If You Can Hear This

by Dug & Happy Tooth

/
  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Comes in a shrink wrapped sleeve with artwork by BAIRbrains.

    Includes unlimited streaming of If You Can Hear This via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 4 days
    edition of 199 

      $6 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $5 USD  or more

     

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.

about

This is a the first collaboration and release from the solo rappers Dug and Happy Tooth, without the rest of their band, Happy Tooth & Dug. There's local features from Columbus rappers Hyphon, Jae Esquire, and the Momus. And to top it all off Lethal FX, a beatboxer from Columbus, produced the beats for this entire project.

credits

released March 8, 2016

All lyrics written by Dug and Happy Tooth.
Other then what Jae Esquire, Hyphon, and the Momus contributed.
Additional gang vocals on "Stoop Kid!" by Jack Zackory, and Miles Purdy.
Edited, recorded, and arranged by Happy Tooth.
Beats produced by Lethal FX.
Mixed by Ryan Liptak and then mastered by Mark Abrams at Vaughan Music Studios. Album art by BairBrains. (www.bairbrains.com)

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Happy Tooth Columbus, Ohio

Happy Tooth is a poet/rapper/fatalist from Columbus, Ohio. He enjoys long verses about beaches and candle lit lunches. He's in a band he started with his friend Dug, called Happy Tooth & Dug. He also makes solo music as well and he has a record produced by the mythical Bum Theory coming out soon! ... more

contact / help

Contact Happy Tooth

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: If You Can Hear This (ft. Jae Esquire)
(Chorus)
If you can hear this everything's going perfectly,
currently, nobody's trying to murder me.
If you can hear this, we did at least one thing right.
If you can hear this it raises our spirits,
even if there's interference that's how it is with lyrics.
If you can hear this, everything'll probably be fine.

(Dug)
It's either write about the typical things
or you might as well have written in invisible ink.
I do this cause I can't afford to visit a shrink,
and cause I know I'm not the only one who lives on the brink.
Like with a mailbox waiting for the saucers to come.
Or the economy or something else impossibly dumb.
If you can hear this,
I hope you know better.
But most days I don't so really no pressure.
We played shows, people showed.
That means we achieved our goals.
I don't know where else to go.
You were friendly, we weren't ready.
I know I'll probably never drive a Bentley.
But at least the seats aren't empty in the Chevy.
They say the music scene isn't what it used to be.
But that would be true, even if it improved.
So I'm not sure what that proves to me.
You bring the community,
we'll bring the tunes and lunacy.

(Chorus)

(Happy Tooth)

My life is full of garbage I haven't thrown away.
Though I may be broke today
I have a place to go and stay.
So afraid of the folks they overpay
I'm givin advice to kids like,
put down the Vicodin and learn to play the violin.
Find a pen.
This goes without saying.
If you can hear this there's always something worth saying.
Waiting, wasting, waning,
lying like we found somethin.
Smiling, driving diving, dying
not to malfunction.
Listen all ya'll its a bad mirage.
My catalog is sabotage
it's always raining cats and dogs.
And you don't have to leave,
but you can't stay here.
If you can hear this I hope you're having a great year.
Shakespeare died.
All alone in an alley,
I'm just part of the algae.
They won't write books about me.
Howling at the moon while my life corrodes.
If you can hear this,
success came a long time ago.

(Chorus)

(Jae Esquire)

Homie I'm good.
Homie I'm straight.
Homie I'm full.
Yeah I ate today.
I said, homie I'm good.
Homie I'm straight.
Homie I'm full.
Yeah I ate today.
Hey, hey,
October, fallen like no other.
All gold everything,
you a shiny muthafucka.
Got me on a new level,
beats bang in my trucka,
157's now,
I'm a jazzy muthafucka uh
Not trippin,
middle name is forgiveness.
Gold eagle round my neck,
flyin high above the pigeons.
Yah, storm find ya damaged in the yard.
Respect my name before you all take guard.
Come harder than you ever,
ever could silly.
Didn't you know that rabbit tricks are for kiddies?
Who I got with me?
Yeah the dream team,
Happy Tooth and Dug, yeah we get that cream.
Naw mean? Ay!
Track Name: This Is A Song. (ft. the Momus)
(Chorus)
This is a song to forget all of your problems to.
This is a bomb, kinda like what you'd see on the news.
This is a song to forget all of your problems to.
Nowadays we don't really got a lot to lose.
This is a song to forget all of your problems to.
Everything can only get better I promise you.
This is a song for all the homies in denial.
That know nobody can reconcile with just a smile.

