Hug Life

by Jonah

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This is my debut mixtape. I hope you all will enjoy.
You can easily get in touch with me at my Twitter: @JonahRaps.

In 2014, I put a whole lot into a little bit of tracks. I like 'em. They were about a year in the very, very SLOW making. However, I enjoyed every second of it.

Recorded in my bedroom with a Blue Snowball microphone and mixed straight into Ableton Live 9.

In case you're having problems downloading from Bandcamp:

Thank you, all!


released April 6, 2014

Written/Recorded/Mixed by Jonah.
Production: Rythmatical, Realms, Madlib and J Dilla.
'Wouldn't Last' - Asher Roth.
Special Thanks: Unorthodocks for inspiration, Realms, Rythmatical and Madlib for the sweet beats, RIP Dilla, and Spiff for driving me to finish this damn tape.



all rights reserved


Jonah Tallahassee, Florida

Music is still alive.

Influences: MF DOOM, Nas, Milo, Earl Sweatshirt, Chance the Rapper.

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Track Name: Barriers (Prod. Rythmatical)

Sample from Charlie Chaplin’s ‘The Great Dictator’.

[Verse 1]

Wanna succeed so bad as an original cat
And combat every lack in every turn up track
And blacken this game like a seared scorch stain
Then retain my reign as every mainstream’s bane
And claim a little fame to this gay emcee name
As I’ve been called, appalled, by todays embrace
But am I supposed to be proud and stand up erect?
And not correct the specs of these train wrecks that we elect?
Well that’s dangerous talk for a kid who raps stupidly
Ignores how good Luda be and barely hit puberty
Well goodness me, didn’t see that being 16 breeched free speech
So fuck it he’s a kid, ignore his lips and rid his preach
Yo what’s behind these teeth ain’t just curses
Blurted into words then heard ‘cause this world ain’t perfect
And are you sure kid, ‘cause fame’s a real burden
And frankly this earth is really knowledge allergic


Just wanna be something in the eyes of these nice
Emcee guys and kind mic barrers
I want the kids to bump my rhymes instead of scarier
Gang peers but feelin my years career

[Verse 2]

So much holding me back but I’ll ignore the evidence
Forget its presence and hide in the cleverness
Of every other header-worthy spitter in my litter early
Rap bloomers that’ll later lead like Twitter-clergy
Yeah, you heard me our time might not be now
But funny thing about time, it matures with every crowd
And learns with every frown and yearns for every town
Just wants to be the next sound, crown the new noun
A renown cycle older folks despise highly
In fifty years screamin “God take us back to Miley!”
In twenty seven cheers could be as real as Boots Riley
Wisely spittin heat, the new cheap kicks are Nikes
And yo, cry me a river ‘cause you’re young
I know it’s the time for fun, in their eyes getting drunk
But the bars on my tongue ain’t the same ones that bump
These grown ass men rich off pretending they Donald Trump

[Hook 2]

Just wanna be something in the eyes of these nice
Emcee guys and kind mic barrers
I want the kids to bump my rhymes instead of scarier
Gang peers but feelin my years career Barriers
I’m feelin my Barriers
Track Name: Counting Sheep (Prod. Realms)
Counting Sheep

Sample from Jim Dorsey’s ‘Tangerine’


