HOT SAUCE FROM HELL, by Postell Pringle (2024)

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"Chaka Zulu up inside your stereo. This is nonstop hip hop...once again, ladies and gentlemen..."

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INTRO_scratchesOnce again ladies and gentlemen...VERSE 1We used to say...RUN, RUN STEP! - We’re still yellin’ itOnce again ladies and gentlemen...it’s Postell and it’sThe immaculate conception, the super villain that’sBout to steal the rap election. Go tell your delegatesI put the checks in the mail. If they expect cashMy perverted stankin’ ass is the definition of eleganceIt’s gettin’ harder for rappers to stay relevantBout as easy as f*ckin’ pedophiles stayin’ celebateRUN, RUN STEP! - The abolition danceRunaway slave mentality, you’d probably piss your pantsI never miss the cance to f*ck their white womenPsychological revenge for all the nigg*s that these crackers lynchedAfro-American? I’m Black as sh*t!Just try snatchin’ the fried chicken up off my plateI’d like ta have a fit!You ain’t know the half of it‘less you one of these beige nigg*s that’s all the rage nigg*Like Colin KapernickOr Russel Wilson, Drake and ‘em jumpin’ out the drawerOf a light skinn’ded negro store called Al B. Sure’s“Gefilte makes you vomit” This sh*t sounds like Tip and Phife when they was still with Ali Shaheed MuhammadSo call me Jack the RapperI’m jackin’ Eminem, Ghostface, MaceEven jackin’ Frank ZappaRaised in Decatur, roots in Cackalack Brooklyn - get to steppin’ like a Phi Beta KappaYou nigg*s betta...CHORUS_scratchesRUN, RUN STEP!Once again ladies and gentlemen...VERSE 2Step In The Arena and it’s No More Mister Nice GuyTake me out my Deep Concentration?...nigg*, nice tryCheck The Technique, I get ovationsTo Flip The Script and Bust Your sh*t’s just a Daily OperationLive by the Code Of The Streets, my Street MinistryPay us or they’ll be Chaos in this Soliloquyf*ck Around and Lay Around?...there’s no time to burnYou gotta Speak Ya Clout ‘cause Mass Appeal is Hard To EarnNew York Straight Talk - don’t holla bout loveTill the Moment Of Truth. This is In Memory OfOne of the Illest in an era who’s now Above The CloudsIf you believe in higher powers, Tha Ownerz is Zonin’ OutDon’t Take It Personal, Take Two and Pass the cannabisYou Know My Stee*z, now watch me Manifest‘Cause It’s a Long Way To Go If You Don’t Know Where Ya Goin’If You Don’t Know Where Goin’ sit back and let me handle thisBefore my debut ‘Salsa From Hell’Keith Elam’s in The Planet rappin’ bout The Place Where We DwellNow I reside in Bed-Stuy, they callin’ me a hipsterGrew up on that Gangstarr so I don’t give a sh*t, sirThis for my team - still havin’ Technic and SP 1200 dreamsShout out to Preme!Still cypher with my inner circleThis is homage to the Gifted Unlimited rapper whose Rhymes is UniversalOUTROKeith ElamThe G to the U to the R URest. In. Peace.Shout to the Gangstarr FoundationSelect Personnel [Productions]...CHORUS_scratchesRUN, RUN STEP!Once again ladies and gentlemen...

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VERSE 1(Nuh!) The Osiris of the sh*tThis here feel like Wu-Tang forever bitch Obscure samples, 16-bit drumsCush smoke in my lungs, nigg*, feel like '96Or more like a G took 'bout 90 hits From a vaporizer. [I] got the munchiesAte rapper snacks - emcee appetizers Old but I ain't gettin' wiser You know you're trill when your Deutschland fans be yellin' that's "That's my scheisse!" Made your girl blush like she saw the size of my erect penis. Made her gush, but more like a geyserStingy with the bush, call her puss* miser She still murder the dick, swear to God, nobody gets it live-er[I] ain't bein facetious. Man, I'ma fanYou ain't know? Your hoe got the coldest skull cross the land'Specially with them overactive saliva glands Talk a lot but chugs a co*ck like a budweiser canWhat a woman! I'll probably write this song about her. Just to show you suckas I'm the trillest nigg* out here It's reasonable, but I doubt there's a goddamn one who rocks like Jason Whether it's ‘in’ or ‘outdoors’. "You know nothin’" Before, you knew a bloodclottin’ lot I freeze up all these hip hoppers that you swear is hot Postell, that's the name - please wear it out! Apologies in advance, Mama, I'm 'bout to swear a lot [A] good protestant upbringing, [my] parents can't condone sinfulness. Specifically, when I confess it on microphones Religiously I've grown. In fact, I'm droppin' Big Baby Jesus sh*ts. Call me Asun Jones (Nuh!) CHORUSThe Osiris of the sh*t! R. I. P. ODB, forever bitchStick out our necks like an ostrich No days off until it pays offAnd leave a nigg* awful richAct like you know, like you won an Oscar, bitchOr call the cops, yo. We ‘bout to kill it With extreme prejudice, like a bigot The crowds screamin', when I say "Can You Dig It!"VERSE 2Last but never least. Beast long, forever last Like I got a GED, see I ain't never had no class, nigg*Graduated from the school of hard knocks With some hard rocks who sold hard rock just to get cash, nigg*Blue tops. Adidas shoe box - where they stashed figuresTalk sh*t and back it up like they eatin' ass, nigg*Smoke you like hash cigarettes Punk shawdies, Kurupt young gottisThey probably rap with Daz, nigg* So please don't think I ain't a Warrior. The armor I got on don't chink Oh… And even if my plans get wrinkled, my start don't twinkleI still get plenty hole that's pink A hard on for hard drums and my dick don't shrinkDrop feces on you hoes like my sh*t don't stink So, so let me see your hands in the sky 'fore I goLike Shimmy shimmy ya, Shimmy yam, shimmy yuh (Nuh!) CHORUSThe Osiris of the sh*t! R. I. P. ODB, forever bitchStick out our necks like an ostrich No days off until it pays offAnd leave a nigg* awful richAct like you know, like you won an Oscar, bitchOr call the cops, yo. We ‘bout to kill it With extreme prejudice, like a bigot The crowds screamin', when I say "Can You Dig It!"OUTROI can bake rhymes good as a Tastykake I can bake I - I - I can bakeI - I - I can bake rhymes good as a Tastykake I can bake rhymes good as a Tastykake I can bake rhymes good as a Tastykake I can bake I - I can bakeI - I can bake rhymes good as a Tastykake mix / This style? I mastered thisNUH!

