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Fight For Peace EP

by BigMo • Samarei

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    Fight For Peace EP (Limited Edition USB) includes:

    •Fight For Peace EP
    •Lyric-Artwork
    •Digital Copy of the 'F4P' Visual Exhibit from M Love

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1.
Fight for peace, pray for war even on the streets, ever think what for? uncle sam wants that black gold, on the streets they want that dope, media treats like you don’t know, lie to your face through that black hole, soon as the red dot on they hitting all dot coms and I’m stuck between light skinned dude singing real dark songs dont be alarmed, though I can be wrong I’m just a normal human being ready to bust out my seems always got something to say ‘bout the place I’m from split product of double dealing, UK busy lying stealing, streaming tracks from kuwait to egypt, still manage to not defeat ‘em, We rich, we paid, as long as they live the american way, as long as they do what the americans say, all ya’ll live all ya’ll get paid, Pop bottles; rose water top models; ya’ll martyrs pour some out for the dearly departed, put some up for those dealing with hardship. Great grandfather hid notes under the carpet, rice and sugar untaxed to the market, I’m a rebel born, since the spring it’s been on, since I was born, I knew I would spark it, fuel to the flame, remember my name, writ of all trades, though my writs not for trade, switched it up, so my writs not the same, I still put it out, and it hits with a bang. some dislike, refuse discourse, cause I’m forward, and I expect more, of people, who still say we don”t believe you theorize conspiracies, poke holes that you can see through, say I place blame on the west, all the brands from the west, brought from east to the west, exploit the east for the west, you see it all on TV, what you see is what you get, I just hope that you get the real thing
2.
Pray For War 02:27
Fight for peace, Pray for war, Sand and heat, what they need it all for? Got plenty of that black gold, Flooded ‘til their ankles, Let’s take it like they won’t know, lie to their face through that black hole, Soon as the red dot on, We hitting all dot coms, we gon’ teach our teens, how to hate and kill, give all of them arms, don’t be alarmed, soon you’ll all be gone, we tell them you’re savages ready to bust, shots ring, then we’ll move into all of your homes, Product of what we preach, we’ll go to war for peace, propagate all of our enemies, convince them that this is what they need, Get rich, get paid, as long as you live the American way, as long as you do what the Americans say, we’ll let you live, maybe let you stay, Pop bottles; we’re heartless, top models; make martyrs, pour some out for all the departed, point your guns at those dealing with hardship, History of fathers, swept under the carpet, tax rice and sugar on its way to the market, kill and slay the labels, call a whole race terrorists like America fought for independence from the Brits, We get the people to foot the bill, We watch them drown from the top of the hill, lie to our own, while we lie cheat and steal make it propaganda, put it on a reel, Fuel to the flame, erased all the names, the writs all the same, just reverse all the blame put it on a record so the truth comes straight, They’re still droppin bombs and they hit with a bang, some dislike, we dont discourse, we look forward to it, and we want more, waxed surface with a rotten core, we fight for peace, but we pray for war Pop bottles; we’re heartless, top models; make martyrs, pour some out for all the departed, point your guns at those dealing with hardship
3.
Granted 02:58
Situation, I shouldn’t take it for granted, one granted me all my wishes, and put me at an advantage, caught myself slipping, like replays on camera, mistakes made, judgement, friends dropped their gavels, send illusions of Babylon, all of the roads I traveled, giving voice. still viewed as a vagabond, backgrounds as they laugh along, didn’t think that I’d last, waiting on this scholarship, to kick off, on a path that one thinks a scholar lives, spending my days in class, darkness in front of books, rather be on a chromebook, preparing for the booth, in both I pursue the truth, both should be considered scholarly, scholars hear that I rap and they mock, they want no part of it, rappers poke fun at the truth, here I’ll hand you the cue, cause rapper poke fun at the truth, like they don’t know what to do, and the scholars don’t understand structure outside their schools, scores, screw it, think they’re stuck up, response is rude, plus, it’s never you, unless you can leverage the fees, advances and loans, see money’s the only key, to open these people’s minds, see enough for a degree, hope to peek, on how to stay off these cold streets, takes time to heel like reefs, still poke aimlessly, they say fight for your country, let’s see what the homeless think, One trillion in debt, act like shit smells like potpourri the Malek Alloula of rap, deciphering what your culture sees, I’d rather show you, an alternative view, nirvana to pews, teen spirit’s the truth, qitra’s to plad, still rockin the white and red, I battled myself, in an effort to present to you
4.
