just released (July 08)- 33 minutes of THE GOATS LIVE at BBC 1994 - amazing recording! The GOATS - 2008 book recommendation: COLLAPSE by Jared DIAMOND...wow! It is a collection of stories from history about how mankind kills itself by being selfish, greedy, religious and just plain stupid. If you have read it send us an email.

purchase the music here

just released July 24, 2008, the BBC recorded live album from 1994...with Oatie Kato "The Goats Live at BBC" all 25 tracks, here on mp3 CLICK HERE CLICK HERE for more info & TO BUY

buy the classic first album "Tricks of the Shade" all 25 tracks, here on mp3 CLICK HERE CLICK HERE for track listing & TO BUY

buy the second album "No Goats, No Glory" all 11 tracks, here on mp3 CLICK HERE CLICK HERE for track listing & TO BUY

Just Released! (SEPTEMBER 2007) Rare & Unreleased GOATS tracks, re-mixes, live tracks & demo tracks CLICK HERE TO BUY (or more info)

Check out the video to the MTV top ten hit "Do the Dugs Dig" And stay tuned to the site a fully live album will be released in the winter of 2008! SEND US AN EMAIL, to bondzinho@hotmail.com and TELL US YA STORY, WE WRITE BACK AND SOMETIMES SEND A NEW MP3...ALSO - we would love to get any video images or photos of our group back in the day. If you have some we would love it. WE HAVE NO VIDEOS OF US PLAYING (WOW!) Please help. We'd love to show our kiddies. THANKS...oatie.

Oatie Kato is traveling, traveling, traveling. Visit him in his new favorite place in the world GABON! Occasionally as well in Brooklyn, Brasil, India or Italy (at the most beautiful place monestevole UMBRIA ). He shot a film in Sicily that is mopping up the awards....www.theorangethief.com . AND it is now available for rental on NetFlix and Amazon.com via Warner Brothers! YEAH!. Thanks again Joe da Butcher Niccolo!!!!! Click on the SON OF TANGO KID image below to see info about his upcoming films... A NEW REVIEW hey you remember when they went after Noriega to stop the "Drug War" well they got Norriega and you would think from all the hype their would be less drugs...Nah. They just wanted to go get Norriega because they need to justify all the government defense budgets. Now they've got Saddam Hussein. You think this will have an effect on terroism? Not likely. Hitler was a young kid in Germany during the first World War. The events of that war scarred him and made him evil and bitter. I wonder if what we're doing right now in the Gulf and other places is having the same effect on some young kids. What do you think?

below Madd, OaTie and EJ rocking the Khyber Pass in Philadelphia 1993
 

 Below: Madd and Oatie in Brasil 2002.
Madd is now living in France. Oatie is teaching Biology and Physics in Manhattan. Swayzack is MIA, who knows where.
Schmoove just got married December 27th 2003. Pierce and EJ play in a folk band that just completed their fifth album.

Welcome to The Goats first official homepage. Started on Feb 28th 2001. Thanks for all the great response to the site. As a result we will continue working to make it better. Please sign up by entering your email address below or sending us an email. Reviewed by many to be one of the best hip-hop bands of all time. Picked as one of the top forty albums made in Philadelphia ever! Featuring live instrumentation and three of the rawest vocalists in hip hop. They have been traveling the world and living in Brasil and working on new stuff. If you found this page, we would like to find you and let your hear our new stuff, so please send us an email and tell us what you're up to. Sadly, the albums “Tricks of the Shade” and “No Goats, No Glory” are no longer available anywhere outside of getting lucky in some used record store. Feel free to download the songs above and we will make more available real soon. Madd has been traveling in Europe and working on his project called “Incognegro”. Send him an email at mcuhoh@hotmail.com for more info on that. Oatie will be releasing a project called “Eighty Dee” later this year. He has also produced the project Jimmy Luxury and the Tommy Rome Orchestra. A fun, rap meets latin grooves project with a super talented MC, Jimmy Luxury. Their songs have been featured in many films including Ocean's 11, Me Myself and Irene, Go! Drillbit Taylor (upcoming 2007) and others. Check it out. AND he just recently directed his first film THE ORANGE THIEF, which has won the top award at six festivals and counting...www.theorangethief.com . It is now available for rental on NetFlix and Amazon.com via Warner Brothers! YEAH!. Thanks again Joe da Butcher Niccolo!!!!! Singer Rucyl is releasing beautiful stuff this year. Check her out at rucyl.com

 
above clockwise L to R: Rucyl, Oatie, Madd and Swayzack

Sign up to be put on our mailing list or just send us an email. Thanks.or send us an email. We love the communication... bondzinho@hotmail.com

 More props

More

check out oatie's latest project Jimmy Luxury

Click here to get see/print an enlargement of what
many considered the best record cover of all time.
Artwork by Vinnie Angel
check out his site www.tamponcase.com

Q-Tip, Special Ed, Swayzack, Oatie, Madd

Left: Tricks of the Shade Cover, Center: No Goats No Glory Cover, Right: Do the Digs Dug Cover
None of the albums are in print right now, but a collection will be made availble soon on this website.
send us an email at bondzinho@hotmail.com

Counter by Web Counter

THE BELOW IS FROM A RECENT REVIEW OF THE ALBUM DONE IN 2003

From: Asda- Breadstacker

Status: Offline

IP: Logged

Aight i recently got this album off my mate, now i hadnt ever heard of them but

was pleasently suprised at how awesome this album is. How come i aint ever heard

of The Goats before? Have any of yall heard this album?

(i know this should be in hiphop forum but its of no use there)

heres a review i found:

quote:

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE GOATS

Tricks Of The Shade

Record label: Ruffhouse/Columbia

Format: CD

Release date: 17 November 1992

considering the ultra-patriotic times we live in, a look back at this album is

key. first off, its initial release was during George Bush, Sr.'s presidency.

also, its multicultural, sociopolitical perspective of America is certainly one

that most stateside residents wouldn't take kindly to in a post-9/11 U.S.A. you

will NEVER see a re-release of this album, and i feel just as strongly about it

as my man tonypuma obviously does, as evidenced within his brilliant review. it

originally appeared in the ON THE VERGE newsletter about two years ago, but i

had to dig it up and share it with you all.

