GOLDHILL GULCH

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Mr. Yote

Mr. Yote is a musical artist known for his experimental and boundary-pushing style. He incorporates elements of hip-hop, electronic music, and avant-garde sounds in his music. His lyrical content often tackles themes of existentialism, societal critique, and personal introspection. Mr. Yote is recognized for his unique and distinctive vocal delivery, which ranges from rapid-fire rapping to melodic singing. He has gained a cult following for his unconventional and innovative approach to music. more »

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We was digging creeks rowdy and roam
Thick hook line down them sewers and sinks
Been bugging been running where them ghoulies was deep
Couple tick, fleas on em kept the noggins a think
Big wheels, big steel kept the palm on em' heat
Wrist raw, blister pop like they covered in sweets
Had them rope swings clenched going hard on them cheeks and full blast
But them ties dropped souls in a blink
Pockets full of toads, couple lizards on leash
Them fingertips frowned by that warden in reach and still we been
Rather ruff where logic and brain cease
Wrote tales like them puppies in heat (Heat exhaustion/hallucinations)
We was from that third valley past the rubbage and grass
Them barn yards scold the imagery crass
Fresh tar, drill doze, cut the cattle in half
Spill bowl, yard roll, had them hearded like calf that lost mum
The plan on the top stump, them hidded in log huts
Lost cubs running ruckus amuck
The wind from the hills rung, the mill and the fan flung
Gold stands had em running it up
Them boys found footing we jumped and took to it
Post flag so they know it is us
Found meadows I packed and took to em
Years passed had em hollering hyugh

Now them kiddies timid, Bone pinching the gizzard
Skip lunch, dinner, all cus of that mister here
Snip, snip, see buddy them old thighs is
Two foot sturdy the spur on them old heels is pure
Dawgs kick it, laws of the land rigid it's
None shed coat on the bluff, no we don't spin that wheel
No blemish, shutters they stay cased cus it's
Too, too cold of a train you know them hides is real
That's fresh mink that comes with the pressed hiss on it
Two critters that roam in me arm pits often
All alarmed the sight of them short fries
That's too many times them peasants won't step, stoop to him
That's too many peasants that never could let loose on him

Now see those palms used to be, a bit feathered
But poof gone it's settled by boys running that metal
Stick twigs, never once licked fists for cheddar
Them beefed hands was imminent here
Them boys roam no meddlesome tiers
No chieftain was eminent here
Just free fade and wrestling peers
That squad just ran rough rummaged and bubble gut barged through it

The land of the rogue rats and menaces here
The land of them low lifes no benefits clear to latch to it
That garden of doom, that hue in the mist
That dirt and the grit, it does do it
Been gutter, been breed from the puddle of still stool
Still brothers, been formed by the graft of the branch bloom
All-weather arms tethered and
And still we take pride full strife when knowing we rose to it
It's them village boys carved all in it
Know them black tops stained the blood and the sweat in it
Couple village boys dawgs prowl in it
Know them pups been packed like nuts with the peas in em boi

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