scared, We are what we are cause these BUNKS ain’t never cared. Everday I’m taking shots, directly to my self-esteem, Feel the pressure building slowly killing drive to reach this dream, You need my time? I need that cream. One Mic Studios ain’t free, Pay them bills, pay that rent, buy them diapers, don’t you see? A working man, who works his plan, own the label, run the clan, Call the shots and make the suits, put their money in my hand, Independent, underground, unmatched noise is how we sound, Navigating through your system, feel us rumble then touchdown, Adapt to life, play these games, make these moves without a shame, Expect the worst and when it hits, be the first to turn the page, Be the first to flee the cage, spread your wings and fly away, Leave it all behind for something greater than a pile of change, Increase the pace, change of tastes, flavors fading with some haste, Its time for spices, BUNKS are nice kid…
Round and round we go, looking for people we know, No destination, just flow where the wind blows, Find a party in a field, now its time to buckle up, Let’s see who gets stuck, mud swallowing the truck, Is everybody drunk? I’m trying to find another beer, You got some liquor & punch? Well, bring it over here, Let’s hit the strip, circle Burger King, come back, Park and sit at Sonic while we bang these BUNK tracks, Who can bump the loudest? I hear ‘em down the street, Set up shop at Food Lion and let the bass compete, See the cops creeping, everybody disappears, Swerving thru these back roads like we’ve done it for years, I know you feel the tears when the tractors in the parking lot, The seniors about to go, let the others take our spot, Keep Manchester with us as we rise to the top, These Coffee flavored memories are why we won’t stop. Manchester, put your lighters up and ride to this beat, These Coffee flavored memories, they bring us to peace, The simple, small town life is underrated, you see? I been around the world and back and I belong in CC. From playgrounds to ball parks, Field day, hay rides, Tractor pulls, barbeque, We set the scene, eleven years, Hillsboro, stand up, Them Tigers on the court with us, Shooting hoops in the gravel dust, Staying outside from dawn till dusk, Coffee flavored memories are living with us, 127 headed west, taking Cajun to the lake, Check the trailer hitch and lights, we about to go fish, Pedal on two wheels, jump and make new hills, Cutting tracks in a field, watching ‘em turn hay into bails, Farming for they money how’s this little town lives, Garden filled with nature’s heart, Tire swing, brick chimney, patio, evergreens, Listen as the birds sing, This place, my soul will never leave. I can still smell game time fresh in the air, Hear the stands go wild, its been years since I been there, Homecoming near hysteria, And every dance was held in the cafeteria, Senior year came and went, then we moved on, I never will believe I’ve been gone this long, All my Red Raiders put your hands in the air, Gonna take a quick moment for the ones who ain’t here, Dusty E, a local legend, and a stand-up man, Left this earth too soon still it’s hard to comprehend, T.R. Newlin was a mentor to me, A gentle giant who always gave back to his community, His son, Kevin, also left too soon, An all American guy who’s memory lives on through, And though I don’t have time to list you all here, Coffee County’s in my heart always near and dear.
Lovesick 03:16
Superbad 03:36
I’ma soul rebel, with most my own devils, I keep it on the low, I stay here on the level, I’m not the first to talk, you know I keep it mellow, But you fuck with my fam and you know I’ll crack ya kettle, I walk with no fear, I drink too much beer, In case you haven’t heard, I’m kinda big around here, Cause I been around here, I hold it down around here, When you come to Mid-TN, you watch your mouth around here, Cause we all laid back, no one pushin’ Maybachs, We run as thick as thieves, I know these hills have got my back, And I got their’s too, I hold it down for my crew, We the go-getters, make it do what it do. I’m ridin through Tennessee, cause these hills, they’re a part of me, And these backroads they call for me, so I answer they call, I’ma a soul rebel with most of my own devils, Put the pedal to the medal and watch the dust fall. Tennessee born and raised, Bible belt taught us to pray, Coffee County where we stayed, in the fields of farms we played, Early mornings get to work, rain or not, get in the dirt, Out to sunset, feel the burn, hand me paper, time to turn, Light this Bic, inhale this herb, hittin’ sixty through the curve, Mountain roads, smell the air, Feel the breeze take ya cares, And make ‘em disappear, Bang this BUNK hit and let it dissipate your fears, Roll down the windows, let the music reach they ears, Feel the bass go through you, let the treble make it clear, That the BUNKS are here to stay, we here to lay raps, J.Smo produce the tracks, let Gro melt the wax, The team that bring the steam we cook the meat and then we serve it, We’d offer you some seconds but you really don’t deserve it, You talkin’ like your clean but you really ain’t that perfect, In the South we see the depth, you transparent at the surface, Your act is proving lame, we about to drop the curtains, If your feelings get to hurtin’ ask yourself if you certain, I’ma hit the road, you can call me on the phone, Leave a message, I won’t answer, through these hills as I roam. I know you got to feel this, this backhills country real shit, Moonshine, sweet wine, (can I get another swig), So hit me with that JD, it keeps these ladies crazy, Gentle Jack and Coke could be the recipe for babies, Been crazy since the 80s and escalating lately, Still I can’t help it, that’s how my mom made me, That’s how my pops raised, that’s how these hills shaped me, Jack Daniels, George Dickel, influenced me greatly, If you’re looking for me too long, I’m out here playing beer pong, These 24 cans will be long gone before dawn, Time to watch this sun climb these Tennessee hills, We been up all night seeking Tennessee thrills, Giving Tennessee chills with this venom I spill, Got my finger on the pulse to see how Tennessee feels, But its time to take the 6, hit the gravel, have a ball, Put the pedal to the medal and watch the dust fall.


This compilation includes BUNKS' most popular songs as well as the tracks typically performed live and when on tour. We put this album together to ensure fans and concert-goers could grab a copy of the songs they heard live.


released July 14, 2013

written, produced, and performed by BUNKS
recorded at One Mic Studios
artwork by Derrian R Childress, DRC Unknown Ent
Track 9, 'We Do This For' remixed and featuring DJ Know Love of Streetlight Allstars


all rights reserved



J.Smo of BUNKS Sacramento, California

J.Smo has been releasing music independently since 1999, originally as part of BUNKS (Manchester, Tennessee). Now a father of 3, husband, CMO, COO, musicpreneur, educator and jedi-of-many-trades, J.Smo continues to share his journey and thoughts while facing inner demons head on through rhyme. ... more

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