About two weeks ago, I finally picked up a copy of the Zebrahead soundtrack.

Despite the fact that my dollar joint has little flecks of paint all over the

wax, this is an important record. It's even more important if you DON'T know

why. The observant ones will note that, yes, this was the first wide scale

appearance of Nas, back when he was still Nasty instead of jiggy. But aside from

the appearance of "Halftime" two years before Illmatic, Zebrahead also debuted

someone else to the world - the Philly collective known as The Goats.

But wait, I wasn't checking for movies back in '92. I didn't care what Michael

Rappaport was up to, I was buying punk rock records and the occasional hip-hop

joint. I don't know how I got my hands on it exactly, but I went home from the

store with a sample cassingle (did i just say that?) for the Goats. You know,

one of those cassettes they do up like 12"s - album, radio and instrumental

versions of "Typical American" and "Burn The Flag". Right now, I doubt I'd even

chance such a thing, taking a shitty industry cassette home just to see what the

hell it was. But back then, it whipped my ass with a vengeance.

The A-side was one of the most powerful and angry rap tracks I'd ever heard,

with the three rappers dropping lines like "the hell with Stormin' Norman, I

write rhymes Black, they be political and plus they be all of that," "...now

you're pounding sand for another man's sins...but when you come home in a box,

green drawers, green pants, green socks..." The B-side took it over the line,

with a hardcore anthem to flag-burning - "so he can exercise his right to ignite

the flag." For real, some of these lines hit me upside the head, and there's no

explaining what these guys were saying: "we don't hate the people, but the

government's a drag," "the Goats are staging this political protest, to make you

aware of the economical unrest," and of course, "Columbus killed more Indians

than Hitler killed Jews, but yet on his birthday we get sales on shoes." That's

right, it was 1992, George Bush was in office and shit was wound up like Morton

Downey, Jr. By the time I got to the Radio Edit of "Burn The Flag" - over three

minutes of nothing but beep - I was down with these guys.

Don't get the wrong idea - this stuff was slamming hardcore hip-hop. It proved

that you didn't need to tax George Clinton's drawers to make a great head-nodder

in '92. It had so much of an "edge" it was virtually an subgenre in itself, but

it was a total rap album. As the story goes, Oatie Kato, Madd and Swayzack met

while all pushing pushcarts in Philly and got together. They hooked up with the

famed Joe "The Butcher" Nicolo (in Philly, who else?) and he put them together

on his Ruffhouse label. The messed-up part was until you read the liner notes

(ALL the lyrics), you didn't realize that most of these grooves were made live

with live instruments and turntables. The album simply didn't sound like a bunch

of musicians - more like the Bomb Squad smoking weed.

"Tricks Of The Shade" just might be the opera of the early '90s. It's a theme

record, of two characters (Chicken Little and Hangerhead) making their way

through Uncle Scam's Federally Funded Welfare & Freakshow to find their mother

who was jailed for attempting an illegal abortion. They meet Manny Noriega

selling drugs, Leonard Peltier locked down as the last Native American, Officers

Daryl Gates and Stacey Koons who 'tattoo' their heads, Rovie Wade The Sword

Swallower who has no control over her own body, and multi-ethnic shooting

galleries where whoever doesn't look like you is the target. It's a journey and

each song breaks the flow of the story by taking it down another road to tell

another story. The beats are lush and funky, but dark and full of minor keys.

There are eerie resonating beats, samples that just stick out in their pure

oddity and repetition, and an overall air of frustration in these songs between

the headlines and rolling paper. Like I said, it's got more edge than most

records, but it slams more often than not, between hard, fast lyrics and harder

production.

Of course, this record after-burned over most everyone's head and then buzzed

the budget racks on its way to the cutout bin. When I tried to see them on my

birthday at Wetlands, Madd and I discussed the situation on press outside the

club. Basically, one of Playboy's rock critics flat out loved it, and that was

all. Wetlands dissed my underage ass and I missed their set with Chuck Treece,

but got Maad's phone number after a great talk. I didn't actually see the Goats

until the second record dropped and Oatie had already left the fold.

Oatie, the Italian kid in the group, was nice lyrically (check out "NotNotBad"

for a nice assessment of Italians and Blacks), but according to Madd he flipped

before the act was supposed to tour Europe with Fishbone and The Bad Brains.

Before their set at Maxwell's in Hoboken a few years later, Madd told me that

Oatie basically jetted because the rest of the act was too involved in smoking

dope. This might seem dumb now, but sadly Oatie was on the right track. At the

end of their mind-blowing set that night, after watching them throw down all the

killers from Tricks and their ill live drummer freestyling while laying down a

mean 4/4 at the same time, Madd and Swayzack literally went to sleep on the

stage after all the weed they puffed. It was only a few months later that they

broke up and Columbia ended a last ditch promo effort on the weaker album No Goats, No Glory.

And now, what's left? The members have all gone different ways, and the closest

thing to new material is Incognegro. But once in a while, you'll find someone

who knows about how dope the Goats were. Don't believe me? Vernon Reid, someone

who KNOWS about misunderstood music, drops the Goats in his piece "Hard Left:

Hip Hop's Forgotten Visionaries" in The Vibe History of Hip Hop. Need more?