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VERSE 1 [Postell]Me and my guy B Side was in the rideBumpin’ Tribe out the trunk, feel the thump like it’s ‘95Everybody young and old feelin’ the vibeHotter than July but we the coldest nigg*s aliveWe decide to hit a club downtown ManhattanI’m in the passenger, tonight B-Side’s the captainGet inside and, yup, the crowd is crackin’ Head to the bar for a shot of yack andSomething to sip on. Dip on, shake a hip on the dancefloorDJ’s playin’ them jams that women and men throw up they hands forSuddenly I see a broad with a vicious bootySlender waist, china doll face and delicious boobiesType of bod that’ll make you write an homageCouldn’t be real - That ass has to be a mirageOh. My. Gosh! There ain’t no shame in my gameI walked over, asked her name, she said it plain (Nicki Minaj)Stop playin’! Just like the sanger?Ya kinda look like her, you could be her doppelgangerStarted grindin’ and feelin’ on her body partsHer behind commit a crime ‘cause her booty stole my heartExchanged digits. Usually a playa playBut she invaded my brain, had to text her right awayTo say “Shawdy, don’t want you to get it twistedBut I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you this miss…”CHORUSPeople want what Grandma and Grandaddy hadBut they ain’t had choices, Baby we do!If I could stop the record, spin it back and thenPlay it one mo’ gin, I think I’d choose youVERSE 2 If you can’t comprehend the hold Nicki had on meObviously, bro, you ain’t know of her anatomyHourglass! Hoping our past ‘causes chemistryMust be obsessed because I had to seeI learned ‘the game’ from pimps in CadillacsO.G. players with canes, big frames, no cataractsGuarding my ego, like “She ain’t all that”But screamed like a giddy school girl when she chose to call me backAnd forth for weeks. Til’ Nicki finally invite me overThinkin’ I’ma ‘git it, git it’. She gave me the cold shoulderShe said let’s keep it open. Told me to slow my motorPlot thickens ‘cause my Charles Dickens really wants some closureNow I’m never sober. Can only dream to hold herTil’ one night she pulls up to my crib in a tinted RoverLong trench coat, Manolo’s and bare shouldersOpens up the coat and she was more bare, even lowerTook command, put a clutch on my baby cobraAlmost exploded in my pants like a supernovaWorked my black boner all night like a slave ownerBefore Nicki left I grabbed her arm and told herCHORUSPeople want what Grandma and Grandaddy hadBut they ain’t had choices, Baby we do!If I could stop the record, spin it back and thenPlay it one mo’ gin, I think I’d choose you(Choose who?) Choose youYeah, I’d probably choose you(Choose who?) Choose youYeah, I know I’d choose youBaby, I choose you!VERSE 3 Ain’t never met a woman that made me that loopyFeel like my man Mos and she Ms. Fat BootyMy homie B complains, he say I went insane Only thang ever on my brain is (Nicki Minaj)He say, if there’s a looney bin, I should check inAll I know is that I’m at her call if she beckonsWorst case of puss* whippin’ that you ever witnessedFeel like I cam down with a sickness called (Nicki Minaj)Similar to AIDS...or maybe just the mumpsI’m dyin’ cause she ain’t text or called me in monthsGoin’ through withdrawal like an addict shootin’ junkSpankin’ while I’m thankin’ bout her trunk. OH! (Nicki Minaj)I’m over her though. It’s been like half a yearI’m good now. WIth a new girl. Just so you all are clearThen out of nowhere. Nicki’s at me door, trench coat like beforeAnd then she whispers in my ear...OUTRO CHORUS [Lil RASPY]People want what Grandma and Grandaddy hadBut they ain’t had choices, Baby we do!If I could stop the record, spin it back and thenPlay it all again, I think I’d choose you(Choose who?) Choose youYeah, I’d probably choose you(Choose who?) Choose youYeah, I know I’d choose you