Slip it quick into a conundrum, humble no humbug
Dip the kids into a Sleeping Beauty type of slumber
Lulled her when I grabbed the mic and spiked a slow number
Lack thunder what they gabbed, hashtag Jonah’s Tumblr
Put them in a bad mood, flow into a top down
Boom bap rap with a two digit tempo sound
That’s the way I like it, that’s the way I like to spit
Clip the other rappers yappers if you don’t like it
Brittle voice, flee-bitten little kid with a little bit
Of faith in himself backed by a drum kit
Spittle on his bib and dribblin to puddle up his confidence
But I’m flippin this high chair and kickin out of my crib
‘Cause all my life I’ve been hearing I’m too young just quit
I’ll set fire to stupidity instead of bong hits
And roll up a little bit of soul instead of blunt rips
And trip on every rich spittin, struggle talkin clique
‘Cause legit, right now don’t care if you hate my lines
All I got in this mix is my heart, soul and time
And dude, it’s all fine if you wanna crush these rhymes
Wouldn’t be the first perp to hurt my rep, despise my vibe
And gripe to the world, he’s just a high-voiced lie
Another cry hurtin Kanye’s time to shine in the light
For every other bribe cheering high for the life
Of a celebrity who cleverly is robbin ‘em blind
Now all my bars are free so come and peep my dream and passion
A lashin for every thumbs down, around passin my ration
I’m willin to share these maverick tracks and all of this like cash-in
But ain’t nothing physical split, my mix a hit and no c-note labyrinth
Madness, I just feel that need no commitment happen
This tape ratchet then scratch it and carry on to better rappin
‘Cause half you think I’m crap another fourth want faster trap kits
And my tongue callus from blabbin about your less than average ‘rappists’
It’s a habit, I’m sorry, that’s your opinion, your choice
And I’m mad as hell when cats put down Nas to boost their voice
Then embroid this silly void in every hip song deployed
On the stereo blaring noise, backing hunt for groin
Poison to my ears with cheers for raps death found in gore
Insuring that my tracks belong behind closed elevator doors
Poured onto ground floor and dumped for short a life in store
For sure, nobody will want them, less a profit than a chore
I’m less a prophet than Yeezy and I’m sorry I ain’t more
Just a kid scribbling pen to pad, a lad that hit record
Not a rapper backed by boards, bored by his fans adore
Whore towards his mic, might just rhyme when that wallet’s feeling poor
Track Name: Enigma (Prod. Madlib)

Sample from ’21 Jump Street’


Vinyl made us, blood-sweat nation
Tryin to drop swag into a permanent hiatus
Caters to the haters of these old school beats
Stealing? I call it re-dealing music at its peak
It’s an enigma to them, these names that are a glimpse
Into a world of rap that boom-bap’d those kids
Wish I could’ve been there, impaired now musically
Wish Bigs could have sat down, wouldn’t cap out and tutor me
Wish you could see what beats really ought to be
Stuck between layers of kick and snare like ricotta cheese
Read the label free lips, listen to Spose spit
Don’t need Universal to hurtle out hits
Yo, call Yeezus and get him on the file
And pile up the rivals only for media revival
All the while claiming libel when the press portrays slime balls
That they are, below par heart covered by a bible
And tittle the greats of the beats, spit heat with tight flows
You clever like DOOM? No you’ll never come close
And hoes with loose flows got more potential than bros
Who are more average than Joes and ‘bout as different as clones
Can you show me how to make it? Be trash
Flow ass and rap just about the money you stack
And be ignint to facts when your crack surpass the clap
And you lack the wit to see it’s in reverse like a beat trap
But alas good tracks ain’t past
Presently discrepancies separate passion and cash
Hunch and laugh ‘cause you’re prolly not have bad
But grab easy cash ‘cause lately cats would rather have that
And say I’m blabbering, a rap badgering badger
A tatter to mainstreams quilt, less thought than laughter
Poor flow and getting badder, more proud than a bragger
Rather not chance another kid you have to call ‘the rapper’
Track Name: Tissue (Prod. Realms)


I’m feelin like your tissue ‘cause I heard he might have hit you
Then ditched you all crippled, impressed his face into your temple
And dribbled a little spittle down your face to make you hiccup
A jolt of his dismissal just so he could see your nipples
Damn, a fine man you had grasped in your hands
Wanna relapse to that, wanna smash then trash can
Goodness ma’am, and gracious god she’ll demand a plan
For a brand new dance a day after she ripped a ring from hand
Promised land, I’ll never reach it
Another leach on her regret before I can even preach it
Jesus I’m screamin, ‘cause she don’t know why Papi’s leavin
Not appreciate of my grievance bank for storing all her secrets
In pieces she weepin greeted by staring at her cleavage
I see that you are weepin but just need a little Aretha
Just need a little respect for all this shit that I am keeping
Deep in my weak meat and pleading I’ll be the next to treat you right
The cold knife of life setting in
Grinned when grim thoughts creeped to seep into blend
Of hems and the penned thoughts unlocked from my within
To see just ‘cause she a ten don’t mean she queen enough for this
Her gimmicks, always there, trippin me into this rare
State of mind where her binds are winding me to always care
Unprepared when she swears that he beat her then shared
A death threat to that ex or whatever the heck I bare
Just don’t compare to his hair and body soppin up some stares
Apparent that fair isn’t darin to drift towards my care
Wearing char marks on cats from half drab affairs
And little hands snatching shards from the hearts she ensnared
The Blair Witch is prolly jealous of her powers
To flower the graves of shapes she made from clay trousers
And cower back browsers that mistakenly found her
Turned them all to cowards then returned them, no vouchers
Gas showers, seeping prowlin through slits in her tongue
Strung up some dumb sons and dried ‘em out to hung
Bum day when a one relationship’s done
And one young kid is left to drudge and pick up all the crumbs
Now hon, why try so hard to pop that bra?
Crawl through all her hotness just to draw a short straw?
Why not just stop and grab a different bitch by the paw?
Not worth all the drama, wanna put the Prada on pause
All her nonsense, rich fits and priss ridden elegance
That’s crippling every gentlemen when sippin in her presence
And revel it ‘cause your relevance is tested by her heaven kissed
Bliss just want to hit but kid her hell’s permanent residence
But it’s intense, this feeling to persue
Her one-two bouncing steps that hop to a crude tune
And why do I ruin my life by buying that boohoo
To move a tissue to her loathe in hopes to be the next bruise
Track Name: Prisoners (Prod. J Dilla)