Check the dollar bin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

LYRICS AND TEXT TO "TRICKS OF THE SHADE"

TYPICAL AMERICAN I'm not your typical Amerikkkan I'm not your typical Amerikkkan Tell me whose is whose, tell me who is on the microphone I'm Oatie of the Goaties and I propose I would like a bone Ta edge off the dredge I'm alledged to have sparked a joint I speak political and blisstical I really hope ya like my points I aim at a target like a rifle not a shotgun Don't spray into the fray ta prove that I got one Hide ya hose from Aaron Rose cause he knows how ta top one 'Sgot a nose for the prose so don't suppose he will stop son I'm rollin into this rhyme like ya'd bite a tenderoni I'm rollin into this rap 'cause it's mine and ya know me I won't mind defy or sing like Toni Tone Singing for the supper like a dog does a boni George get off my jock cause I'm really gettin tired a this shit So step back Dan and throw up those fists Cause I'm a wreck shop and I turn this mutherfucker out Pay what is due me less I'm goin up in your mouth Yup yup I got the rhymes ta kick your but It be the G-O-A-T the M-A-D-D say what Up hus I got bucks yeah I be on the 2 bus So what's up I got nuff respect ta make ya jump Welfare reciever with the north side attitude I've had the shit piled up like in multitudes Nappy headed, holey shoed, roundin out the roster first Ya wanna step you better check the Green Monster first I don't pretend to be a nice guy so why ya try me I can go to plan B and you can get an eye jammy So save the sob story for a story book and look Jack in the box can take a lickin but I'm never gettin took By Uncle Scam and his band of political crooks Searchin nooks and crannies of my granny's pocket book Hello, hello can ya hear me now G The typical American kid that ain't me Neither is Oatie or the M A double D So pass the dutchie on the left hand side And don't hide the crop 'cause I got the E-Z Wides I'm gonna survive not suck seed because I stand as a man And you can't hand me no bird feed I'm not your typical Amerikkkan I'm not your typical Amerikkkan Pop goes ya head like the top of a daisy Ya ghost when the word hits like Patrick Swayze Crazy this shit about a plausible denial North takes the rap and ya clap at the trial Pie ala mode the ghettos will explode While ya sit pidgeon toed at a diamond camode Another episode of ya walkin the streets Million dollar stroll, five thousand pigs on the beat For the very first time imported from the hills Ya take money from the poor like a fiend pops pills Like the Mills Brothers ya sing a very white song But the roots of ya soul kinda colored belong I'm paralyzing punks with a positive pedigree For those who choose to love me, I'm the M-A the double D For those who choose to hate me, I negate their full effect Feelin ready and willin ta break Darryl Gates' neck Like fee diddilly foe, fum I gets dumb And like the typical American black male I'm done Eatin apple pies when Ma Double's rockin rhymes Ya know they on my nuts hus, they climb, they climb Ta hell with Stormin Norman (Schwarzkopf) I write rhymes Black They be political plus they be all o' that Philly born and bread wit blunts straight to the head Callin me conformist, man I warned you that shit was dead Military is a mockery for all to see Be all you can be is just another trick that's up their sleeve But ya better believe that you'll be grievin when ya ain't receivin What was promised don't be astonished 'cause ya won't be leavin They reeled ya in like your skin had fins Now your poundin sand for another man's sins To each his own to each his to each they say But I'm gonna blow a bone and you can march 'til the cows come home But you'll come home in a box Green draws, green pants, green sox Typical american kid, I think not I'm not your typical Amerikkkan I'm not your typical Amerikkkan   whatcha got is whatcha gettin Whatcha got is whatcha gettin Whatcha got got is whatcha gettin say Praised amazed kinda dazed when I plays From the time inclined I used to rhyme I went for mines They pullin nines to draw the lines To get the cash real fast for a blast the task at last unmask the true villain Does he clock the rocks to fill his pocks and his socks Or does the dough make him slow for the know how to flow Say, that's when I fucked up Its the season of the vicin, the mentals doing dickin If its yours for the picking like new gear or some kicks and A new cartridge for Nintendo and then ya pretend No And get all offended cause ya ain't no big time spendo Ya low on the backs of the green type kind Like Mr Mac Money without the money or the mind And then you're sure ta find, "Yo I can't do nuttin for ya" 'Cause ya sold out ya kin like you was Latoya Jackson but no Action countin papes in small fractions Of whatcha woulda had if ya did a little stashin Ta hell with the fashion, fashion is for daisies Beware of the rancor of the anchors of the crazy shadies Fees, fees, and fees, making music for the fees The label said "bend over bro and take ya royalties" Its a mad kinda madness, this material maddness Sad kinda sadness saying yo I gotta have this Whatcha got is whatcha gettin Whatcha got got is whatcha gettin say Now here come ole Flattop fresh with Fila hightop Boots and the scoop is chillin at the bus stop On a split shift spliffed with the swiftness Gotta gotta get yo who he gonna get this time Because it's payday the first day is the heyday The SS check is here so now its May Day Solo, oh no, rollin like a Rollo Maxin for the buddy coming down with the Herringbone Up on Erie Ave., so one starts ta grab Didn't quite have so the buddy starts ta jab He didn't have to fight cause dig it's 92 Dude got screwed Flattop had a double 2 Bust him in the gut, yeah he bust him in the gut Now I'm wearin black and for what? So you can be the man and glam and live like your grand And get dicked by big Uncle Scam, damn Slid down the bannister like I was insane Grabbed my