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VERSE 1Yo - What I have to say is tough baby, but I don’t believe in loveYou’ll start it with a push, I’ll end it with a shoveYou rainin’ down affection, I’m drownin’ in your floodFrom every angle you strangle me, baby, with your hugsYou say you “Love me” but - but what the hell is “Love”?That ain’t sufficient. Clarify what it encompassesIt’s monstrous, confuses all of usWe wax poetic, pathetic sh*t, more accurate to call it lustWhen you look at me - I blush, just your smell - I caught a rushBut your sensuous kisses - girl, that’s not enoughI buy a lot of stuff - expensive food to feed youFancy thangs to treat you, and still that ain’t no guarantee to keep youYou say it’s all that you feel? I’ve seen my parents fall in, then out of it that quick - so how could it be real?!Some say it last long but we not Bill or CamilleSo sick of love songs, girl, and I’m not even NeoBut still, you inspire me to write ‘emIrrational, taught emotions is vagin*l, have to fight ‘emWith zeal - dreamin’ that we could be an itemBut them dreams ain’t welcome here, so please don’t invite ‘emCHORUSAnd it feels like a game that I’ll never winSo baby, Say that you love me againYeahYeahSay that you love me...YeahVERSE 2 Liebe. Aşk. Ai. Mi amor. Six thousand ways to say “Love”. You’ve heard ‘em all beforeGirl, I ain’t no hater or mean muggin’But if you say it million times, how the f*cks it ‘spose to mean somethin’Sure your favorite sangers sing about it.Can’t trust them, man, they wouldn’t have a damn career without itMy heros were rappers, former trappers with flowsAnd lesson one was that we shouldn’t love you hoes‘Cause you can’t believe ‘em. And every playa ‘bove you knowsEven if I actually love you though?...STOP! -- You’re breakin’ down my defenses. Feel it sinking’ in, so - (Say that you love me…) -- NO! Listen Juliet, I don’t wanna be your RomeoI ain’t Bobby Brown, I don’t need a Tender Roni, yoI ain’t makin’ no retro love jams, I ain’t Chromeo“No, means, No” This love’s not consensualCause we gotta meet in the middle before we growOr we’ll be at each other's throats before we knowAnd I don’t wanna fight you toe-to-toeBut before you reach the door, gotta make it clear for you goCHORUSThat I know it’s just a game that I’ll never winSo lady, Say that you love me againYeahYeahSay that you love me…YeahSay that you love me againYeahYeahSay that you love me...Yeah

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VERSE 1Feels like this life keeps closing in on usIt happens so much it makes it hard to adjustSee, I never ever felt this wayNo. I can’t waitNow. I can’t waitTo sleep ‘cause in my dreams Is where we’d live each dayIf I had my wayEverything’d be okayBut I know now that by and byWe’d go astray, soI can’t stayRemember it was...CHORUS(Just you & me) That’s all I ever wanted(Just you & me) I thought it’d never be(Just you & me) Until it finally was(Just you & me) Now it just ain’t enoughVERSE 2 We used to f*ck all night longWake up [and] Cherish the Day like a Sade songHopeful and so soulfulYou got a Mob of Goodies and puss* was like Soul FoodTo this old fool. I call it ‘comforting’My pleasure was to find your buried treasure - make you cum for meNever selfish with your love, you’d save some for me[You] knew something would hurt my pride, you would play dumb for meBut when you’d run for me, I’d run awayTreated commitment like it meant somebody took my fun awayWe’d fight like Mr. & Mrs. Smith - guns a blazeBut without you at night, it’s like somebody took the sun awayThey warn you ‘bout the premature “I Do”Somehow we disease’d like diabetes - Type TwoBack then, I was psyched tooBut what I know now, I wish that I knew.When it was just…CHORUS 2x(Just you & me) That’s all I ever wanted(Just you & me) I thought it’d never be(Just you & me) Until it finally was(Just you & me) Now it just ain’t enoughBRIDGE 2xJust you and me nowJust you and me nowJust you...Just me...VERSE 3 I wrote a song, summer ‘95Hopin’ somewhere it’d be heard, bringin’ someone to my sideWho would ride wit me and confide in mePlus abide with my foolishness, hooliganishness and my wideRange of mood swings. Need a mood ring just to knowWhich ones comin’ next. If I could I would showYou. But it wouldn’t change the outcomeThe “What if I’d done’s” or the “How come’s”Naw. Never been much of a romanticNo sweet nothin’. No Voyage to AtlantisAll and all, glad you succame to my advancesBut see we had our chance when it was…CHORUS 2x(Just you & me) That’s all I ever wanted(Just you & me) I thought it’d never be(Just you & me) Until it finally was(Just you & me) Now it just ain’t enoughOUTRORemember it was just…That’s all I ever wantedI thought it’d never beUntil it finally wasNaw, it ain’t enough, darlin’(4x)That’s all I ever wantedI thought it’d never beUntil it finally wasNow it just ain’t enough