(Happy Tooth)
I don't wanna write about how great I am.
Or how I hate the man but this cage is cramped.
Or how my favorite band is gonna play again
but no one will stay for them.
Sometimes I hate this pen with my patience thin.
Face displays a razor grin,
some lights are made to dim.
So I'm fading then,
but wait a bit for the blazing end.
It's all fake pretend,
like the money at the bottom of my pockets.
Showin up late again,
feels funny calling all of my problems topics.
Fuck these troubles,
bloody knuckles,
punctured muscles,
stepped in muddy puddles,
no one wants to struggle,
rappin over stomach rumbles.
Sick of distrust,
living cigarette butts.
Always stuck in the same shit,
the prison is us.
We don't stand a damn chance
writing what your hands cant.
Self expressions violent like a slam dance.
It's hard to move on and not do wrong
when everything's cruel life becomes
a long blues song.
Truths gone,
and I've been a basket case
that's half awake.
So everyone just back away.
I rap about reality,
guess that I always will.
It's either that get paid hourly,
die, or swallow pills.
It's all for thrills
or maybe over-indulgence.
There's no way to solve this
with hopeless impulses.
I wanna write about how all my ghosts are dead
and I can go to bed overfed
with no regrets in my broken head.

(Chorus)

(the Momus)

Now I've wandered aimlessly,
and I've pondered just the same.
Often laundered shamelessly,
while I"m squanderin for change.
But my honors just the same,
cause there's honor in the shame.
There's shame in our pride
and there's pride in our pain.
Too much pride in this game.
Too much time spent in vain.
Wasted time to explain
reasons why I don't change.
Guess I'll die just the same
with my past life to blame.
Like to say I'd be amazed
if no ones cryin at my grave.
To desire I'm enslaved,
entire life I have craved.
Lightin pipes night and day
until I'm tyin off my veins.
Fight or flight,
still ingrained.
Yes I like to escape,
like to fade away,
like the pain at bay,
but the pain remains.
So words I wrote,
words of hope.
Alongside hurtful words I spoke.
Word as hope
is just a hurtful joke.
A long time spent just hurtin folks.
A long line of amends,
a road to friends or foe
to mend my woes,
yet another chapter in my life
I intend to close.

(Chorus)

(Dug)

Half-assed past
and yet I can't stop watching it.
Gain perspective
on the wreckage
by etching it on a monument.
I'll admit my songs are all
a bad news burial plot.
You can find me where the miracles not.
Dude looks like a lady left him.
All his hooks are angry questions.
Successfully argued against hope.
I clearly have such great intentions.
Dogs don't eat dogs
people do.
In fact people eat people too.
And I'm not saying that I wanna play dumb
but I thought this was what I had wanted to escape from.
Fishing in polluted streams.
Living the confusing dream.
It isn't what it used to be,
it's so much better.
Yep.
Everything's as I imagined it.
Imaginary but immaculate.
I'm a fragile fractal
passing for passionate.
Some days I even believe that;s accurate.
Nihilist refrigerator magnets.
Consider that my catnip.
At this point I can't even shut my cabinets.
They say it's a habit,
well yeah but its a classic.
Bear with me,
the whimsy's getting flimsy.
No wait, bear witness.
This whole business is a sickness.

(This is a song.)x4
Track Name: Old Man Yells At Cloud
(Dug)