Gucci watch and my fly gold chain Whatcha got is whatcha gettin Whatcha got got is whatcha gettin say   Rumblefish Rumblefish, breaks heads like dishes Rumblefish, is quicker than other fishes Rumblefish, cuz he's the big fish with the death wish Acting like a Waco, from Texas Flexes, as he fronts in the stolen Lexus Don't give a damn cuz the man don't respect us But this is the plot, three kids at the bus stop Bumrush the ride, now who's the big shot? Reach for glock but it's locked on safety Say G, do you think that blackfish is tasty? Don't waste me, Rumblefish starts to bleed But these others fishsticks, they need to feed But they bleed, cuz Rumblefish is speedy Plus the fishy bastard don't feed the needy He's greedy, and he's seedy as shit So don't be stupid and fuck with the Rumblefish! He's a Rumblefish! Better drop down quick when you hear that click! (repeat 4x) Verse Two: Movin movin quick lotta pigs on my dick Threw the stash in the trash now I be like that slippery nigga Avoided the trigger pull, you're lucky and shit money Cop had his gun drawn and dude thought that shit was funny So I ducked, down an alley way before he could pop it Rumblefish rollin strong, can't no puny thing stop it I ain't done shit, persecuted by my color Blackfish in the stream of a whole lot of others Contemplatin since birth how to get mines first I live a life of daily rep, so tell me which is worse On my way, in a hearse, to the bottom of a pond Or hustlin for my ducats cold-like gettin it on In the stream of society, why did they lie to me Got better things to do than write some white man's biography So after they dissed, rolled up that spliff Clenched up my fists and became the Chorus GOATS GET PICKED IN YEAR'S BEST ALBUMS BY MANY PRESS FOLK. BELOW IS QUOTED FROM NEW YORK NEWSDAY Newsday January 3, 1993 BY FRANK OWEN It was a year in which two of the best albums were sound tracks to bad Hollywood films, "Mo' Money" and "Boomerang." A year in which the more conservative Uptown Records threatened to eclipse Def Jam as the New York label,and a year when many of the highlights in black pop were non-musical - "Malcolm X," HBO's Def Comedy Jam, and the successful launch of Vibe. 1992 was by no means vintage year, but it was far from a bust. Reggae enjoyeda visibility in America not seen since the Bob Marley era, as the expressively ugly Shabba Ranks became an unlikely sex symbol and spearheaded the dance-hall reggae invasion. New York rap recovered its commercial momentum with Das EFX, the Black Sheep, and A Tribe Called Quest all going gold on the Billboard charts. "Jump" by Kriss Kross, and that single's evil twin, "Jump Around," by the Irish-American skinhead group House of Pain, were two of the year's most effective dance-floor fillers. Prince released his most compelling album in some time. Arrested Development was the most talked-about new group of the year. Boyz II Men spent more than three months at No. 1 with the mellifluous single "End of the Road." And funky divas En Vogue and fashionable tomboy trio T.L.C. made sure the men didn't get it all their own way. 1. Arrested Development, "3 Years, 5 Months, and 2 Days in the Life of."(Chrysalis). A.D. signals a brave new direction for rap music, away from gangster posturing toward something much more uplifting and inspirational. 2. Prince, "Male-Female Symbol" (Paisley Park). Ignore the hokey soft-porn "Arabian Nights" storyline. This is Prince's best work since 1987's "Sign o' theTimes." From the lean and funky to the luxuriously romantic, Prince covers all the bases. (TIE) 3. The Goats, "The Goats" (Ruff House). Mention "political rap" and rap fans think of Ice Cube's scattershot rage, Chuck D.'s stentorian call-to-arms, or KRS-1's mixture of education and entertainment. What they don't expect is thesatirical political theater of this Philadelphia group's highly original debut album. 3. Public Enemy, "Greatest Misses" (Def Jam). A mixture of radically remixed lesser-known P.E. tracks on one side, with six new raps on the other. An obvious stop-gap effort, nevertheless P.E.'s minor work is better than many other rappers' masterpieces. 5. Das EFX, "Dead Serious" (East-West). Tongue-twisting nonsense rhymes were all the rage this year on the hip-hop scene. And nobody did it better than localoutfit Das EFX on its debut album. "Das EFX, y'all. Breaking necks, y'all" replaced "Ice, ice, baby" as the favorite rap chant of 6-year-olds. 5. Various Artists, "Bam Bam It's Murder" (Mango). A simple guitar line endlessly plucked provided the foundation for the catchiest reggae tempo of the year - the so-called "Bam Bam" rhythm invented by producers Sly Dunbar and LloydWillis. Using the same hypnotic and fluid backing track again and again, a variety of Jamaican artists sings and raps about such diverse topics as femme fatales and skin-bleaching. 6. and 7. "Mo' Money Original Motion Picture Soundtrack" (Perspective) and "Boomerang Original Soundtrack" (La Face). Both albums feature a mixture of hard-core and mainstream sounds that illustrate both the healthy diversity of contemporary black pop, and how much musically hipper Hollywood is than in the days when the likes of Glenn Frey and Harold Faltermayer were thought of as suitable backing for Eddie Murphy's antics. 8. Mr. Fingers, "Introduction" (MCA). The rude arrival of techno on the dancefloor doesn't mean that more soulful types of dance music are dead. Old school house music was well-represented in 1992 by two fine albums, "No House Big Enough" by Ten City and "In The Mix" by Frankie Knuckles. But it was the melancholy beauty of "Closer" by Mr. Fingers that best provided a respite from techno's intrusive and ubiquitous presence. 10. Neneh Cherry, "Homebrew" (Virgin). What with Snap and Sout II Soul releasing less than spectacular albums, the Euro-Black bubble has been burst. Neneh Cherry, however, held her own with a musically adventurous, though not entirely convincing, second album.