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VERSE [Postell]Yeah, here we go againI’m like Dougie or Ricky and this is called The Show, and thenCall up your hoes again, tell ‘em call me The Pervert if I ain’t yet had the lovely of knownin’ themDecatur, GA is my originsBrooklyn’s where you go, by the way, you wanna see more of himAnd if you don’t, you’re better off ignorin’ him‘Cause even glancing in my direction I view as encouragementLike a panhandler that’s on your trainSmellin’ like cheese, beggin’ “please, can you spare some change”Singin’ off key, ain’t crazy but you can’t call me saneAvoid my eye contact but I know that y’all hear what I’m sayin’BING-BONG! Watch your ass as the doors closeScreamin’ stop the violence while I’m reaching for my 4-4Dance my nigg* jig and steppin’ all on your toesShow up late for your party and eat all of your hor d'oeuvresIt’s hard to be a fan of usRun up in your house and housin’ all your lil dill cucumber and mayo sandwichesMy fam is barely standin’ usHave the type of nights [that] the next morning I get a huge bill for all the damagesI’m all cantankerous, I call all of ‘em slandersI grip my balls and pause for all of the camerasY’all shoot the sh*t like enimasYou’re kinda _________, but you’re cool. Like you all from CanadaCame up in a different era - The Ninties, nigg*. Couldn’t even rap unless you had a pair aBalls, a pound weed, a fatigue and timberland wearerThe realest nigg*s was from The Eighties and they was wearin’ masceraSo now you find me on your YouTubesThe dude rappin’ next to the bitch with the painted blue boobsRhyme old school, simultaneously break the new rulesIgnore the Torah, singin’ Christmas carols like some new Jews‘Shalom’ to my Hebraic friends. ‘A salaam wa alaikum’ to the Muslims in the mosqueI hope y’all Christians and Catholics don’t get your way againI’d love to tell the co*ck-suckers and carpet-munchers it’s okay to be gay again(It’s OKAY!) Equal opportunity offender. Corrupt senator with no political agendaSing and rap over boom bap genre benderCareer ender?...Maybe. I’m just prayin’ that y’all feelin’ thisI don’t know, just seems some emcees seem rife for the killin’. It’snot tyranist. In fact, you should think it generousIt’s rigourous! Ridding the world of these vociferous rappers. And I could learn you. Perhaps I’ll write you a syllabus So stop your panicin’Y’all rather look good losin’ like an abusin’ and boozin’ Kenneth Cole manikinWe beach cruisin’, buildin’ castles in the sand againFugly Mutha-uckers that’s choosin’ from several plans to winPut it on wax, like lanolinGot the Whoomp-Ass in the trunk, bout to open a can againCush in my lung parts, Young Darth, call me AnakinOn Da Move interlude - nigg*s is on the lamb again (and singin’)Run. Step. Bounce, nigg*. BounceRun, run. Step. Bounce, nigg*No cubic zirconia, we like Smooth B. iceAnd I’ma leave you with advice from his partner Greg Nice, who said...CHORUSAyo AyoI smoke the bluntHit the skinsGet what I wantIt ain’t no need to frontSat her on my lap stick my finger in the...C’monRepeat 2XSat her on my lap stick my finger in theSat her on my lap stick my finger in theSat her on my lap, Sat her on my lapSat her on my lap stick my finger in the...C#%T!OUTRO [Greg Nice]When I finished I smoked the blunt!

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VERSE 1 [Postell]Eggs over easy, bacon in the frying panBourbon in my coffee, co*cktails with VicodinsThe Black Dolph Lungren. I play the villain, manpuss* in abundance. Welcome to the Lion’s DenROAWR!!! They run at the mere sight of himYour favorite emcee’s gettin’ sonned like I sired themMy girl RASPY, take out hoes like firemen Without the hydrants, like Chaka Demus and Pliers (DAMN!)It’s murder she wrote, you heard I’ma GOATThe proof is in every _____ word I emoteShout to the Chevy Rydah - my nigg* NOTEAnd B-Side. Select Personnel - we ain’t a joke!Find me in London with my crew G, J, and JaxThree shows today, one on the way, tell your hoe relaxThe Retar’s (aka The Rap Pack) still be rippin’ raw rapsTearin’ down your goals like the Magic or LSU ShaqFirst here and the last to leaveHustle hard like a got a hundred mouths the feedOr a hundred keys / I need some puss*, dearOn your period? I don’t care, bitch, Let It BleedLike a Rolling Stones albumOr the outcome in Bed-Stuy when the cops be profilin’Wanna call my bluff? Keep dialin’Tryin’ to change the game with that lame sh*t? You wildin’!CHORUS 1Vodka bottles / Bloody Mary’s gettin’ topped offDope beats for breakfast...Don’t forget the Hot SauceDon’t forget the Hot Sauce. Don’t forget the Hot SauceVERSE 2 [Postell]Ain’t it bizarroSo much to live for but rap like there’s no tomorrowStyles upon styles, I got flows you can borrowSave the best for Soul, my nephew, and his little bro TaroPlus my baby boi OtisI’m buildin’ on a legacy, if y’all didn’t noticeFillin’ up seats with fans - That includes my opponents And givin’ nigg*s tickets like these cops fill up quotasI’d rather that than glock bulletsBlack Lives Matter till one of these scaredy cops pull itAnd lives shatter. Politicians actin’ recklessThat’s why I tell my homies, “Dudes, finish your breakfast!”VERSE 3 [NOTE]One time for your muthaf*ckin’ mindTwo timing-ass hoes as my friends, I run it back and beginI cop a squat up in the booth and start confessin’ my sinsFull clip is extend though - what I’m gon’ pretend fo’Make a bitch move her head up and down like cresendoThat’s the point I climax. Sharpen the battle ax The Black Paul Bunyan, swingin’ at your neck nigg* (Check me!)Bitches talkin’ greezy cuz they hate me but respect meIt’s a fine line, manage my shine like a jewelry store ownerThe Devil knows you’re dead and you're a gonerDon’t forget the Hot Sauce on my scrambled with cheeseI’m flippin’ hoes with a spatula at 30 degreesIt’s too cold, cold, cold, coldIt’s too cold, cold, cold, coldIt’s too cold!CHORUS 2Poached eggs benedict, make sure the yolks softMimosas chased with manischewitz - Mazoltuv!More bottles of prosecco. f*ck the costStomach stuffed to the summit, lookin’ like Rick RossGlazed donuts filled up with foie gras A bowl of Molly’s while I’m jammin’ to Luther VandrossKale banana smoothie, buns with a hot crossDope beats for breakfast...Don’t forget the Hot SauceDon’t forget the Hot Sauce. Don’t forget the Hot Sauce.Don’t forget the Hot Sauce. Don’t forget the Hot Sauce.Don’t forget the Hot Sauce. Don’t forget the Hot Sauce.Don’t you dare forget itOUTRO [Otis Pringle]Don’t forget the Hot Sauce!

