american fuck


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the 3rd album (but the first dope one) by atlanta rapper/weed advocate jake cook aka jacket. over 2 fucking years in the making. take several massive bong hits and delve into the mind of a depraved everyman.


released February 28, 2014

mostly produced by jacket. track 3 was produced by andrew ruse. recorded on garageband in different places/bedrooms/basements i've inhabited.



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JACKET Atlanta, Georgia

i'm jacket

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Track Name: fast one
i'm a cool ass dude. ass is on me like a mule tattoo. jake is like an ape throwing stool at you in a cage, finna break the bars and act rude. you know me from my latest album with the cover with my nose straight caked in talcum. god damn what a crazy day. living like i ain't trynna make it to my 88th anyway. shoot skeet with precision. got a new mixtape and you need to listen. got a few bad b's in a freak position. smoke so much i gotta hire a weed assistant just to roll me that good. riding through atlanta. grown man under the hood. i'm cool with being misunderstood, just never underpaid. man i wish a gay motherfucker would. word around town: bitches be thinking i'm cute and they enameled with jacket. that's word to my tooth. chewing a baby ruth. getting stupid in the sky-box in between two black cookies like a hydrox. one a penny two a penny hot cross buns. all we do is cop funds with one cock of a shotgun. then we dip to the crib with a twelve pack. bitch i know you felt that. when i'm riding through the city, gotta keep my head low cause i'm smoking on that stuff and trynna duck the po-po cause if they catch me out here slipping they're gonna lock me away. what more can i say? i'm the fucking shit.
Track Name: i be
hash rocks. i'm smoking on that ill with a mill in the cash box. focus on the grill and the trillness and ask not what jake can do for you and stay glued to your dad's cock cause you's a yolo-sexual bitch. i'm sick of talking to pricks with loud lips sputtering off and udderly soft like cow's tits. my rhymes are usually weird. your rhymes are usually queer but i'm not here to incite. i'm just here to drink like 2-3 beers. blowing smoke rings has got me craving some buffalo wings. stacking dough until i'm balling like the sacramento kings. b-ball. i free falls onto tracks. creepy as crap like steve seagall donned in black. i be drinking brews. what the fuck you thinking dude? solo cup filled to the brink with booze. weed in my left pocket is stinking too. and you know this. bitches that i don't know blow kisses as me when i ride in my focus cause i be cheifing the dro spliffs. i be all the time smoking that good shit. the most purplest blunts and j's. you be all the time rapping that retarded shit. i don't mean in a good way. fat bongs fat bowls. put the mic down asshole.
Track Name: crazy ass raps
what seems to be the problem, officer? it's the return of the guy. i brought a lot of awesome herb that we should burn and get high. close the drapes, curtains and blinds and let's get baked until these grapes turn into wine. rock a fitted cap and a baseball mitten. trying to get slapped in the face by all the bitches. still making that "murder your mother" music. in fact, some lames standing on a volcano heard it and jumped into it. and i say shit. got nothing but hatred for a flagrant homosapien trynna act like a gay bitch. i like my bitches haitian and my weed dominican. i like my children behaving and not screaming and finicking. sorry guys. catch me in the wilderness like i was made by REI. catch me in the parking lot of arby's, drinking barley wine. kicking hearty rhymes. i'm heavy metal like a battle bot. shocking like a cattle-prod. i'm at the foreign legion screaming "rest in peace to adam yauch". twin glocks and zip locks. a pissed off hip-hop singer with some bling in his wristwatch. they be like god bless america. man, fuck america. y'all are just buying into post 9/11 hysteria. i'm a grizzly bear with this behringer. you fairies need to see how you fare up in the barracks to build some character.
Track Name: doozy
somebody's about to pay the price and get they body put on ice if i cannot locate my rice and beans in five seconds. kicking it with my brethren in a fly recording session is the life of me so let's embibe some trees then just explode on mics. control a cypher. i'm the shit like swollen diapers. that's why i never give myself about these stupid bitches with pubic twitches every single time they see the jacket. you hold me back, bitch. platinum bracelet on my dilz-nick. chill as crap. smoking on that purple shade of magilla gorilla's hat. i might just brew some coffee. i might just do some laundry. i might just screw this blondie i found who says she's from palm beach. i got that swagger on a thousand bucks. loud as fuck. take a power nap and toke a power blunt. ask a crowd what's up. bout to shove the tao right up your butt. how the fuck did you get them to let you play for the powderpuff leagues? i puff much weed and i fuck up beats. asking a slut if she'd let me up in them guts, please. she got them thong panties and she's on xannies. jacket keeps a bong handy for them long damn weeks. do this shit by myself like masturbation. jacket's been raging since making a pact with satan. he said he'd give me limitless power and bitches would cower but now my soul will burn so my demeanor is stern like howard. still a funny son of a cunt. the only thing i give a fuck about is money and blunts. money i want so money i got, now money i get. somebody tell this dummy in front of me i'mthe shit. catch the kid watching "malcolm in the middle". the world needs your new shit like a falcoln needs a fiddle. i'm drinking up this yuengling. i'm swag as fuck. brrrrr-ang thang.