¿RU DOWN WIT DA GOATS? I've got nap shit, in fact, I keep the fro way down my back Clippity Clippity claps when brothers talking pro black Fried chicken eatin vicin, crack vial kickin Pay attention never missin back alley pissin Apple pies never sweet potatoes better Keep $2.50 and a hootie just in case a rainy weather North side dweller, can't ya tell by the way I stroll In case it gets cold keep the Gerry down on hold Bold controlled BHP will never fold Been fought and sought but ain't never been like sold On outs, no hope, typically I be like Goat Even had big hopes way back when chillin' broke Politicians and bigots and pigs oh my Politicians and bigots and pigs Well before ya start ta pass out from this verbal lash out Ya better get ya cash out so the pigs'll throw my ass out There's no way for ya ta understand Playin Mr. 50 Grand, got ya bitties bootie tanned Heads gettin bigger, swiggin money swiggers Living in OZ with no dagos or no niggers Pigs are pulling triggers and ya paying the fees Columbus is ya hero but he's my fucking disease RU Down with the Goats And we're gonna cut throats Swayzack's gonna react like Jack-in-the-Box My hair's in plats I likes em wrapped up in lox I'm not no chip, I wasn't chopped off no block But I do smoke chunks of the skunk kinds of crop And just like the hats I got in a pack inside my wallet Waiting to get put on the rack in the back of that girl's closet So turn on the faucet it will allow me to release a little better Love and Oatie think I lost it but I betcha I'll still get her And not with a letter, a Jetta, or a pointsetta Gets it all on merit, not with a parrot like Baretta Then she goes "Jack, but I like fetta cheese" Said "ya can't make wiz outa that baby, please" I pledge allegiance to the flag but that's a wack ass drag I'd rather Billy Bragg, eyeballing natty rags And lag behind on those patriotic diddies Peace ta the coffee cream I dig multicolored bitties Titties and bootie, slittin throats is my duty Bush said "No taxes" but he meant "tutti frutti" Brothers with the gats here's where ya gotta tat Rat a tat tat Bush's head will splitter splat Cause he's vicin up the various, playing real gregarious Frontin its hilarious but hus its precarious If the CIA's got a blacklist well sign me right on up If I ain't ya cup of tea then ya better clean ya cup RU Down with the Goats And we're gonna cut throats No slippity slippity slide, never been free ride Welfare receiver, my my so was I Use ta get a fade back when the price was heavy Never had a Chevy, SEPTA was my levee Ta get from here ta there like a young buck scared Learned by trial and error ta never ever brake my stare The typical American male he's not me and I'd rather squat on the stoops and the corners making G's and Money cause I got ta feed my honey Funny, not a bit cause I got a starving tummy Sunny, never on my street side Rides defied I slip slide on the mind Jack-in-the-Box ain't no flop or Child's Play Cause Chuckie got dropped like the cid I did today Enough of that let me tell ya about this uh Buddah blessed the spliffs that I twista Let me tell ya bout the hype and the hoopla Kid Shupe's gonna throw ya through the loop a Get it done with a mic and a drum Pound it down and round it to sum one Now ya tell me that's a hard way ta come off a Cause I'll put ya in a ditch like Jimmy Hoffa So you five dollar sheep asleep on the range Better call bo peep before the Goats make change RU Down with the Goats And we're gonna cut throats   CUMIN' IN YA EAR Comin in ya ear with a mic and a drum Comin in ya ear with a mic Ya better believe that I'll be dreamin of a black Christmas And at the top of my list is a fat spliff And ya know it's a hoota of the Budda blessed True to the blue 'cause I got · on my chest And we rest because our cause speeds on it's way It's on our way, we're on our way, the S I G M A So what do you say? What do you know? Where would you like to go? To the step show with a pro or with a falsetto And what I mean is a speaker who can't see the light He cooks his rhymes in a beeker puts 'em in a pipe I'm not that type, I'm not that type, I'll say it one more time, I'm not the type to be sublime in any rhyme of mine I heard you wasn't down with these Philly mutherfuckers Instead of Welches Grape you used some shit called Smuckers Well knucker, I'm here ta let you know just what I think o' that To quote my man Chico "Smooth move Ex-Lax" Ya slippin tryin ta keep pace with the diver But you can't even catch my saliva From drippin, I'm spittin, all over you like Pippen Scottie beam me up cause all these lunatics are flippin Like a tumbler, I'm the rumbler, not Stevie buts a wonder Not a stumbler or a bumbler over words that you can't under- Stand, my man, 50 grand, shakin hands If I had a bird brain last name… I'd be Dan While I get mine ya bitin rhymes like a canine Day nine in line for welfare line time A pro lifer is the piper that I'd like ta uh roll a rolla roll on (line style ala O.Konfusion) If it is the early morning dawn I'll sing that song like Orlando, Tony, a white man, not a leader just a man too Saying what ya can't do cause ya typed it in stereo Like seeing a doughnut and calling it a Cheerio Heros and heros and heroins I'm here ta rectify all the comins and goins This moment in time is defined by ambiguity Plausible denial, no trial is the beauty Comin in ya ear with a mic and a drum Comin in ya ear with a mic Coo Coo ca chew I'm the Goats who are you Grab the microphone and do that thing that you do Ya call it rhymin, ha, that's so funny I forgot ta laugh I made better sounds than that come out the crack of my ass On my first day, my worst day, and even in my hearse day You couldn't write a rhyme If I gave you the first verse Ta play with sorta sloppily but make sure you gives props to me I don't play games so damn I hates Monopoly I'm the macho, hancho, nacho eatin Like tanto, I'm yo, smooth as a mutherfucker Draw the line because ya know the Jack-in-the-box will cross it And just in time 'cause for your mind I think they said ya lost it I said ya lost it, one more time, ya lost it Ya paid the cost for tryin to be somethin that your not A big shot but what ya got is a small spot And you can get a lickety lick lick shot 'Cause Jack-in-the-box is not drivin Mrs. Daisy I get what I got but not from old white ladies So save that shady shit for somebody's Uncle Tom 'Cause I ain't related and ya hate it when I drop a bomb 1 2 I'm gettin ta be the who's who Of the food for the thinkers I don't tinker with the winkers Like I Hop, I drop props at all hours Like Psycho, I might go stab Duke in the shower Scoobie Doo Fuck George Bush Doobie Da Yaaa Rhyme sayer, not a mayor, I don't pretend to be a player Flava, I hope the dopes listen to Chief Seattle He's not one for the battle or the paddle or the saddle Like Lite Beer from Miller, it is it and that's that Like Rhyme Beer from Killer, its the shit and phat's phat Spelled with a "P" just like in telephone Livin' in North Philly's a form of hell a home…not Comin in ya ear with a mic and a drum Comin in ya ear with a mic   GOT KINDA HI Yup, Yeah, its me my man Ya gettin kinda sober then lets me lend a hand Ta bring you up to the focal point, man I got the vocal joints Cops all around me, here an oink