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VERSE 1 [Postell]I Gotta Girl like Lindsay on Freaks and GeeksWhip smart, big heart, knows where and when not to speakStunning frame, fancy heel game on her feetAnd when she gives me head (MWAH!)...It’s cherchez magnifique! I spit dumb raps, I don’t need your damn critique[Gotta Girl](Va) tailler une pipe et sauter dans la baie de Chesapeake [Postell]That’s french for “Eat a dick and go jump in the Chesapeake” You’ll lose you poise like you lost your boyz, Mr. Cheeks!Whippin’ a Zipcar, the whole clique rollin’ deepBumpin’ Le Freak by Chic, dipped like The Iron SheikMy bitch look like Sgt. Slaughter, different physiqueShowin’, still she stone rollin’ like Raphael SaadiqGot Africans reppin’ Mozambique. Bunch a nigg*s dressed in togas and saddles, it’s like they think they greekWe seven days a week, f*ck all the meet and greetYou should join the party, ditch your clothes and getchu a sheetAnd tell your hoe she should stop being so obliqueWanna see her human highlights, call her DominiqueWilkins. I’m like a milkman when I skeet skeetGet it?!...Sweet.CHORUSLemme tell you ‘bout a girl named...I wanna girl with a…Oh, girl…Lemme tell you ‘bout a girl named...I’d be in trouble if you leave me now…Git it girl!I love…Love…Girls, girls, girls, girls!VERSE 2 [Postell]I Gotta Chick like Cece on New GirlBeauty effervescent, makes you wanna give her new pearlNecklaces on her breasts-seses, with a swirlMeeting her feel(s) like Columbus when that wop found the New WorldShe been around, country gal, like she knew Merle Haggard, tremendous swagger, makes you do twirlsBut keeps it locked tight for her man like a Jew curlAnd got them saltines, ya’mean, when a dude Earls[Gotta Girl]¡Cámbialo, bebé!She say ‘switch up the rhyme scheme’Hands me an ice pack, mexican co*ke and VisineChatty Cathy but she got the biggest fatty I seenFeel like Jim Carrey in Me, Myself and IreneTurn on the sirene. Have to call for backup when she back that ass up all on my high beamMounts me like a mountie, hoovers my creamIn her mouth, knowwhatI’mtalkinbout...plus she got good hygieneSlam it in her basket while she set a high screenPost up in her box while she set a high screenSlam it in her basket like Hakeem, call it hoop dreamsAlley-ooping, a franchise player on any teamBut I’m glad it’s mine...nah’mean!CHORUSLemme tell you ‘bout a girl named...I wanna girl with a…Oh, girl…Lemme tell you ‘bout a girl named...I’d be in trouble if you leave me now…Git it girl!OUTRO [Postell]Yo, B Side, this beat sound like 1989Yo baby, I’ma sing it to you like this one time.It go…You! You got what I needBut you say he’s just a friendYeah, you say he’s just a friendOh baby, you! You got what I needBut you say he’s just a friendYeah, you say he’s just a...friendI love…Love…Girls, girls, girls, girls!

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PIANO INTRO [Adrianne Duncan]VERSE 1 [Postell]If L-I-F-E were the SAT exam I wouldn’t test greatCP Time - I’d probably show up to the test lateMy problems, I don’t even tell to my best matesI hold all of my troubles up tight to my breast plateFeels like a dead weight pressed against meI’m convinced the only way to deal with it all eventuallyIs to ‘not’ - Repress it all ‘til I explode from my self hateA douchebag with no breaks. Stuck in a Kanye West-stateCall it Illinois. Like I get no realer joy Than to make you sick and aggravated - ill and annoyedCrash to Earth like an asshole asteroidEnough bad deeds to make the good ones null and voidStay addicted to these stress relieversInhale all my anxieties while blown out sativaYES!...You’re now rockin’ with the BestOf the Worst. It’s still a ‘best’ I guessMore or LessCHORUSCross the line one to many timesIf it was yours now I know it’s minePretty sure that I lost my mind (mind)More or LessMore or LessMore or LessMore or LessVERSE 2 Prost! To your foes that are itchin to roast youThey push you to excellence so to them you should toast toFunny, the ones we love, who we should be the most close toAre the folks we treat the most cruel - In the worldLike my girl, to whom I should be muhf*ckin’ gratefulShe a blast but in the past I’ve been less than faithfulEverything good in my life, I think I’m thankfulFillin’ up on contentment but can’t seem to keep my muhf*ckin’ tank fullOr my bank full - sure, I’m a triple threatBut still a slave to debt like I got shackles ‘round my ankles“I want that old thing back”...I’m talkin’ bout my moneySoon as I get new stacks, I spend ‘em like a dummyGuess you could call me a work in progressA boxer with a mean right hook who’s still got no leftDuckin’ and bobbin’ and weavin’ till I got no breathFightin’ to the death but still freshMore or LessCHORUSCross the line one to many timesIf it was yours now I know it’s minePretty sure that I lost my mind (mind)More or LessMore or LessMore or LessMore or LessVERSE 3 You’re your own worst enemy?! - Try being your own terrorist“You got self esteem issues”, says my psychotherapistI’m f*cked up! And I’m aware that itsGonna take more than a couple hundred dollar sessions to take care of thisI live with so much bitternessI feel no one would give a sh*t if I woke up slit my wristStress balled up in my chest, tight as fist Every jam I’ve made to bang in your car thus far is contradicting thisBut what’s the point of mixin’ up a song to make you yawnI’d rather make ‘em ring alarms, something you can sing alongTo. Have you hummin’ like Lena Horne Want you ears to be my 80’s crack whor*s - rhymes that they’ll be fiendin’ onSo keep it goin’ - for you I shoot the giftAnd Set Adrift on Me Memory Bliss so we can rock it to the PM DawnAnd even if I am depressed, just know I’ll always give you more, know it or notMore or LessCHORUSCross the line one to many timesIf it was yours now I know it’s minePretty sure that I lost my mind (mind)More or LessMore or LessMore or LessMore or Less

11.

