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    "BUNKS puts a magnifying glass over the overlooked.” –Holly Strickland,

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The Message (Intro) (free) 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…
It’s safe to say not many people know me, Back in the day went by L-O-G-I-C, To this day Will C still make fun of me, He used to bless my mic in 2 double 0 three, I’m trying to tell you, been around in the game, The BUNKS rock the underground, we control the reigns of… (ONE MIC!) For seven years we’ve been building this house, Working quiet like a mouse, got no time for a spouse, I’m a full time daddy, I’m going to tell you like it is, Jayden Paul, he’s my kid, he’ll inherit my biz, I’m an entrepreneur; I’m going to get it for sure, Cause I’m sick of being broke and I’m looking for a cure, I took my student loans and I copped me some work, I wont’ tell you what I did, but I’ll tell you cops are jerks, More like pricks on power trips who can’t get touched, I didn’t do too much but everything you hear in rap songs, I’ve done done, it was so much fun, But now those times are over, getting back to the music, My passion got a grip so I have to choose it, Tired of dodging undercovers every time I made a move, So it’s back to making beats till I perfect my groove, Think BUNKS In Ya Trunk when we shake the room, We’re tired of being ignored, we’re tired of hearing the snores, We’re tired of turning on the radio and hearing the whores, I want to bring back the bangers like Fugees – The Score, Rakim, B.I.G., and so many more. Stepped in this game, early age, collecting change, Breaking away from these parental chains, Blockades and mirror mazes don’t mean a thing, When highways widen, I’m going to shake your brain, Lyrical Novocain is in my blood veins, Switching styles, also, lane to lane, First learned to drive in a Cuttie Supreme, Brown Sugar’s the name, Cruising down 96 East, Edelbrock 350 unleashed, Then we head to the spot, yea that’s my mom’s crib, One Mic Studios upstairs, A new occurrence wasn’t rare, Beats played all night, every day, I was there, Sponged up music, arrangement not crucial, Unless you commute to or speed through a funeral, The BUNKS you can’t chew through. Gro will take it to the days of “Yes Ya’llin”, I don’t’ care what they say, I ain’t got to be ballin’, I’m just here to hold it down for my crew, Keep the world spinning, make it do what it do, Fresh white sneaks with the Ray-Bans on, When you see Gro coming, you know I’m in the zone, The radio is killing me; that other shit is wack, Time for taking breaks are over, the BUNKS are coming back.
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.
All these thoughts are killing me, Without these thoughts there is no me All these thoughts are killing me, If you saw inside, it’s not pretty, I try so hard, but it’s not enough, I give it my all and follow my gut, Try to push forward, but I’m still in this rut, Feel my dreams fall but I got to stand tough, I follow the flow, that’s all I know, But the downhill slope is to steep to cope with, Always been an outcast, I have never fit in, I have lived a million lives and they all met an end, I’ve been an addict, then I hustled, I’ve been the man and then I tumbled, I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor and I can say I love them both, But my son and this music are the things I love the most, I’ma ride the flow, until I die, please throw me off the coast, Without these thoughts there is no me, With all this bling, we cannot see, I’ve lost my faith, I can’t believe, There is no trust, I can’t receive. All these thoughts are killing me, So I’ma bring the infantry, Speaking through this ministry, Started as a mystery, Departed, now its history, The rest is calm and plain to see, Here to bring back hip hop legacies, Using different beat techniques, Reaching highest flowing peaks, Original and sounds unique, Other towns Boro defeats, We bring the feeling that’s concrete, In the country or our streets, Commercial radio, is what’s killing me These thoughts they got me pacing, Racing round like they be chasing me, Been cursed since my creation, this caucasian’s making history, I’m forced to make relations with the natives in this industry, But as soon they turn their back, I’m slicing throats like Michael Myers be, Got a feeling for the killing of these beats they call it genocide, If you wait for my inception to this place, I’ve been arrived, I strive to stay alive while always working on my drive, I keep live like it’s my job and I be working 9 to 5, I know you hear me, are you listening? My face is turning blue, I ain’t no smurf, still I ain’t stopping till my days on earth are through, Tried and true is how I do, hold it down for my crew, If you’re stepping in our path, best believe you’re getting screwed
Trapped 04:42