Track Name: abomination
it's the return of the creep. swerving in jeeps, murking beats and steady burning them leaves. lyrically deep like the ocean, bitch. cold and so emotionless to chicks who like to hold the dick. bow before my pogo-stick. i'm legally retarded or, at least, i need some therapy. staying on my global terror spree until they bury me. no days off, so lay off calling me ferris b. and kwit staring at me. i swerve to the curb and hit the lock button fast. trying hard not to spill this jameson with rocks in the glass. puffs of the hash. now i'm stumbling up to the captain d's laughing. starting to feel happy from that half a liter of absinthe. screaming and reaching for the acedominaphen in the cabinet. jacket has developed a freaking expensive drinking habit. whiskey's got me seeing stars and i've got the scars to prove it. locate the closest bar and barge into it. now i'm on my eighth drink and a great stink creeps into my skivvies. ditch the evidence kwick and run to the sink to clean the shit-grease. stare at the ground, embarrased, for the rest of the party. hardly miss a beat as i proceed to pour my next campari. yes, i'm very freaking loaded. grab some hairy weed and smoke it. i can barely even load it. where's my fucking keys? we were sharing a doobie, then she was baring a boobie and now the short hair of my pubis be stuck in her teeth. i am an abomination of the lord-god. cave your fucking face in and smoke your pot. i'm rubbing neosporin on my sore cock.
Track Name: serpent of olde
god dammit i'm the bullet in the mac-11. finger the trigger, bitch. pull it quick to cap the reverend. light the damn fire. grab hold of a psychic vampire and throw the feeble cow. i know some evil's about to transpire. sacrifice a virgin soul to the serpent of olde and from the earth he will immerse when the curtain unfolds. now is the reign of everlasting pain and torture. it's summertime and ATL is a scorcher. i was born with a fucked up mindset. you bitches ain't seen my shine yet. soap on a rope cuz i don't wanna get choked and rode up in the hind-end by a hairy and husky jerry sandusky wannabe motherfucker with a real big fist and a "co-exist" sticker stuck on his bumper. call me dickless jacket if you slip and i do not beat that ass in. act slick and that shit can happen. jake put you in a place where he piss and crap in. that's real ass talk. back in pre-school i would steal that chalk from the teacher's desk and did i feel bad? naw cuz it was hard to crack me like a steel crabclaw. aw yeah i did it again. fuck a government official with a hidden agen[da]. fuck a government official with a hidden lens trynna entrap me when i just be chilling with friends. stay sat for the pledge of allegiance and i got more grease than a team of freegans. got them polices creeping live they've never seen a G smoking weed and sleeping on his own damn front porch. shit. no m'am, no more schlitz or imma wind up in the gutter like lindsay lohan's abortions, so i better take it easy right now. bitch, you should have my CD by now. what say we leave for my house cuz i've got the finest weed and white-out.
Track Name: giddy up
i drink a dozen dank tanks and eat some fucking lamb shanks. cop a lot of that guap to deposit up in the damn bank. i'm funny like jerry sein[feld]. your honey is very fine and we don't have to strip; we could just sip on some cherry wine. sike. i'm on my tandem bike swerving down delmar. bitch thinks she impressed me cuz she said she read "the bell jar". swagger of a dagger knife. i'll stab your wife and flee the scene back to the casa to smoke a crop of the meanest green. 770. drunk as fuck and hella stoned. leave me the hell alone; i'm trynna cuff up this yellowbone. bitch, can you smell the cologne? bitch, check the cellular phone. bitch, you look swell and i can tell you'd be a hell of a bone. everybody's got a mother but mine's dead so fuck feminism, shorty. serve me some fine head. and fuck debtor's prison, man. i duck everytime i gets a ring from the IRS. i'm retarded, i'm a bitch and i'm an ugly faggot. find a bar and drink some schlitz until it's fucking tragic. busted headlights and smashed craniums cuz anytime i need some guidance i just ask satan then implore a bitch to let me store the dick in every orifice. record a hit and take a flooring pic like noah orisich. i score and flip a brick to cop a foreign whip to tour with. i grew up as a poor kid now i can afford the swordfish. giddy up. put my city up. you can feel it in your chest like a titty-fuck.