VERSE 1I drop funny rhymes and punchlines like my mouth is my anusRest In Peace to Harold RamusWhat’s the point of livin’? Givin’ it all when it’s all aimlessMore futile ruse than the illusion of bein’ famousAt times it feels unfair we were born in this cold worldSo I commiserate with Chan Marshall - That’s my homegirlCaught in the rat race, when things slow downWe catch brunch at Fellini’s in Atlanta - our hometownPonce de Leon local. Barely remember when and how we met. sh*t, not even I know nowAll I know is once a year we split a pie, salad, a couple of beersReminisce past and the passing of some of our peersLike my homie Jamal Pryor aka Slo-MoHad them rhymes that was ‘hot fire’But Chan say, “We all live to die. Don’t ask no questions why.Just throw your wine glass for Slo up high”CHORUSWe drink cava the shade of lava out the bottle, like a genieServed buffalo wings by bitches in bikinisOxycontin co*cktails with bellinisOver pizza pie we think on those who diedMe & Chan at Fellini’sVERSE 2 Heroine burin’ too many of my folk in a coffinRest In Peace to Phillip Seymore HoffmanHe remind me of my ace, named Mason AdairMulti-talented, intelligent - I sure wish he were hereThe incarnate definition of having no fear‘Cause he would go like a cart, once you put him gearFeels like a pourin’ out a sip of every beerThat’s why I reminisce with Chan every yearOver a large veggie pie, extra crispy crustChan say she “take country love over city lust any day. It breaks your heart. Tougher than given pills and co*ke up”Feels like she died inside when her and Giovanni broke upIt’s a lot to soak up. We used to toke up Mason got one last taste of ‘H’, took a nap and never woke upAnd every time I think of him I choke upChan say “It’s good to talk about Mason, Jason.Aren’t you glad you spoke up?”CHORUSWe drink cava the shade of lava out the bottle, like a genieServed buffalo wings by bitches in bikinisOxycontin co*cktails with bellinisOver pizza pie we think on those who diedMe & Chan at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe and Cat PowerVERSE 3 Feel like a martian from outer space - It’s so hard concealin’My face to the human race. It’s hard not revealin’The pain that fills up the place of these hard feelin’sSo Rest In Peace to Robin WilliamsChan say “We ALL depressives”. The thought of that is scaryI ain’t Pac - can’t holla loud enough for y’all to hear meNot the only one, we all get weary‘Cept for the purest soul I’ve ever known once owned by Benny TassinariBenny Taz possess the kinda soul that make you go “Oh my Gah!He’s like a mix between Otis Redding and Yo-Yo Ma!”Died of cancer at age thirtyIf songs about you’s the biggest honor, Benny was thirty albums worthyAnd Chan say “We need kinship.Remember Jamal, Mason and Benny Taz when you think of friendship”I told Chan “I’ll think of you. ‘Til our next hiatus.Like the title of your seventh album, Cat, you The Greatest”CHORUSWe drink cava the shade of lava out the bottle, like a genieServed buffalo wings by bitches in bikinisOxycontin co*cktails with bellinisOver pizza pie we think on those who diedMe & Chan at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe and Cat PowerMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe & Chan Marshall at Fellini’sMe and Cat Power

12.

VERSE 1Back to hero from villain - LeBron James-likeGot a feelin’ my team is still in the wrong game (psych!)But for a shilling, still load a shell and take long aimAt any rapper that’s William Shatnerin’ - abstainFrom the theatrics ‘cause I ain’t willin’ to talk tameThey call me HOV - it’s like I got my own laneThe rap jihadist, commit a murder in Gods vainConfess the crime and only give ‘em the songs nameThey want the story straight - I don’t waneFor the dough I kill a Doe. Just don’t know if that hoe was John or JaneI want big bills, all I see is little changeA little cash money but a lot of Lil WaynesHomie, hear what I’m sayin’? Turn up the gain knob while I’m recordin’I’m talkin’ higher than Corey HaimI make bitches scream like Johnny FontaineCall up my crew and go play a Norwegian lawn gameKUBB!CHORUSHow you want it, we can give it to youYou want the raw, off the wall, hot doo-dooThat Oh My God, Allahu Akbar, JujuThat sh*t you ain’t heard since Premiere and GuruIt’s for us, by us - FUBUBetter get my numbers straight like you play sudokuYou think we crazy now, you ain’t seen cuckoo, but…How you want it, we can give it to youVERSE 2 Brooklyn streets - where killers pack pistol heatIt ain’t sweat. The cops are brazen if you’re Black, brown even AsianThey’re blazen. You’ll hit the pavementLike Luther Van, man, it’s so amazin - They’re Hell Raisin’Where the gangtas get admirationWhere catching’ a cold is rarer than catching’ a case andSo they squeeze first. Burst - with no hesitationGet the answers to your questions at 11 on you local TV stationsYoung thuggies lack the patienceThey want their reparations. f*ck waitin!Violent - they grab the iron. Not enough room on this islandTo coexist. Like Dominicans and HatiansYou growin’ up with this imagin’ the frustrationsNow folks throwin’ hissy fits over gentrificationTake it or leave it - make a ghetto migrationWell I’ma take it...who’s with me?C’mon let’s take ‘em!CHORUSHow you want it, we can give it to youYou want the raw, off the wall, hot doo-dooThat Oh My God, Allahu Akbar, JujuThat sh*t you ain’t heard since Premiere and GuruIt’s for us, by us - FUBUBetter get my numbers straight like you play sudokuYou think we crazy now, you ain’t seen cuckoo, but…How you want it, we can give it to youBREAKMoney grownin’ like grass with the...VERSE 3 TOTAL CHAOS! Nothin’ can save or protect you from The JujuHip hop hoodoo - my voodoo scriptureThat old black magic elixir - Your girl sips the nectar?It’s a wrap! No way that you can protect herMore disorder than a horror motion pictureMy words are the images, but the beat is the film projectorof my ghetto action adventure. I’m the directorOf these herringbone flows - up close you can feel the textureSave the lecture. Schools out for the semesterSince our black president bounced, these crackers been actin’ extraWanna get a banana clip, fill the tech upLike Malcolm El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz after he went to MeccaJust keep it sunny like HonoluluNo disrespect but go suck a dick, like Lieutenant SuluDon’t make me treat you like you a Tutsi and I’m a HutuBut how you want it, we can give it to youCHORUS 2xHow you want it, we can give it to youYou want the raw, off the wall, hot doo-dooThat Oh My God, Allahu Akbar, JujuThat sh*t you ain’t heard since Premiere and GuruIt’s for us, by us - FUBUBetter get my numbers straight like you play sudokuYou think we crazy now, you ain’t seen cuckoo, but…How you want it, we can give it to youOUTRO [Malcolm X AKA El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz]...this is love talk...