there an oink I love the blunts, ain't eight enough? I never get tired a smokin on that stuff 'Til I fall down holdin on the grass Ta keep from fallin off the earth and bustin my ass I'm the smoker, the joker, the midnight toker I huffed and puffed til I was on like Oprah Winfrey, the sensi was fuckin up my dome Hittin budda spliffs yeah the size of ice cream cones Then to quench my thirst I did the worst that I could do me Highed with the Ides, yeah, that shit threw me For a loss 'cause I was praying to the porcelain god I'll never drink again if I can make it out alive I love to smoke the bonger, I love to tap the keg From Philly with the Phillies, but that's my bidness Worry about your own damn thing It was one of those days for lounging and carousing Talking politics with 40's and pounding Wasn't feeling up to the Temple Challenge More into improving my killer rolling talents With the dip of the herb I speak the verbs ya never heard The medium is the rap and the gig is the curb Brother talking hoes like he's vicin' all the vermin But I saw him at the peep show playing Pee Wee Herman Mickey fickey you ya mickey ficker Ya was choking ya chicken but ya chicken got quicker And sicker from greasing while I'm just pleasing Myself with a blunt and ya know ya should be ceasing That bootie bootie true blues 'cause goodie goodie two shoes Don't like ya bad breaf from kissing all the coo coos Who claim any cock'll do but cock-a-doodle-doo I got my herb and my verbs and some ale ta get me thru I drink Old Crow, I smoke the fat bones From the day I la bo, but that's my bidness Worry about ya own damn thing So lets step down to South Street and pick up some cid If nobody's down there I know this other kid His name's John Hummel, he's got a fat bundle The green's what I mean guaranteed to make you humble So lets smoke til we stumble and fall down on our face If the hoodlums want to rumble then we'll have to roll the place I don't need a base hit but a case would be the shit Malt liquor works quicker, too much'll make ya sick Now we're all feeling nice that's precisely how we like it But never indulging in a vice when we mic it The goats ain't saints, so don't paint no pictures 'Cause nobody's perfect, if ya think so ask ya sister 'Cause she can pound a 40 faster than you and I My boys call her Shorty but she likes to get hi, so do I I smoke fatties, I pound forties I drop cid kid, but that's my bidness Worry about ya own damn thing   1 2 3 4 Oaty's my appellation, couldn't join the Zulu nation Can't use morals to attract skins at the station Need to send my salutation to the lady with the ride And the woman sitting on the inside Of a not so dumpy 1992 She can bring the paddle and I'll saddle a canoe Please listen to my blurb, it is never rock and roll You can live and die on rock and never find ya soul Train goes choo tee choo colored girls doot dee doo Or so says a rock and roller who thinks he's cooked life through Hmmmm, that's his testimony I ain't rapping hard so as not to be as phony Hi dee hi dee ho its off to work I trudge Two weeks of the year, yeah, I get to taste the fudge And budge, 'cause money makes me happy I ain't unique its this philosophy that's crappy My mental never petals or settles to the ghettos Fame'll keep you tame because the famers go insane Now I likes to break up the racks that you make up Time and time again because the shooter says "Hold up." Yo what's up bub? I'm scrappin' for my stubs My stubs are kinda scrappy so the gov just plays me scrub Push me like a pusher and ig me like a nig Figure, how you figure, why I can't be that big Man livin grand slappin all the hands Play the prez's right hand like Dan and Eatin caviar chillin at the bars But yo I think you know I'm drinkin Kool-Aid outta jars Tropical Punch, hey Tropical Punch The Goats have been quoted as to being out to lunch Just cause we crunch on political systems Wisdom hizim schism gives'em Sisters being treated like they are panty hose If a brother needs a blow give him kleenex for his nose I suppose that morals are the equalizer Measure a man by his rumping Energizer Can he do it all night long like the rhythm of the song Is he wide on the inside or skinny and long Do not get me wrong this blurb is not for toddlers I wrote it with my leg up as one of life's real hobblers Mind bogglers, I can never understand Why people make toddlers then treat them as garbage cans "Do not beat me, beat up on your kiddies" I did not make this up it is someone else's diddy Bitty combing hair hits her girl all too easy Girl grows up used to being treated sleazy Folks call her Breezy because she never complains But it was her mother who taught her to refrain   WRONG POT TO PISS IN Serve me up serve me up serve me up a plate a Styled linguistics flowing at a smooth rate a Commotion, the notion that we need to settle Look who called the kettle black so don't ya mettle, Jack I was turning now I'm done turning other cheeks You had ya time ta beef now let Madd like speak Ya just a Honey Nut, Honey Nut Cheerio I pour some ryhmes in and now you're soggy yo Cause while I'm shrivling you be getting fatter They swing me M A Double but my shit gets madder than that You run the flam so you think that you're a pissa You picked the wrong one, so kool it Mister Blisters is what ya got on your doubly bubbly lips You need some Campophonique before you try ta dip On this dye ya talking Jimmy Walker Ain't got Good Times on this so stop ya gawkin Well it's me the rhymer, me the poem sayer Me the funkee dunking b-ball player Never a slayer of the same genre propster I never wanted to be a gangster or a mobster And never a copster eating lobster on the take a Saying goodness saka to the humble honest Quakers Breaka da bump like a crystal coffee creamer Tell me how ya can school me if ya was born in a beamer Dreama American, cream of the very land Stolen from the Indians and brothers like Farrakan Trifle, its not like a flick starring Fievel Stifle, I won't, I'd join the bloods with the rifles Like Eiffel, the tower, I observe the oppression Pissy poor, here's a white boy's confession Twistin, ya vicin, the labor of the this mission George ya gotta lot of piss but the wrong pot to piss in Ya got the wrong pot pot, pot pot ta piss in Ya got the wrong pot pot, pot pot ta piss in David Duke you better put yours up or get koofed Passing the buck, but you outa luck with no proof, yeah Missed the pot cause you forgot about the hippahopper But Jack-in-the-Box pulled out the stops you know my piss is hotter S'gonna take a lot for you to get through if you don't pursue the truth Because I got a coup and if you get new I'm gonna turn it loose So here's your noose I made it white to match your wack ass hood And watch ya back cause Swayzack reacts damn good I think you better get respect and correctly sort it out Because we don't want to have to let Willie Horton out My man Rodney King would love a swing And if Yusef Hawkins was walking he'd say the same thing So go stand in the ring and burn a cross But your own hate fire transpired to burn your hoods off Step off or pay the cost for not listening That's when ya lost, ya picked the wrong pot to piss in Ya got the wrong pot pot, pot pot ta piss in Ya got the wrong pot pot, pot pot ta piss in