Sample from WIllie Jones III’s ‘The Thorn’ and an interview with Kendrick Lamar.


Look at this white kid, Dilla beat for the views
Intruding his groove so Christian girls will jump from their pews
And spew out the curses lurkin in Maybach tunes
And swoon at the Hearses herdin the real cats they shoot
And we didn’t do a thing ‘cause we figured they were all talk
Wouldn’t walk the walk, just wanted to knock a beat to drop
Then cop a gold chain or two to symbolize their cash
Pockets fat from rap they tracked by turning art to trash
Bass and clap, defacing cats, a few chewed butts of zags
Crew cuts and young bloods, dodging cuffs and robbing dads
Of their sons, blunt rippin, yellin Bloods
Huffing paint, snorting shame, using knives to mug for guns
Run bitches run ‘cause their shit’s taking over
Make over from loafers to a sagging, bragging poser
And no sir, that odor, ain’t a dying breed of voters
Who can’t read, thug disease, fleein pigs like Kosher
And a MAD city surrounding this song
Saw the wrong in convicts scripting through bong hits
And why grip bottles and call it role modelin
Topple pride when teetering, toddler drunk wobbles it
Keep ‘em popping kid ‘cause that’s what I do
Chew up some lies and make you try lighting it too
Treat the fans uncouth and women like shoes
Blow about two hundred, get ‘em off then on to buying new
Whack a dude, shoot up his crew then steal away his sister
If this is mainstream then I guess I wanna be hipster
Roll up my jeans instead of poison ears of the listeners
Critters of habit, we’ll scratch it and pact to not be crimes prisoners
Mister mister, a misfit truth twister
Didn’t shoot that cat it’s a different finger blister
Bitter taste and picture blood-stained brain trigger pullin
Drifter rulin, grippin gruelin thoughts to profit richer
Yo, it’s just the game, bounding round to keep it sane
Deranged cranial thoughts pacing blank through the brain
And breaking shattering panes, way past it’s okay
To be vacant in remorse, only endorsing all the pain
To stay famed, paving these grave stone names
Raping then, dropping casings to ensure you stay traced
In the pavement for your claim to anything even strayin
From the plain way they fake the hate then hide behind some prayin
Track Name: Sphere (Prod. Realms)


Wishin love was still here, demeanor feeling unclear
Mere shell of a weird kid steering from the routine sphere
Hearing the other’s fears cheered, commandeering my ears
Like I heard you loud and clear just been ignoring you for years
And if my peers won’t join me then I really don’t care
Bare a mic and raise a fist or trip on every tear
But better send up a prayer ‘cause these pages draping where
Life has been read a lot of times so got to settle down and share
And to my heirs soon inheriting their logic
My frothing mouth of knowledge forgot skeletons it closets
Hardly conscious, an old prophet slippin truths to make ‘em nauseous
But I didn’t vomit, just rotted in this world though I fought it
Honest, and when I botched it I closed my eyes and ran
Prayin prayers to repair the selfie smell in the air
Twelve year old glares while daring nipple slip parental care
Impaired? Or just scared to stand different and aware?
Oh contraire ‘cause there’s some left respecting their aspects
Or accepting their restless loving parents every last breath
Blessings digress from hope to duck out to elope
Then broken homes lead to bones and your own MTV show
Grown at sixteen and broke, lonely sifting through jokes
And blows about the blow that she regret she ever smoked
You know the nicest thing she hears is that he’s horny with dough
Then loaded into his car to be regarded as another hoe
Yo, that’s the circle that’s trapping our youth
And the proof is every cute kid you never thought would abuse
A little truth they knew would void eternity in locked rooms
And a chance to groom their own path but lackin a single clue
But that won’t be me, so why let it be you?
Why let it be a kid you know could change at their roots?
Let’s move these poison crews like the Kardashian hoot
And let’s change this generation, slowly rakin out the grooves
Track Name: Wouldn't Last
Wouldn’t Last