Extra, extra, Read all about it: Let’s not feed the poor, put it all into congress, I’m a put this verse on the wall for the populace, If you don’t know, shut your mouth, don’t talk shit. See, John’s an alcoholic, lost his home, and his money and his wallet, At war, in search of some more, Than his little-bitty-town had to offer, Coffins, stuffed with promises, Terrorizing terrorists, Rid the world of haji’s, The missions result: a hit-and-miss, Dreamed of the Marines, from teen, propaganda, The few and the proud, can’t sleep ‘cause they’re anxious, Murals paint blood in their dreams, Friends and enemies killed, fill the scenes, Can’t sleep, can’t work, So he’s homeless, “Too bad,” House took, Bank says that your loans cooked, Card board signs, Middle fingers to the crooks, Gave his life for what he thought was his land, He got duped, Now, he sleeps on the stoop, Wakes up to the boot of a cop, Crack of dawn, can’t sleep, screams shew, What do you do when you know that they don’t know better? Programmed since a gland, ain’t crossed no rivers, Salute Uncle Sam, smoke dope, drink liquor, Promises of stolen-land, sold-souls, wins sinner, Place it in the theme of fight for peace, John prays for war, so he can get a piece of the action without prep. to reap what he’s sowed, to his own faction, his only weakness is gold.
5.
Dance 03:15
I could bring ya’ll the truth, ya’ll just wanna get it. step one step two, face off, all yall giggin, don’t care what’s real, the bass only kills, base the basis on pills, ya’ll ain’t listening still, ya’ll ain’t making mils, temporary displacement, trust economic scales, tipped in one side’s favor, some do the rain dance, and make it rain for dollars, go on drop them pants, go on empty all your wallets, Ye says we’re slaves, Ye how much money you make? 300k in sales OK Ye you’re doin’ okay, I don’t mean to mock, but I’m a need a mop, this beat is wet, I killed the beat, Sammy don’t stop. Dance, all ya’ll wanna dance, go on shake that ass, so you can do it all again, Dance, all ya’ll wanna dance, go on shake their hands Say thank you til’ you come agaim. I could bring ya’ll the ticket, but ya’ll just wanna gig it, step one step two, face off, miley get naked, don’t care whats in it, dance, and chase the rythm hands will make her dance, said sam made the beat and kissed it, bend over back to shake they hands, claim you doin it for bands, get up on the stage and you stand, salute them to come again, literally call you a hoe, treat you like you’re not in the know, like you’re under educated, or perpotrate, your lack of traits to tell them no, but they thank you if you make it, middle fingers if you missed it, they love promoting gimmicks, like booty, drugs, and liquor, and we bought it all so blindly, do anything for money, an illusion that’s so kindly, made for us to look like dummies, and we dance Shake that ass, now dance.
6.
Ay Shay 03:05
Back home in kuwait, we say, ayshay When it’s wack really wack, we say ay shay, yall say, ayshay forv b b money in the rags,its so ay shay, songs on the radio, ay shay everything getting played, im like ay shay, tune in everyday im like, ay shay so sick of hearing all of this, ay shay, im not impressed, they play ay shay, keep real, know your place, know when it’s wise to vacate, and its never real to just stay fake, I’m stuck in this pool, not much else to do, but just start a clean slate, I surfed all the bars, learned all the rules, now I got a whole state, Some talk too much, start beef, and in the game have no stake, no say, not enough to make my bars break, this beat shakes, you want catchy, I got it, I can provide the product, without resorting to nonsense, sick of being modest, getting slick at poppin knowledge, If I disguised it as molly, yall ready to pop it, stop it, taking insults in awfully oddly, dancin to insult, westside to the gulf coast, got you calling your girls hoes, (I guess) these days anything goes, (Ayshay) yall party, (dance,) go on throw up your hands, they tell you you aint shit, still do it on command, anything to be on stage, be part of a brand, it’s ayshay, what’s worse? they’re only Man. (HOOK) The rap game’s a piss contest, not based on any content, bought and sold on every continent, profit concentrate, very marginal, Ask Sumner Redstone, Ask Gerald Levin, ask them about the 7, ask them about intentions, What they do with attention, what viacom did to Rev Run, they own everything on the radio, Tv, dot com, to you it’s 99 cents, to them it’s profit in net, sign the contract, sell your soul, tighten that noose around your neck, Now they rewrote history, and erased all of the facts, went to war, stole all of the artifacts, now they’ve taken rap, im hanging on by a shoe lace, slowly pulling it back, wasn’t doubled, im in trouble constantly gettin’ set back, refuse to go back to the struggle, im not on my last lap, it’s a rap, everything is simply ayshay after that
7.
Extra extra, read all about it, let’s not feed the poor, put it all into congress. I’m a put this verse on the wall for the populace, if you don’t know, shut your mouth, don’t talk shit. Sally is a crack head, but sally has two kids, one on the way, sally and fam are SNAP fed, EBT, Food Stamps, Federal taxes, Sally works, that feeds her habit, rents always late, don’t always have a mattress, mom smokes, kids don’t, they’re all missing breakfast, now let’s cut assistance and send it all to congress, They don’t care, watching rich get richer, passing bills, watching sick get sicker, they’re calling them lazy, they don’t get the picture, aired out on fox, so sad, how we depict them, they need, no secret, some demons, exist and we know it, but we can’t suppress freedoms, if judges ain’t piss testing, the poor shouldn’t either, everyday a politicians caught with some secrets, But we’re busy, comparing collar colors, blue is a laborer, commoner, trying to get by on the white collar government, Corps and the Gov’s are the same if you’re wondering Soon as a corporation isn’t treated as a man, or we start to corporation up in a federal pen, even then, you still won’t have a valid argument, about tax dollars wasted on the less fortunate.