hip-hopola To the tic toc on my clock you know my swatch is tickin A finger licken on my fingers count the suckers vicin Should I be wishin that I'm sittin while the others missin The rhyme hittin now I'm dissin all the suckers hissin The beat breaks so you know the beat is being broke I awoke to find another record being soaked Should I hope and take a chance at being Ton-Loc Or should I freeze or in the winter wear a big goat I got it goin so you know I keeps it goin on The Madd is flowin so you know I rocks it to the morn I'm steady tearin while the others steady being torn The rhyme is forgone, so you been forwarned I'll kick it quick and keep the point sharp like a drill bit I write the rhymes, I write the rhymes, I got em throwin fits Now you can wonder how I rock the mic so swift Just ask King Britt he'll say it's just a gift I'm clockin props from the pops of the hip hops Non stop I'll never drop from the knock knocks Think not well a lot have fizzed to pop rock Its hard to cop when your socks are locked up in knots Its kinda crude kinda rude yo like ain't it dude They fed ta food and ya moved to a fatty groove Yeah ya sued but ya lose 'cause they left ya nude It's hard to prove when you choose to ignite the fuse I'm scoopin tunes like a spoon in some ice cream The punks feen what I mean is that thy are unclean They steady bite bein trite about some blue jeans I've never seen but I been around the scene I keep it silly, kinda chilly, when my tongue swings When I'm down, I make a sound, a kinda ding ding I never sing but I bring a groovy thing To my group, yeah the troop, in which I cling If the Jim it is inside ya then ya know where Oatie's at The funkee music junkee jonesin for rhymes like it is crack Crack of either kind it is somewhat addicting Like the material greed and the dollars doing dickin Sticking to the riffing of the money grubbers picking If ya got outs ta sell then then ya just hoing and tricking Not like Halloween but like that little house in Texas And here ya thought a ho was just one of the sexes Record reps perplex us by signing the signers So this is a blurb for all those who carry a binder No pager, no papes, no jism in the drapes No Sam Goody shelving their CD's or their tapes Sticking to the hip hop like its True as a smoker Watching the rise and fall of some vanilla faced joker We hear it from the greenbloods we hear it from the duckers Who are selling outs to some wack rap buying suckers Ya got a little sick with a wheeze and a cough Ya took a step to the cliff then ya tripped and ya fell off The goats are cuttin throats traveling miscogenic Cause that's the way we like it funky frenetic   ¿Do the DIGS DUG? A hero ain't nothin but a sandwich I mean, well I need a hoagie if I am to manage Ta fill myself up and stay fat Yo yo I gotta kick the raps, yo yo I gotta keep da naps Well, see, its like this um, I forgot ta mention You was clingin on my wing ding swingin like the ring ling Suckers on the trapeze back and forth please I keeps ya on ya toes ta keeps ya off ya knees Oops, I'm sorry, I'm just a Goat-man ach First ya did some flips but now ya just flopped Damn, ouch, I didn't mean ta be that blunt I gave ya whatcha got cause I gots whatcha want Bustin through the door, bustin through the door Found the corporate heads dippin Bush like a whore Say, what is it for, what is if for? The green, the green, please back me some more Leonard Peltier Leonard Peltier Who da hell is that, why the fuck should ya care? In jail, in jail, in jail like a dealer Fuck George Bush says my T-Shirt squeeler Please oh please set Leonard P. free Cause ya wiped out his race like an ant colony Whatcha afraid of, Annie Mae Aquash? Found her lying in the ditch with no place for a watch ¿Do the Dugs Dig? ¿Do the Digs Dug? I don't dig apple pie 'cause its an American lie Because I dug between the lines and all I found was swine Direct control, we won't fold or succumb, I mean, Be overcome, I mean, you know what I mean The green team ain't down with the white house clowns Pushing around mounds of shit trying to pound it down our throats But dig it, I'd rather have a bud than a scud, dug it Cause Swayzack's pour'n salt on the slugs So unplug it, the T.V., 'cause I don't need to see Dan Rather cause the chatter doesn't matter to me They're try'n to lather me up but they're suds are weak But I'm gonna burn the Bushes and cut the Quayle's beak Uh oh, yo, here I come again Holdin up the crap like the diaper, Depends Aw George, ya don't pay attention Put down the golf clubs and stop takin away the pensions Whatcha ma call it, the Emancipation Procla…somethin It doesn't mean a thing cause back then I wasn't nothin Just 1/3 of, what's that word, um, human Fuck that "Four score", furthermore I'm fumin What's their face ah Powell I know ya dig it A general, an officer, a pig to a piglet They're both givin time, They're both gettin mine Its time for the Goats ta roast swine ¿Do the Dugs Dig? ¿Do the Digs Dug? Let me check my glock cause it's time to be checkin it In this age of no phase ya know who's gonna be wreckin it With the crazy, spacy, Hendrix like Hazy Purple maple syrple, jump the hurdle never lazy Flim flam of Uncle Scam makes ya guard ya wad Got heads of the state deciding fates like god Making racists out of toddlers, soldiers out of bums Put that wad in front of congress and see who cums First 'cause their cuttin funds like liverwurst Curse about the purse and they'll drop ya in the hearse With niggers shooting blacks, feds supply the gats Dropping 8 ball jackets like Minnesota Fats Congratulations on your biggest stunt yet But you can't hit my blunt if your lips are wet, baby Call me crazy, but I'm not the pretentious type Just looks like maybe you was on the pipe So go take another pull off that glass dick They way you drool, I'd think your lips were elastic I asked Madd, he said you got your ass kicked Try'n to play your pops for his plastic Swayzack, cuttin tracks on the head cracks Try'n to slay some monkeys for the junkies Stay back and put the caps on the hat rack Cause here's the plan the man's gonna get funky ¿Do the Dugs Dig? ¿Do the Digs Dug?   