13.

VERSE 1Granddaddy’s name was Jimmie, Grandpapa’s name was WilsonBoth of ‘em serious. Also silly as Leslie Nielsen‘Specially Jimmie. Funniest dude I ever metIf he was jonein’ you, that sh*t would rival Richard Pryors bestAnd I was barely six, behind the ears soaken wetAggy. Not known him crackin’ at me was how he loved me. YES!If you was alive I swear I’d strive to make you laugh.All the folks you split in half...I know that’s how I’d (Pay you back!)Jimmie loved ladies. Was faithful - most his life. Had a falling out with Ma about his mistress when the sickness took his wifeObserving Jimmie I became a flirtMuch to the chagrin of my girl, every chic, precious pearl and dame that I’ve hurtWhupped me when I lied. Said “A guys word, he keeps‘Cause if a mans word ain’t nan - he shouldn’t drop his jaw to speak”Died of cancer still laughin’. At what I’ll never be sureBut what I know is that if I become half the man that you were maybe I’ll...CHORUS(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) No way that I can(Pay You Back) But I promise you(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) I know I’ll never(Pay You Back) Still I promise to(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) No way I’ll ever(Pay You Back) But I swear it too‘Cause I. O. U.VERSE 2 Grandpapa’s name was Wilson, Granddaddy’s name was JimmieBoth proud family men who couldn’t fix their mouths to say gimme‘Specially Wilson - O.G. model of the self madeMan with a well playedPlan as he Hell raised!Damnation! Preacher of higher educationWent from teachin’ at all, to principal to school board chairmanKinda reminded me of Michael Corleone in his chair, manLegs crossed. The Boss - “Never put anything before the fam”Highly decorated World War II veteran, played the better manEven when unfit white boys were promoted ahead of himSee, Wilson was hard-headed, razor-sharp wittedAuthentic, when he smiled - Wow! That’s probably where I get itAnd Aunt Loretta forgave him for suggesting Cousin Raymond Be adopted. A child born out of wedlock for him was awkwardMy Pop wept when his father died. Barely 5’9” but a giant in our eyesLong as I’m alive, I swear to God I’m gonna...CHORUS(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) No way that I can(Pay You Back) But I promise you(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) I know I’ll never(Pay You Back) Still I promise to(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) No way I’ll ever(Pay You Back) But I swear it too‘Cause I. O. U.VERSE 3 My Pops - they called him Phil. Ma - her name was DelorisThey fell in love in a rush, in fever, they couldn’t believe it. They married, of courseHoneymoons over. Then comes fightin’ and yellin’ and screamin’ till they were hoarsePhil and Deloris move to Decatur then 7 years later, they got divorcedTwo little black boys - left like latch key kids to pick up the piecesMama found rage and depression to cope. Forgiving him? Nope! So Papa found JesusGuess he had too many demons. Ma had so many issues. Too many reasons whySurprised they stayed together this long, kept on for so many seasonsOlder son watching the younger one threw off the glovesh*t him the first time the younger one stole, beat him the first time he caught him with drugsPushed and he shoved. Punched him until there was blood. Naw, he never gave hugsMakin’ him tougher than leather, that’s how the older son showed the younger one loveParents, Big Brother and Younger wish they could spin it back and restartBut it’s okay, like Big Boi and Dre would say “Storytellings an Art”When it got dark and they were scarred, they never fell completely apartThe cuts were sharp but thanks to them I got this bulletproof heartI.O.U.CHORUS(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) No way that I can(Pay You Back) But I promise you(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) I know I’ll never(Pay You Back) Still I promise to(Pay You Back) I can’t(Pay You Back) No way I’ll ever(Pay You Back) But I swear it too‘Cause I. O. U.

14.