Rock stars all over the world, drinking sixteen, Relate through music, open house, people visiting, Time for a change, can you grapple? Hip-hop playing in the Sistine Chapel, Heard souls were bought, knew it couldn’t be actual, Classical was lost, art no longer magical, Cats try to do this for the wrong reasons, Opposite to mine, pour emotions on this mic, Call it soul shine…. Do it for my love, do it for my self-control, Creating from passion, I withhold, It’s amazing how the universe unfolds, Travel down a strange road to get where you’re going, Opportunities, at last I’m pursuing, Running in the wild, I’m a child with a mild mind state, Feeling great till the day I reach the Golden Gates, Figure out situations… Write it down, illustrate, learning from mistakes, Increase my pace in this race, The chase is on… The chase is on… The chase is on… We do this for the passion, we do this for the love, Music runs with my tears and it flows with my blood, We cling to the microphone to set our soul free, Cause we’re trapped in a world that wasn’t meant for we. Do you even realize what this actually means? The commodification of mind, body, and soul, The natives found the land but someone made them go, You know the Trail of Tears, disease infested blankets, Cortez destroyed the Aztecs, now their memories are ancient, Capitalism buys your time, forced to live inside these lines, Forced to build another zombie of a mind… For years I have cried, tears backed by a dam, Advertisements, propaganda, what defines a man? Inside every office, in every plan, evil lurks, White is said to be so pure but it’s tainted with dirt, Sell your soul to the company, they’ll put you to work, For minimum wage and no benefits, at least we got church, But even they need your money, that’s how my pops got paid, Welcome to America where hypocrisy’s made. I’m destined for greater things than spitting about diamond rings, Late in the night, my conscious, it screams, Shattered dreams doused like mini light beams, Cause no one wants to listen if you ain’t talking bling, But I don’t give a damn if I don’t sell a thing, I’ma keep making songs, if only for me, Rescue me, if I ever go astray, And stop putting thought into the words that I say, I’m always looking for a better way to make it through my everyday, It seems my thoughts have drifted toward the MilkyWay, I hear ‘em say I long to be a kid again, And never worry what changes with the wind, I’m so sick of the shallowness we bathe ourselves in, I’d give it all back for ignorance again, Forget Paris H., forget Pac Man, Forget Rosie, who’s this Trump man? Forget Al-Qaeda, forget George Bush, Forget all this bull, I wish that we could
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.
Generica (free) 05:44
Welcome to Generica, born and raised, Where we see the same junk like every day, From the East to the West, every city the same, We’re so tired of vanilla, we’re so sick of the plain. Let me take you to a place you might know quite well, Generica, USA, land of the sell, Home of the greedy, take-it-all, without no fail, It’ll cost you a dollar just to in and exhale, Through tooth and nail we keep scratching to make these worlds gel, Will we ever make it? Only time will tell, Now that big box has got free reign, we sold our soul, Forget what you’re told, there’s no necessity to fit the mold, You know that everything that shimmers isn’t diamonds and gold, We wrap ourselves in nothing less than silver and cold, For a man of twenty-five, I am feeling so old, Weight of the world is on my shoulders, what a burden to hold, But what’s the goal? I know the means, but not the end, I pray to God that change will come against the wind, Against the grain is where I stay and where I keep my pen, No matter what the rules, they’ll never keep me pinned. Ordinary storks and fairies, From city to city, places stay the same, Original must no longer be, part of the game, I’m tired of the stories and the lack of change, Better off living far from mainstream, Society systems will collapse in the end, Concentrated plans, underground, night teams, Winning gold medals for our dreams, plenty green, Stuck in Generica, the price that we scream, Fiends getting sick when they don’t get paid, Sold their soul, now they’re working for minimum wage, How does that comply with America’s age? Uncle Sam’s ideas filled the millionth page, This box is unlocked so I close the rage, Release through music till we set the proper stage. I’ve been traveling for days, every city looks the same, Wal-Mart, Starbucks, stores lined up in chains, Manufactured to the grave, corporations rule the stage, Blueprints photocopied so to structure the maze, Pay for your food and hunt for the cash, I think there’s something backwards about the picture, look to the past, We used to be self-sustained; now we’re forced to be dependent, On a system that was founded on the freedom of religion? Now its safe to say that down the line the vision was skewed, Its time to break down the mold and try something new, I’ve been a thousand miles and back looking for change, Welcome to Generica where it’s all made the same, But outsourced to cheap labor, overseas, making bank, Force your style upon the world and watch their faces turn blank, Consequences lead to actions when the people irate, How much farther can we go before the love turns to hate
