Metamorphosis Lyrics: Introducing...Homage and Freemoney

And so, in the spirit of this lyrical universe,
I'd like to welcome you as a fellow character written into the cosmic drama...together we will take part in an event not unlike a wizard's spell woven over the heart's drumbeat with the kick-snare of a judges mallet.

But first things first: we are Heartcore.
As in "heart" in the chest.
Yes, Heartcore.
Welcome to Metamorphosis, let's get started shall we?

They want to know who we are and what do we do in a few short words,
Cool.
Like they want to know how it begun and the places from which it grew.
So let me break-it-down like a boogaloo move on the record for all of you,
My name is Homage the Halfrican Cracker for all Calgarian crews.

And the music is my brother "Freemoney" the 5th,
That's his name, for the record, with the records spinning the disks,
Like deja-vu towards a deja-who?

We are the Heartcore,
That's our crew, incorporated under a truce,
Yes, Heartcore, as in heart in the chest, but don't get it confused:
Because it's harder than the fake-ganger images from those fools.

I may be speaking to a few or a multitude,
A crowd, or a room, it doesn't matter it takes two.
Excuse me this, music, it's mutual when expressed,
We are the best kept secret in Calgary since Bre-X.

And we're taking it back, way back, before the time of rap,
Before Adam and Eve consumed that psychedelic plant.
Before Calgary was filled with feathered lizards on land,
Before they filled up our gas tanks and this was Albertistan,
Yeah I said it, the way I meant it: we're taking it back to the first seed,
Like every chapter was a telescope to the past,
Like a time-machine...who know what I mean?

So let's move now, from the middle of the mandela to the edge,
Like water submersing an egg,
First with the heart; then the head.
And when it's all said, we grow, unfolding beyond this,
So watch me rock this mic like a mob stoning a prophet.

'Cuz truth is not a contest, or a macho conquest,
It's a homophobe...in a room without closets.
It may whisper, but not listening's never an option,
It's a one-night stand in Banff without a condom.

So the more you try to keep it concealed, the more the problems,
You know a moment of truth when you see it, forget concepts.
What we're doing is a mirror for all the secrets held hostage.
Raise your hands if music is God,
Raise your hands if I'm talking shit,

Whatever it is, or isn't, it's all of it swallowed at once, this instant,
Logical nonsense, never felt so good, so vivid.
So let me shoot straight to the matter like a comet hissing and hitting,
With so much content for the cause, these songs take an intermission like this...

So would I'd like to do, for you and yours, and all of ya'll,
Is draw some attention upon the energy entering the veins of faces,
...of all ages, races and genders like "Who sent ya?"
So in a way we've understood it:
This is REAL Hiphop to the Buckminster Fullest.

I freeze bullets of rhetoric, mid-air in front of me,
Shot from the corporate crooks like did I miss something?"

I'd rather describe a butterfly, climbing a tornado,
So you can say it ain't so!
But what you can't say is that is the same ole.

It's somewhere between rubbing a pregnant belly and squaring a circle.
We bring reality to real estate and other unreal states of the world.
Musically hard as concrete, or the emotion of denial,
I'll quote the Bible on the Pope and make a granola sound recycled.

They couldn't hold up this conversation if the mic was a rifle,
...you know what I mean?