MOVEMENT ONEVERSE 1 [Postell]I’m horror, paranormal rapper from AmityvilleWho’s bout to start a movement of nigg*s like Emmett TillWhat The f*ck! - Just a bag o’ nut. Bitch, you broke the sealJust makin’ forward thinkin’ music with a retro feelMe and my partner B Side make classics stillHe’s Erick. I’m Parrish. The rest of y’all nigg*s best ta chillI stays up in puss*. Call me massengillMoney ain’t grownin’ like grass, but it’s still green - mass appealI got charisma in the bank - 20 trillHit up my homie Kate Stone. She got a flask of Makers. What the dealIs? She says “Let’s hit the Guggenheim!” That’s surrealnessBourbon got us bouncin’ off the walls like some happy mealKids! Show y’all little niglets how to do this thangAnd love the life you live. Word to my homie Benton GreeneThey never look to me to say, he the epitome of rapSo while I wake ‘em up, y’all go take a nap (f*ckahs!)CHORUS [NOTE]Y’all stay on top what the web sayWhile we play crochet sippin’ roséCall us weird, fine dawg, that’s okayFleetwood Mac “You can go your own way”Y’all must be gone on that JoséThinkin’ that we care what you hoes sayJosé - hoes say a lotStill, we don’t care what you hoes sayNawVERSE 2 [Postell]“How they be ackin’ so strange, yet so arrogant?”Shout to The Retar Crew, my band of merry menSpreadin’ merriment from Chi to Bed-Stuy, the hoodThey say that we a problem but I say that problems goodAmazing Spidey spectacular, Green Goblin goodYour bitch is lucky if she sucks our dicks - Knock on woodCher chez la femmes get the kiss of death like, “Mwah”Slummin’ through your village like we from the De-ToitHitsville USA soul-sound. We goin’ Barry Gordy on you shortyG’s up and Hoes downJ, Jax, G and Clay - they the Tracey Morgans to my Tina FeyIf you ain’t know hoe, then you know nowThis is the showdown, rap weirdos verse wack fellasCan’t be held responsible, we doin what the tracks tell usWord to Dirty Curt - y’all should throw in the towelCause I’m bout to get alcohol poisonin’ right now!CHORUS [NOTE]Y’all stay on top what the web sayWhile we play crochet sippin’ roséCall us weird, fine dawg, that’s okayFleetwood Mac “You can go your own way”Y’all must be gone on that JoséThinkin’ that we care what you hoes sayJosé - hoes say a lotStill, we don’t care what you hoes sayNawMOVEMENT TWO[B Side w/ Pos]MOVEMENT THREE[Adrianne Duncan]

15.

My people…My people…My people…...my folks

16.

[Pos & Jess]We’ll never be what we once were…...We’ll always be what we are now…[Slick Rick]…”You love ‘em too much. And they don’t love you anymore”...

released March 24, 2020

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Artist:
Postell

Album:
Hot Sauce From Hell

Producers:
All songs produced by B Side for Select Personnel Productions
All songs co-produced by Postell Pringle for jimmie & wilson productions

Song Credits:
All songs written by J. Pringle, B Side
Published by Mister from Decatur Music (BMI) / B Side (control)

*Except_
‘Hot Sauce’ written by J. Pringle, B Side, D. Jones
Published by Mister from Decatur Music (BMI) / B Side (control)

‘Game I’ll Never Win’ written by J. Pringle, B Side, A. Lewis
Published by Mister from Decatur Music (BMI) / B Side (control)

Musicians:
Beats + Music programming: B Side
Additional beats + music programming + editing: Postell Pringle
Sitar: Ronobir Lahiri
Piano & Keys: Adrianne Duncan
Additional Keys: Conor O’Brien, Postell Pringle
Vocal Turntables: Postell Pringle
Featured Guest Vocals: NOTE - Tha Rydah, Lil RASPY, Jessica Healy
Backing Vocals: Angela Lewis, Jessica Healy, Lil RASPY, Postell Pringle, Otis Pringle

Recording:
Recorded + Engineered by Postell Pringle at Robin’s Nest (Litchfield, CT) and La Casa De Halsey (Brooklyn, NY).

Mixing:
Mixed by B Side at Sea Side Studios, Los Angeles, CA

Mastering:
Mastered by Postell Pringle at La Casa De Halsey in Brooklyn, NY and Oaxaca, MX

*Salsa From Hell (the prequel)
Re-Mastered by B Side at Sea Side Studios, Los Angeles

Cover Art/Design:
Cover Photography by Jaka Vinsek (jakavinsek.com)
Art Direction / Cover Design by Kate Stone (katestone.net)

Thank You’s:
Select Personnel Productions, Ronobir Lahari, Jessica Healy, Angela Lewis, NOTE, Adrianne Duncan, Lil RASPY, Kate Stone, Jaka Vinsek, Conor (K-man) O’Brian, Alex Duncan (DJ Alex D #1), Rap Pack (FKA The Retar Crew), Q Brothers Collective, Morgan Liu-Packard, Phil Darovic, GQ, Jackson Doran, JQ, Clayton Stamper, Nuff Noise, 4D Thievz, KingSound, No Spec, Malo, 2Chill, Jabari, Al Tariq Robinson, Jeff Smack, Frank Manja, Big Brother Phil Pringle (KING), Alexis Gargagliano, Robin Silvestri, Soul, Taro, Otis & Benedetta Pringle, Johnny Iguana, DJ SUPERNOVA, Nikkie Richardson aka NuCents, Josh Senior of Senior Post, Christopher Ciancimino, Evette Rios, Chan Marshall

RIP:
John Mahaffey, Jamal Pryor aka Slo-Mo, Mason Adair, Benjamin Tassinari, Malcolm Devine, Dave Doran

Executive Producers:
Postell Pringle for jimmie & wilson productions and B Side for Select Personnel Productions

Hot Sauce From Hell

HSFH Intro
On Da Move, Pt 4 (Ode to GURU)
Osiris
Darlin’ Nicki feat. Ronobir Lahiri & Lil RASPY
Game I’ll Never Win
Ballad 43 Revisited
Greg Nice Advice (on da move interlude)
Hot Sauce feat. NOTE - Tha Rydah
Gotta Girl
More or Less
Fellini’s (Me & Chan)
The Juju
I.O.U.
José feat. NOTE - Tha Rydah & Adrianne Duncan
HSFH Outro

Time After Crime feat. Jessica Healy [Bonus Track]