Rap C-SPAN.
Leave in a police van.
Pirate viral idle ideals,
jam with a neat band.
Applaud fraud baby.
Nobody gets me,
the world's cold
like the delicious refreshing taste of
fuck that nevermind. (PEPSI)
Another pornographic
fantasy anthem about how you can quit your job.
And I'll retire at 30, dead,
a roadie for the Dirty Heads.
Kickstarter my heart,
I've got some references you'll recognize.
I'll sweat respect to death
and buy some eyebrows that look less surprised.
Aphorisms,
Lizzy Marie.
That's the queen of England.
Doesn't matter.
That no, no, not the dog from Up.
No I mean Dug the rapper.
Like, lead balloons at parties
for the bands that Zeppelin ripped off.
Or how everybody thinks
some ex-prison guard is Rick Ross.
I hate labels.
There's theft detectors under them.
And peeling them once
stuffed under my sweaters
getting cumbersome.
Photoshopping coupons,
it'd be illegal for me to advise that.
So I didn't, if it works,
be nonspecific when you write back.
We gotta stop being honest with ourselves.
Submit to Spotify.
Give college the ole college try.
Or make millions just being an awesome guy.
From now on it's survive or die.
Laugh and cry, redact, deny.
Try to act adult and teach adults
how to do more than act alive.
I hate labels.
I don't wanna know what I'm eating
thanks.
Tried cooking for myself
which just meant adding weed to pizza cake.
I'm a fascinating disaster
masturbating to tapes of it afterwards.
Making rappers nervous or was that
maybe just getting on rappers nerves.
I'm taciturn, like I don't really know what that word means.
Let me borrow your mind.
I'm an Email Model Ship.
Sending awful pics of tomorrows design.
Like, hey, wake up.
Everything's broken, discuss.
Trust is a kind of fund and we don't have enough.
We've had enough.
It's venue to venue.
And it never ends like Shenmue.
Til I rent myself to pay the rent.
Or find some comfy bench dude.
Cause you can't stop the party.
We wrapped the bar in barbed wire.
And our tour was so hot, well,
it caught Happy Tooth's car on fire.
So now we run in Columbus,
cause we can't afford bikes.
But we're not running Columbus.
That's probably Lydia Loveless.
Or the Devil Doves,
with special love to everyone
who's band names hard to rhyme off of
that still knows we're in an endless debt to them.
And vague complaints for condo honchos
cleaning up our dirty town.
And ruining it for residents
and shutting fucking Bernie's down.
I hate labels.
As much as I love indie acts.
That bar belonged a bar ago
when I could focus on bringing dizzy back.
Nothingness, yeah gimmie that.
It's all that I ever needed.
If only for the simple fact
it's easier to write that cynic crap.
Then to hug abundant sun lit summet
hung with names of mountain climbers.
My names only on watch lists.
I didn't mean literally set the town on fire.
It's just an expression.
People need love and protection.
But not from unchecked henchmen
that wanna club and repress them.
I hate labels.
Matter of fact I hate a lot more than that.
But this song was getting depressing.
So I figured I'd bring the chorus back.
Hordes of cats, distorted facts,
and other things you can snuggle with.
Enough to forget a troubled past
or care how long the bubble lasts.
When they privatize the sidewalk
my chalk will be spraypaint.
Signed, "Basic Causality."
Colorful,
the way the days ain't.
Cause everybody knows
the way I say the way it goes, goes.
Money talks, I talk louder,
I'm completely broke though.
Pause to toss the baton on
to the empty space behind me and
sing a song for dead, but then,
for the dying man with a fighting chance.
When the nineties finally find me,
I'll be hiding in the wilderness.
Teaching grizzly bears swear words,
and warming my hands with your syllabus.
Doing everything in my distaste for power
to keep the property values low.
So when I'm blasting Kiss,
and I don't like Kiss
you don't have to ask.
Cause now you know.
Fuck em if they can't take a joke.
Wait, don't fuck em if they can't take a joke.
I take all my advice from song lyrics.
It's not clear if I care how my days will go.
Cause I'm not ready to spend the apocalypse
trading stocks of it, but I'll rock with it.
Cause I'm not equipped to unlock the cockpit.
Or stop the shit. Just document, or ignore.
Like I still believe in record stores,
and metaphors, and ends to wars,
and holy shit guys I'm just not hip I guess.
Nor is the majority of popular opinion.
Which has never counted for shit I guess.
It's attempt the daring until we're dead and buried.
It's all temporary bliss at best.
But I get it, we're all to credit dependent
to sweat it, forget it, nevermind.
Cause it's live as if you'll never die,
and be remembered as if you'd never died, right?
Track Name: Stoop Kid! (ft. Hyphon)
(Hyphon) Man I'm the king of these cement slabs.
(Happy Tooth) Duckin obligations like they're pretend jabs.
(Dug) Out there they chew you like pen caps,
you gotta prevent that.
(All) Hmmmmm.......
Get the fuck up off my porch
before I stab you with a fork.
There's no need to start a war
cause you're just bored of being bored.
He's ignored like its a sport.
That's a poor form of support.
(aw yeah, okay)

(Chorus)

Stoop kids afraid to leave his stoop!