Instead of looking for a cure, we’re looking for prevention, The more pills that they sell, the more money in they pension, I’m throwing up my guts, riding dirty on this bus, Doctor handed me a pill, said he’s going out to lunch, I see him playing golf while I’m cutting the grass, Back hurting, mood low, my mind dying to ask, What you got for me doc, I need some advice, I know he’ll hand me a bottle and say have a nice night. Swallow the pill! Dissolve inside your stomach then alter your will, Change the way you’re feeling if you’re looking for a thrill, They’ll prevent the aches and pains until the moment they kill, Swallow the pill! You can purchase a relationship, if you’re money right, Subscribe to the overnight flight, Pills described as new life, Unfortunate for our new life, I’m talking about the babies, Advantage through the gripe, reeling in lines from beneath surface contract lies, Capsules of concrete erode, inside, Until the days of yester and tomorrow no longer exist… No longer exist…. No longer exist… Viagra, Enzyte, just to get your jimmy right, What we cram down our throats enough to make the pope sigh, Swear to God I never know the crazy things that people try, Side effects just enough to make a person want to die, Like blind sheep we follow, everything they say to swallow, Whether they be full or hollow, it makes a man want to holla, Think they want our best but they out for another dolla, Legal drug dealers never serve a dime for things they offer.
Addicted 03:35
On my Sunday night cruise I like to get in my zone, Roll a couple up and crank up the stereo, Put a Bic to the tip and exhale to the sky, Now I’m ready to ride, come on get ready to fly. I just packed up the 6, got my homies inside, It’s time to hit the interstate, let’s go for a ride, My car so smooth I can swear that she glide, Time to crank up my stereo as we take this flight, Not coming back till late tonight, got my cooler packed tight, A case of Coor’s light can help the night go right, Just a case of Sunday driving got me feeling I’m alive, And I can’t help but crack a smile as I put this car in drive, The closer that we get to the mountains I forget, About the worries and the troubles, all the things I got to sweat, I let it all go, it can wait for Monday morning, Till the light peaks in and the alarm sounds the warning. Let’s venture to the countryside, Nothing else than to ride down to Small Barn Sound on a Sunday night, When city life got you in a hold, Binding commotion, crowds uncontrolled, I know where to go, Three Bunkateers on a storm, Only people around are these hilly billy goats, Highway 41, past Beechgrove, Manchester, cruise, Case International, Hillsboro, Yo, yo, yo, slow your role, Stephenson, we getting close, Corn rows, sunset, hilltops, trees shine gold, Pulling up in the drive, welcome home. I feel the feeling coming, time to hit the road again, Small Barn Sound is where my travels will end, Me and DJ hit the road, call up Gro, and let him know, We going out to the country, got to find a different a flow, I got the Murfreesboro blues, I need something new, Get away from the city lights, And see the full moon, I’m going back to my home, to the little town that raised me, I’m not afraid to say that I’ve been missing you lately, The pressures of my struggles, they about to drive me crazy, The baby mama drama won’t let her be a lady, It’s me and my son and we’re looking escape, So its to these country roads where we go to create.
I’m seeing problems with the game so I came with a solution, Turn the lights out on your bling, that’ll be the conclusion, Take it back to two tables and a microphone (microphone), Tired of seeing chumps turning gangsta in the studio, Sick of hearing fake lives, lived out on track, If you hustlin’ homie, why you owe me a stack? Why you begging me for air time? This isn’t charity, I think we need some clarity, your rhymes are wack to me, Seven years behind the board, I’ve produced for the best, Conscious lyricists, who wear they soul on they chest, Unprecedented to the bone, yea we take the right steps, Turn this passion into business cause I got nothing else, And when I got nothing left, I’ll have music and songs, And I’ll sing ‘em everyday until the time that I’m gone, Better hold tight to your bling cause it’s a thing of the past, It’ll still be shining strong while you rot under