8.
School sucks, day one, half way through the syllabus and my days gone, rather be in the studio, could’ve knocked out three songs, but I’m sitting here taking notes on Ph bond, How could I say this any clearer, rather put school in my rear view mirror, stuck supporting the machine, just following the leader, debt adds, feds profit, none go to the teach, One trill, that’s mad trill, One trillion in debt, we aint mad still, pay it til your dead, no 11th title, bankrupt, too bad, pay the damn bill, keys, cars, house, yup all theirs, bills built so heavy into anvils, they just adjust your mood with prescribed pills, then you go back to work to prescribe pills, take bribes for deals, lie cheat and steal, to make a few dimes, convert a couple mills, but that won’t cover interest, loans are bad deals, first steps to get your questioning. what’s real, what’s not real No school cause I dropped out No rules I’m the boss now Writing raps till I’m doomed can’t stop now In tuned come consume my supply cause the crop loud Smokey rooms in mood got me stocked out Not to many options when your broke with empty pockets, School won’t keep the lights on, homies tell me stop it, Everybody tryna knock him go around an jock him, Push him on the floor Demotivate and stop him, Next thing you know prolly drop out and clock in, school sucks at least I’m getting paid and rockin shows every other night patients is a problem sick of waiting ima reach my goals for my mama Probably harder then you’ll ever be and honestly this prodigy is taking off like rocketry Look for me in the sky higher than I ot to be visions of the prophecies had led him on this odyssey So here I stay stumbling Hustling, day an night I’m struggling to stay alive and functioning this way of life is humbling Cause Less money in my pockets makes everyday a different way to go and make some profit. No school cause I dropped out No rules I’m the boss now Writing raps till I’m doomed can’t stop now In tuned come consume my supply cause the crop loud Smokey rooms in mood got me stocked out They sell knowledge for profit, flipped it to change in my pocket, I making the system work for me, writing in trade for dollars, driving to Portland on Fridays, Rise and leave with the sun, til Sunday, where the week ended, off at the shot of the gun, it barely ends then begun, another day gotta run, can’t keep the air in my lungs, the fat lady still aint sung, if you finish last you get hung, at least you will in my path, won’t hurt to read a book, not required by class, don’t need school to learn, that’s the route that I took, found a way to pay the bills, and make a living off books, look, the verse goes deeper than the hook, don’t lettem judge your first look, they want it for themselves, bunch of crooks
9.
Blue Monk 03:12
Stop, tryna stop my profits, Get your hands out of my pocket, Cease blockin’ money from entering my wallet, Young cats tryna get it, got it proper. When the government is interfering with business, Acting racist and everybody’s a witness, If there was a good cop, a cop would say this, “Someone’s got a grudge, Tell the judge about this hater,” Want a formal complaint? Here’s one! We peacefully congregate, They bring assault bring guns, Drawn, donned in swat uniforms, Stop traffic to the block, Like we did something wrong, Hold on, Who’s got the guns? Who’s causing a scene, and wasting public funds? Who’s intimidating, making our fans run? They show up, sit in the back, I hope your having fun, You’re the worst Hip-Hop head, Only know the smut, and want Hip-Hop dead, Thinkin were gangsters wanting Hip-Hop cred, Ignorant to the effect of what Hip-Hop did, This is what Hip-Hop is! HOOK How can small business profit when bullied by these watchmen? We simply bringing artist, put money in their parchments, Trying to keep on the celly, and the heat in our apartments, But you come in rocking skullys telling me that I’m dishonest? Painted so many lies, couldn’t see truth if you cropped it, Can’t blame the fans, fearing another cop slips, Finger to the trigger, lack of grip, proof of violence, Exactly what you wanted, delivered to your highness, Serving a higher power, screw the public, you’re conman, Power tripping, killing buzzes, taking it from our hands, Never silent, never violent, never with the program, You’re a coward, music’s only member in my gang, You got your job and I got mine, I fight for peace, our purposes don’t align, You pray for a piece to go off, so you’re right, Stop hindering my profits, don’t care for your reason why, You’ve got to stop.

about

'Fight For Peace' is a critical and conscious school of thought that delves into the prevalent issues we are facing individually, economically, environmentally and as a society. All set to a backdrop of varying soundscapes with organic instrumentation and hints of bass & synth.

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released July 4, 2014

Executive Producers: Green Luck Media Group & Samarei Music
Written by: Mohammed Alkhadher
Composed by: Sam Waldo
Produced by: Sam Waldo (Samarei Music) & Bryce Trost (GLMG)

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BigMo (GLMG) Al Asimah, Kuwait

Mohammed “BigMo the Nomadic” Alkhadher, born on July 9th, 1990 in Jackson, Mississippi to a Kuwaiti father & an American mother. The 21-year-old international musician, producer, and songwriter made his home and set his roots in Kaifan before attending undergraduate college at Portland State University from 2007-2012. He frequently travels around the U.A.E. and US, earning his title, The Nomadic. ... more

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