(Happy Tooth)
He's been waiting and praying
for the best day.
Sitting and saving these great things
he could just say.
He's been waiting for decades
and only wants to get paid.
Stooping so low
and always waking with headaches,
Dead face, you could call him a hunchback.
He's only scared to leave
because hes walking on thumbtacks.
Drug bags,
and some regular visitors.
If he left he'd never come back
so he holds the perimeter .

(Hyphon)
His cousins got a (you guessed it)
blue Cobalt.
On the dashboard of course,
a suction Kobold.
He's got nowhere to go.
New lookin shoes,
old soul.
Every social skill beyond
holler and grows mold.
So I'm told,
haven't seen chief in weeks.
He's lonely and struggles in keepin the peace.
On Sundays he's out front
ready to cheat in cleats.
Creeps for weeks
and a fantasy's
why the sheets reek.

(Chorus)

(Dug)
Everybody tells me that Stoop Kid is stupid.
And it's funny
those are the same kids
he has nothing to do with.
A true blue gluestick,
reclusive, he sticks around.
And if you knew what he knew
you'd refuse to do it different now.
The stoop moves as fast as the globe spins.
And outsides an ocean of cold wind and no wins.
No thanks.
Stoops stupor super mundane.
But the roads are all one way,
and every day is some day.

(Chorus)
Track Name: The Party's Over
Yo! Wake up! The party's over. Get the fuck off my couch.
(Aw fuck, where the fuck am I?)
I woke up and everybody had left.
I took a half step and tried to catch breath.
I'm passed wrecked and I never quit working.
I won't be content until the rent's spent,
and works burning.
I've been rappin, wrapped in the passion,
not to cash in fast, and I half grinned
at the reaction I had when I took action to
grab pens and stab men
and kill all of my whack friends.
I've had the spins for multiple years now.
I hear sound and it gets translated to blank faces
and weird frowns.
We're down, but I swear we'll get up again.
Tell all my drunken friends,
to take the rum and gin
and learn to fuckin swim in another trend
cause our slumps pretend.
Like, poverty, robbery, hypocrisy,
philosophies of crossed beliefs,
constantly talking me into prophecies
of dishonesty awkwardly.
I'm only getting sadder,
I'm only getting weirder.
My last words'll be laughter
or whatever you hear first.
But these ears hurt,
and I'm hungry though so
I'm running home.
I gotta let somebody know
we're running low
and write another fucking poem
about how we'll be unknown
until after the guns shown.

Running out of patience,
running out with bare feet.
Ripping up these pages but
failures never scared me.
Running out of pavement,
coming down the airs sweet.
Filling up the day's with
anything that impairs me.

But we can't come home
until we're done though.
The sun shows
what the blood soaked tongue spoke
aloud now we're down
in the crowd of evil people.
Seeking misleading peaceful
lethal needles they need still.
And I just wanna figure it out
but they're sitting us down
to get our signatures now.
It's getting harder to make apathy romantic.
Am I a martyr if I casually demand it?
It's all semantics we can't quit analyzing and defining.
Trying to find the right thing and die like kings.
So I'll write a new song
but I'll die with my boots on.
I tried to read the bible but that shit was too long.
Whose gone? And how do we remove the blood clot?
It's tough to pay attention when you're only thinking fuck off.
Some cops would probably call us hooligans.
But we'll never go to school again.
Never needed it to use a pen.
One of these days I"m gonna wake up
Instead of stay stuck.
My paintbrush won't paint the same stuff as
these fake fucks....
Wait, what?
I'm lost, and sweatin bullets.
I don't have to make up problems
and depressing bullshit
when its everywhere I look
and all I'm ever full with.
The stomach that ate itself
was full of knots.
No loose ends.
And the truth is....