Track Name: fuck waltz
i'm counting up this cash. breaking out the stash. i need some mouth-to-ass resuscitation. they trynna tell the jake the clientele is waiting for the new mixtape so fucking patient but it needs to be perfect. my legions deserve it, to not have to settle for mediocre shit. all about that juice like fuck alan derschowitz and i'm nervous but i'm serving my purpose. got some money but still seeking cheap thrills like whiskey ginger ales and THC pills. i wanna just go nuts and drop like three mils but hunter ramsay jr.'s telling me "chill". so i'm riding through the city on my lowrider bike, right? so high from the blunt that i might bring a gun to a knife-fight. sipping on a monster, trynna conjure up that bright light. mad hype with a half-kike ass-wipe loading up a hash pipe. grant park is the place. pull up, drop a couple bucks and get that hard in your face like i tell a bitch that i really wanna fuck. still sparking a J so fat i gotta just lounge in the cut. go hard in the paint like a white trash dude down on his luck. you know when it's real. criminal activity is gonna get me locked up like a veal. that shit would be a tragedy so i febreeze my clothes and keep visine drops so i can keep my job while embibing these light green crops. i might be a scrub but i'm highly above every other rapper. give me a mic and some drugs and i might flush 'em right down the crapper. three light skinned-ed thugs that be hyphie enough to change the game. leave a metal plate in the brain of a lame.
Track Name: stepdaddy
i'm rocking STGOB. straight cocking on them jockers. if you need that cheapo beef, pop into my meat locker. get some poser rapper cutlets and buckets of some fucker's blood who tried to shelve the dick and fell victim to his uppercuts. shove a couple of buts right up her butt cuz i'm drunk and here to party. got a six and a weed bag duffled up and a trunk full of bacardi. get the fuck out of a dude's face. hit you so hard you'll hallucinate. take a drive through town on a goose chase for a purple leprechaun with a blue face. not my idea of a nice time like going to ikea or writing tight rhymes. got a spine with a wind-up key and a hyped up beat cranks it everytime. i'm a real hot fucker. don't believe me, ask your godmother. don't believe me, ask your stepsister. fucked her so hard i gave her sex blisters. gotta score. gotta make some money. i could spend it on cheese and bread. fuck that. how can i afford to feed my tummy when i'm too busy feeding my head? drugs in bed. cubinzo straight to the brain. blowing dro smoke while stenzo's playing. scream "fuck you" out the window pane while my heart skips beats like a tempo change. yes, my name's jake and i'm the brother who fucked your mother good. she screamed my namesake under the covers. that's when i understood she could be my main mate. told her and i loved her and kissed her on her thighs and that's how i became your motherfucking stepfather, guy.
Track Name: yolandi
baby, i'm your labrador. anything you need i'm gonna retrieve. won't even ask what for. i'll just hit the street and then beat feet cuz i be that dude. i wanna kick my habits to the curb, stop eating that cheap ass food and give you what you deserve. here goes the hurt, the pleasure, the work, the leisure, the skirt, the sweater. in the hearse together. we're the perfect combination but just ain't working like a vagrant. [dream fades out]
woke up and it was all a dream. stretch, yawn and a back pop. rise up from my dirty sheets and log on to the laptop. working on a mixtape and i'm hella busy. no time for a dime and it's hella shitty but i'd skweeze you in cuz you be the bitch. you got bars like a tard and you're hella pretty. yolandi, your body gets me going like a fifteen year old. wanna get wit cha so ditch ninja and me and you can grab a beer and a gyro.
Track Name: fuck outta here
real G shit. hood rat stuff. pass the what; it gets me rapping like a rabid pup. all i ask is hash to puff and some asses to fuck. i throw some acid on the pastor's nuts cuz that's what's up. jacket has had it up to here with these raggedy fucks. getting shat upon with these raps like they ass is erupt. let's back it up to when i would skip class and cut because i was just fucking up, plus i didn't give like half a fuck. i'm passing up these majors. i tell em "eat a laser. do me a favor and just lose me on your freaking pager or imma key the sabre. bitch, i'm not a monkey slave". DIY until i die then i'll do that shit from the grave. move aside and let the man go through. call me a one trick pony. bitches only blow me cuz they lonely plus they know i treats the pussy like a shoney's. i'm screaming "fuck the police" and i rap about my cock a lot. often when i see a cop getting shot i just stop and watch. know the facts. do a couple lines of blow, pack the weed up in the bong and spray the seeds upon your lower back. money, whiskey, coffee, sexy, slutty partytime. bitch, i think i'm busta rhymes.