T.V. COPS Some used to step 'cause they didn't know I worked Others use to step 'cause they didn't know I hurt Plaguing me with problems cause they thought I was a gangster Gassed like a tanker no time for po pranksters I was spliffed from the giddy up They didn't give a fuck, so I didn't give a fuck Hat to the back and my jeans way saggin Hittin some freestyle, frontin and braggin Mindin my own biz when they wanna stop me Hungry for some doughnuts but they chose to pop me Female and a brother, should I say another Word cause ya know how this Goat is gettin served ID name and number Up against the wall cause we're startin to wonder Ya got alot a dollars in your pocket for a fuckin bum Hands on the wall and assume the position Clubs start pokin, I'm like man you must be jokin Just because I do some tokin, big blunt smokin It can happen to you because it happened to me Cause these ain't the cops that you see on T.V. I'm inclined to say my part Enable me to explain how I was labled from the start I was feeling like Cupid tryin to capture a heart But an arrow's really stupid so I made like a dart Started to sprint but I was stopped in my tracks By a couple of cops, they were white and uptight, right So I didn't try to fight as they grabbed me by my back Cause cops can overreact and I thought they might attack But picture that, Swayzack a criminal I busted a rap because they obviously just didn't know So here we go to make a long story shorter Swayzack ain't game for the bread and the water Then the order was to lay on the ground Put your hands on your head, don't make a muthafuckin sound They're breakin me down but they still ain't found nothin They frontin 'cause here's one blunt they missed My fist was clenched around a big fat spliff It can happen to you 'cause it happened to me And these ain't the cops that you see on TV Step to the line and drop ya drawers for the inspector I'm not homophobic but these cops got my rector In full view on the conjecture that I might hide a blade In the shade of the pore that was there when I was made Shit, I've got one brother in the Pit Of the wriggly piggies who are throwing a pig type fit "Shut ya fucking face kid or I'll friggin lick ya" "Grab ya ankles like Bo Jangles or I'll fuckin kick ya" Verbally abusive's not conducive to a transition Just a bunch a boys in blue gettin' ya used ta the system Of the rapists and murderers and the Sons of Sons of Sam But look at where I am saying Uncle Scam I am Sick of the piggies making me drop my fuckin skivies Sick of being arrested when I haven't done diddly Being riddled with the abuses in prison No segregation by law, well check out this division "Head to the hoosegow head ta the slammer Head to the roundhouse grab a sledge-hammer" Arrested four times but never found guilty But these ain't the cops that ya see on TV (Dedicated to Rodney Jermaine Cook)   Not Not Bad Well I'm hip to the tip with a rif in this skit Ya looking for the quick about the bit well this is it Its easy, cheesey, to play the sleasy greasy Quick with the tongue, saying anything ya please see Oh here's a way out, let's minimize the skills Not not bad for a whatever, I hopes it pays the bills But the mental pills that ya takin make ya life eazier to swallow He can hoop for a dago, that's the way go, ya follow? Separate into races but there's only one track Jessie Owens gets the gold but that's the gold for the black guy That's wack, ya doing too many lines Its time ya snorted up the one of the color kind 'Cause ya not bad for a racist so when ya gonna face it Ya feeding gorrillas Ex-Lax just trying ta go ape shit Dig it, who juiced ya like a turbo bass booster? Stop cocking ya head like the king of the roosters It's not not bad for a dago Not not bad for a nigger They fed me Alpo like a doggie till my face gets mushed and soggy A T-bone steak if my vision stays foggy I just scored a touch down not bad for a nigger Now tell me how ya figure when I try to get bigger Master disaster much faster cause I hasta Braver life-saver clingin on long lasta Use ta drink Shasta but now I just passa A blunt not a blasta call no drug massa Never makes amends when I tends ta ends Nor do I bend friends because a friend depends On me cause I'm reliable some might say incitable Yo I don't flim flam on shit that's fightable So quick do I intake take it, cake I can't quite bake it Labels can't shake shake it so I'm grown and prone ta break it Up and run amuck a ducks, salty I made a buck I made it on my own, so what the fuck? It's not not bad for a nigger Not not bad for a dago Not bad for a kid who used to sleep in cars Plastic bags and rags gettin flagged from bars I wear the scars like tags on a car That's where I was here's where we are By far the maddest political raptivist Attack, but miss, you pompous pretentious bitch 'Cause I got you a spot at the top of my piss list Brothers pump your fist like this if you dig it Not bad for a wild child they screamin Too bad 'cause the foster family's sceamin Social worker, yeah what's your plan G A bunch of fuckin' hypocrites is all you can be Don't tell me shit about doin time I've done mine But I've done no crime And this ain't a bad rhyme right? psyche 'Cause the mutha fuckin Goats is all of that It's not not bad for a nigger Not not bad for a dago   aaah deee yaaaa People are walking people are talking Walking and talking to this funky jive Better if its baked like a tasty cake Sit back and listen to this viscous vibe About the pro lifers the real pied pipers With millions starving they want ya ta crank out more Abandon them in diapers to become the real lifers Doing 5 ta 10 for robbing a liquor store Full time lobby run by Ed and Bobby And a bunch of women who are safe from the semen The Holy Bible makes pro choice libel Its not 5 AD so stop ya dreamin Nigger bashing, dago thrashing Racial epithets are for the unthinking man Rappers cash in cause its the fashion I can't walk on water so I won't try drinking sand Aah D. Yaa Billions and billions of unfunked civilians Doing the ninety five in the ninety two Beige ole abode in a beige pavilion Having billions of kids who have nothing to do A Quayle is a bird and birds have bird brains A Bush is a shrub and shrubs never lie Doing the 95 in a summer resort Doing the 95 in a suit and a tie Protection dwindles and the police swindle Tax dollars caught in a political sludge Open your vent dis the government Too much inertia it will never budge Yes, mommie dearest, we got political careerists Green blood pumping through their every veins For the corporations, doing hip gyrations Making green dollars and leaving red blood stains Aah D. Yaa I am Oatie from the hopping Goaties Trying real hard to add bran to ya diet Eat it whole grain, with butter or plain Substance for to keep ya stomach quiet I'm MA-Double, the shaver of the stubble The sublimer of rhymers if that's cool with you I get in a trance and do the funkee dance Busting da half steppers with a trusty pool cue My name is Pat but you can call me Swayzack You can call me Jack 'cause its all the same But due to the fact that I react like that You can't label brain so what's in a name This bread will rise not fall Please don't smoke those Pall Malls To all dissenters smoking Menthols We say that's all (end ala DeLaSoul)  (Song dedicated to John Trudell)

Sign up to be put on our mailing list or just send us an email. We love communication. Thanks. bondzinho@hotmail.com Or just tell us what you would like to see here. Or comment.

one take willie, oatie, sway and madd

schmoove cutting it up in itacare, bahia, brasil, January 1 2001