Everybody's gone.
The party's over.
Every thing is wrong
and you're hardly sober.
Alone at last,
you're on your own again.
With a broken mask
and serotonin spent. x2

Tell me all your problems
I'll tell you mine.
Sell me all your toxins
cause Hell's divine.
Dwell on what's forgotten
and jealous lies.
Live life with caution
but these cells divide.
Ask what went wrong
but the well is dry.
Half of it is rotten
but the smell is fine.
Laugh at the option
but the helps a crime.
End up in a coffin
with embellished eyes.
I feel like I did
but I haven't given up yet.
So steal all my shit while I get beaten
like a drumset.
The sun set and yesterday was like today.
I'm wide awake and I just wanna drive away
or find a grave in a violent way
that feels like a blade.
I swear I'm okay.
But I'm ending my charade
wearing a silent face.
The fireplace is an acquired taste.
I'll be burning my mistakes
inside the flames.
Track Name: Percussive Maintenance (ft. Hyphon)
(Hyphon)
Chorus:
Lab rat chewin the wheel down to a semi-circle.
If your friends a hand, then sometimes that friend will hurt you.
If it feeds poison, make it a measured virtue.
Squeak til the break of day, that white coat never herd you.

Power is a chopping block,
you're either the meat or the hand.
All the time, it is cast as either you sleep or you stand.
That doesn’t account for seat on the can, eating the bland,
food, listening to the man, spew,
ignoring the beasts mood span.
The attitude is set to can do,
burning both ends of the candle.
want to be back in the wool that the lamb holds.
Shit, I will take the hair growth of literally any other mammal.
Sans whales,
I am stuck trying to convince you out of my ham hole.
Dolphins are smarter,
but mice are the ruling class.
You’re like, nice Douglas Adams reference,
I’m all “who is that?!?”
These are not the droids you are looking for
from your voodoo past.
Pretty sure I am walking the world
all through the lens of the Hulu glass.
The culture war was lost when coffee became a mainstream dessert.
Never trust a friend who doesn’t listen when you complain that it hurts.
Dug says the collapse came
when they scheduled the java break into work.
With a healthy fear of success and contentment,
I only feel safe on the verge.

(Chorus)
(Dug)

I've got it; I'm taking all of your advice at once.
Besides deciding Thai's for lunch,
I won't have to live my life for months.
It's funny how I'm confident when telling you the happenings
Because the consequences aren't there.
For me at least, and that's the thing

Imagining flapping wings
when feeding fish escape plans
From that Elvis documentary,
3000 Miles To Graceland
Like, am I getting all these tips cause I'm a rad best buddy?
Or a crash test dummy?
Hell, even if they mean well...

Busy stumbling down the drain,
I know I'm petty, I'm a heartbreaker
and if it makes a decent song,
just be glad we aren't neighbors
Used to solve most all my problems
by simply listing off their synonyms
Writing songs to sing while wobbling
as a distant voice says "Finish Him"
Solidarity is cherishing the others like yourself.
But then again I guess my self is someone that I seldom help.
I don't understand you, I don't plan to.
All I asks return the favor.
I've got your back if you've got a back,
I popped the latch on my circuit breaker.

(Chorus)
(Happy Tooth)

Lately I've been bed ridden.
I look like shit.
Stuck, head spinnin.
I just listen, while I smoke another cig.
Then more things go wrong and
I blame the government.
Our punishment for making life artificial.
Chemicals made me a machine,
my hearts a pistol.
Take me off this morphine.
I wish that I was fourteen so I could go back
to more dreams I miss it sorely.
This story ends in work
beatboxin to machinery.
Havin sleep talks and mean thoughts
knowin I'll cease to be.
Lost in the casino lights,
mosquito bites, sativa eyes.
Our dreams are handheld
we can't tell from these amoeba lives.
Rat face chewin through stone for a Svengali.
If you've been faulty,
take two of these then call me.
Losin feeling, probably zombie,
leavin seemin thoughtful.
Those white coats never even
heard you screamin at the bottle.
It's all percussive maintenance,
they're all just fuckin aliens.
I guess I wasn't made for this.
They're tellin us what crazy is.
In this life, where we break shit
to fix it.
They're courteous don't worry kids.
You're a statistic.
I write dope hooks in notebooks
cause whats done is done.
Not loyal to the topsoil
and don't respect a fuckin gun.
Less than one is none,
and two is one too many.
I don't know if this bottles
half full or just too empty.

(Chorus)