Original beat – ‘Lark on My Go Kart’ by Asher Roth

[Verse 1]

What they sayin ‘bout my cadence when I lay down my Le Mis
Lam riddlin rapper, Mad Hatter like I’m raven
Double entendre ‘cause I’m ravin crazy when I’m tapin
But that unsolvable shit that Alice tripped on ain’t the same thing
He won’t last, explainin lines that he trashed
And platting baps that he snatched from every last rappers stash
Just clap, then we’ll dash, unplug our cables from the back
Of all known modems hosting any Hug Life tracks
And that’ll be his last tape, so help me it’s a fact
But I’m fighting back and rapping craft that most the other gabbers lack
Hooking fast and juking laughs from the critics and the brash
I beat what they shrieked to me, I’m feelin free so come and dap


And they said it wouldn’t last
Said it wouldn’t last
And they said it wouldn’t last
And they said it wouldn’t

[Verse 2]

So if you love that girl go get her
Ain’t getting younger by the day, afraid of what she might say
Stuck dreamin of the way that life could’ve been paved
If you would’ve raised that chest and asked that question all brave
Hate runs through my veins when I regret my retched
Mind that I threw, now I’m slitherin off to fetch it
Catchin every breathless night, sleep deprived brethren
‘Cause we’re wishin that we did it back when getting was the best and
Good heavens, I’m feeling so damn irrelevant
Making poor decisions then relive ‘em for the hell of it
Delegate for the delicate rebel gaining the leverage
Towards every kid that missed the chance to kiss and then revel it


[Verse 3]

Well they say a lot of shit but they talk out their ass
That blabbin a crafted ratchet flabbergasted type of crap
That drafts through every hole of ever heart in every cat
And packs a little punch with the lunge it drags
Hunch and laugh, ‘cause we’re better than that
Don’t need a letterman jacket to practice your craft
Just crack through the norms and pour through the swarms
Of Jordans parkouring on hoards blaring Lorde
And roar like the whore to music’s core you restored
By boring trap tracks that drop fast and lack chords
Of course you’re much more than folks expecting life’s doors
To pour open, judging cats on their Flappy Bird scores
Hear, hear

[Verse 4]

And I don’t really know yet if I’m proving them wrong
Still screwing in the bolts to upholding my songs
And prolonging every strong line I write, scripting life
I love so excuse me while I kiss the sky
By and by the time flies remembering all it hides
In the lines of every bride we didn’t bind in then dive
Into life with everything we ever wanted at our side
Bite our lips and gotta try, dreams aren’t made following lies

Track Name: Cardboard Crowd (Prod. Realms)
Cardboard Crowd (Venom)


They say that these fans is hard to love, after a week it’s enough, just want to give up
But yo, ya’ll are my thrive, quietly, writing my blood
And if it’s just a cardboard crowd out there to indulge in Jonah’s little lulls that he wrote for those
Those cardboard folks, I ain’t receiving your venom but hopes


For you I groped this mic and struck life into bars
That hard knocked my life, hit like lightning strikes tend to char
Every par-lowing hard, cart racin for a chart
Spot copping little mark carvin heart breaking narc
That ain’t my card, a white kid alarmed
By the dark ages of spot taking, fakin every bar
Then enlarge an ego, evil people leapin through beat deceitful
Read a little regal credence, heathen when reapin religion lethal
People, these ain’t the words of your leader
Just a creature speaking eager freedom thoughts of a proper teacher
And maybe it’s Unorthodocks, a real preacher harboring the secret
Of the larger part of a garbage cart he sparked then parched the speakers
Of repeat offenders, charged with makin crap then a killing
Willingly trippin on bitchin about the gangs they representin
And it’s hard to be ten and live that hug life when daddy’s Cryptin
Keepin respect for that cardboard kid and visions from a masked villain

[Hook 2]

They say that these fans is hard to love, and after a week it’s enough, just want to give up
But yo ya’ll are my thrive, ya’ll quietly are writing my blood
And if it’s just a cardboard crowd out there to indulge in Jonah’s little lulls that he wrote for (those x3)
Cardboard folks, ya’ll ain’t receiving my venom but my hopes