grass, homie. We rock, we roll, we’re taking control, We’re so sick of pop music, we’re about to explode, Our passion got a grip, it’s our soul that we spit, It’s time to start a revolution with our mic and our lips. I rock, I roll, I write with might, This passion so strong it’s guiding my sight, Blind to the norm I fight for what’s right, While I stay to the left and avoid the slight, Mistakes been made by our government, Why do I feel smarter than the President? We got a cartoon character in the White House, Someone tell me how that’s right now? The news is so skewed, what are the facts? Fox spins more stories than we spin tracks, In fact they got plot lines better than drama, And I never heard ‘em say one good word about O’bama, I’m just looking for the truth in a world full of lies, This thing is more jacked than Days of Our Lives, I’m at the end of my tunnel, still searching for the light, I can’t say I changed the world but at least I tried. Yo, yo, turn off that radio! All I’m hearing are these fake tales and commercials, Claim to be a criminal, only at the studio, I guess that’s cool to whomever under inclement weather, Can see your displacement is lower level, Triple the bases, Rearrange cosmos, Ten-thousand faces, pieces pasted over Hollywood lies, Stick to the truth the way I see through these rhymes.
If I Die 03:26
And if I die, you know I gave it my best, Stayed BUNK to the soul, I gave this heart out my chest, Kept it simple to the core, shared my wealth with the rest, Staying true to the music, living life with no regrets. I say a prayer to my God, cross my fingers to my chest, Bust one last time before I lay this beat to rest, I’m blessed with a gift but I’m cursed with the use, I pour out these stories, they’re my feelings cut loose, In the booth, I’m a legend, in my mind, I’m a star, For giving you a taste of these rhymes and my scars, I live out my life every day on the beat, Like my world’s an open book, for everyone to see, Every heartache, every joy, every tear, every smile, Just to do it my way, makes it all worthwhile, I kept it BUNK to the core, shared my wealth with the rest, Stayed true to the vision, lived my life with no regrets. I was ready to die until my son showed his face, The night he came out of the womb, I was put in my place, Now I’m all about my business, ain’t got time for detours, But I met with crossroads and the trials they endured, Twenty pounds of plants and they $500 a pop, All of a sudden distribution became the job that I got, And soon the heat was on, and they looking right at me, It seems my neighbors, they be talking ‘bout what they never see, Eventually, it’s gonna give, tell me how you wanna live, Vice always up in ya crib, I don’t want to lose my kid, I bet you would feel the same, I’m done caught up in the game, Never wanted it this way, on the road to better days, Staying BUNK to the core, keep it true to the music, Time to use it for improvements, giving you some amusement, I put the soul back in rap, beg you please don’t confuse it, I’m meditating on Confucius while thinking ‘bout Buddhists, I was raised a country Christian, yea my daddy a preacher, But my sermons come in flows and the beats, they the teacher, Together we the team and we’re coming to beat ya, Smo & Gro, we make the BUNKS and we the hottest new feature.
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.


BUNKS find themselves stuck in Generica, "home of the greedy, take-it-all, without no fail/it’ll cost you a dollar just to in and exhale".

Addiction, obesity, consumerism, and ignorance plague a world "where every city looks the same" and this album is a release as well as a BUNKS analysis of the trials and tribulations surrounding the human species (as well as BUNKS themselves) as it continues consuming itself into destruction.

Also features the hit single "Coffee Flavored Memories", an ode to the great land known as Coffee County where Joshua (Smo) and Joshua (Gro) first met and set this movement into motion.

100% of sales of 'Coffee Flavored Memories' goes directly to the Hillsboro Community Backpack Program which helps feed hungry children in the community.

BUNKS is an acronym: Bringing Unmatched Noise Knowledge and Sound. They are from Manchester, Tennessee.

“Amidst the flashy dashy, bling bling materialist, candy coated I wanna be a thug hip hop, the BUNKS’ call to action couldn’t come at a better time. The hard hitting and crowd moving “Generica,” is a subtle lyrical tirade of hip-hop awareness. Laced with fiery socially conscious messages, banging bass lines, and revolutionary themes, the album is almost enough to single-handedly kill off closed-minded elitist cultures.” –Rick Jamm,


released October 7, 2008


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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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