Space Camp

by SpaceLAB Recordings

  • Streaming + Download




released January 1, 2012


© 2011 SpaceLAB Recordings
℗ Palumbo's Escrow (ASCAP)

SPC 017



all rights reserved
Track Name: Special O.P.S. (Obnoxious Posse Song)
(Mike N.O.T.E.S)

Checkmate - death move
Duct tape - Med School
My intentions usually the best cool
Candyman, Candyman, Candyman - Dead Pool
Mike N.O.T.E.S from the way of the black powder
Lights out, then it's red soup, clam chowder
Fuck armies - pieces of a man power
Left on a beach like a war-time sand shower
Killing is, whatever the killer does
Eyes be the last thing I get a vision of
Well, either that or the cylinder
Dex Starks dreams, I'm the passenger visitor

(Ed Ward)

SpaceLAB live by the code, we like the Mafia
Loose lips sink ships, so we gon' have to body ya
25th Hour, I levitate & I win chips
I need closure? The goons come for the witness
Brains on your briefcase, told you to mind your business
Black Ops shit, the shottie's out with the kickstand
We in the desert, your body's out by the quicksand
Full Metal Jacket, the slacks over the wing-tips
Contract killer - I don't need cash
Probably notice me with shades over my ski mask
We in all black, at your funeral
God hates ugly, so killing you is beautiful

(C-Zar Van Gogh)

Like Buffalo, I'm f*****g cold
I'm up to no good till I double dough
Like two hand-tossed pizzas, R&B flea-flickers
Cause we hand-toss diva's
Ceez is
Banging through your speakers like a reason
And you need to put it in your vein like a needle
I'm flyer than a plane, I'm sharper than a pencil
Now why I need a plane when I can do it in a rental?
Call the coroner up, drew you up a stencil
Then a n***a dipping like I'm Orenthal Simpson
Hand dripping, and I'm limping like I did it
Start the Bronco up, then I light me up a Benson

(Jake Palumbo)

Special O.P.S., obnoxiously noxious
Preposterous posse songs, dog - we got this
Popping bottles on a Gaza Strip couch, man
I raise Rambo's, call me Colonel Troutman
Howitzer shells to the dome of this business
Guns of The Navarrone, sickle-cell sickness
My dick trickle? Chick, you'll be swimming with fishes
I ain't afraid of shit, I got God on speed-dial
Meanwhile, back at the ranch
With a half-pound of hash
And that's just your president's personal stash
The national currency is SpaceLAB Cash
Which is vinyl LP's and Armenian ass


Welcome to the wonderful rap game!
James is the first & Ciphurphace is the last name
Went from Sun Tran to the PATH Train
Still smacking wack rappers that act lame
Cause they come a dime a dozen
Inclined to frontin'
Every line they're bluffing, claiming their nine's are busting
I should be signed, or something
My rhymes are crushing
My mind's accustomed to formulate divine rhyme production
Listen here, shit-for-brains
I could care less about your Twitter name
Administer so much punishment to wack rappers
They call me Mr. Pain
Your crew's a bunch of squares like picture frames
SpaceLAB murdering your whole squad's how you get your fime

(Mo Kofuma)

No time for that misery stuff
Get these n****s out my face 'fore they get Hilary Duffed
SpaceLAB - when we done, yeah we gonna have a monument
Putting in so much work, n****s thinking we Communists
New disease - call it Emcee Strain
Voices automatically in tune, call me T-Pain
Flow water, I don't even need rain
PSP in my back pocket, always bring game
Yeah I'm on the rise, call me King James
No baby boy, n****s call me Ving Rhames
Yeah we vultures
Teams spit cannons and we cultured
Mighty healthy like a cup of Dannon
Ya dig? No Yoplait.
Track Name: Gotham Heights - Can You Do The Robot

When you in the club, can you do the robot…for me?
So energized, dance moves so synthesized


There’s no emotion in her face…
There’s no depression on her face…
There’s no expression on her face…
So I gotta check her face…book.
So I had to go online to find out what her status is
She’s going to the club expose her apparatuses
Now she’s downloaded on the dance grid
Her little tight skirt burned into your brain
She’s got that firmware all up on her mainframe
The other motherboards are nervous
She’s the newest version with the newest circuits
She don’t like music, only Techno\
She don’t like Hip-Hop, only Electro
Now she’s Skynet, living the fly way
She needs drugs, life on the super highway
She thought the speed and the rush would stop the suffering
But her server’s ‘bout to crash and she’s buffering
And she said, “All of the buyers recommend me, my low self esteem makes me user friendly”


When you in the club, can you do the robot…for me?
So energized, dance moves so synthesized


Walk around the club looking for a little Wi-Fi
Chick with no connections I’m looking for real “Wi-Fi”
And then I seen her autotuned demeanor
Went C-Minor like, damn! when I seen her
Girl of my dreams insomnia with the Photoshop
She pose with rappers and models in all her mobile shots
Star on Skype, celebrity she expose a lot
She on Twitter and Tumblr posting ‘round the clock
Damsel in distress, look and see Andromeda
A load of lingerie sexual erotica
Her name Robotica, Oops! I mean Veronica
Said she liked my database she wanna give me monitor
Hit the bar, yeah them bottles are the scenery
Yeah we wasted now, robots in the V.I.P.
Was she a good girl searching for her own man?
Or she a bad chick beautifully programmed?


When you in the club, can you do the robot…for me?
So energized, dance moves so synthesized


My basis? Need to know
Blueblood money, DaVinci Code
Streets paved, whip solid gold
And it’s still drippin’ C-3PO
Hop out! Fresher than some watercrest
(Swanked out!) Swanked out so gross-man call me Rex
Electricity, electricity
I told her what I wanted she asking for specificity
I said, “Baby just poison me with your laced potion”
She said she down for whatever but she don’t like Trojans
I said, “We on different algorithms”
Then I dipped off and let the club scene cloud the vision
Now I’m peeping with an Eagle Eye
At this new shorty who told me she liked to see G.I. (CGI)
I said, “I’m no soldier”
But then her stare wandered
“Who you here for?”
She told me, “John Connor”



When you in the club, can you do the robot…for me?
So energized, dance moves so synthesized
Track Name: Ciphurphace - Capital Punishment

In A Battle, I'm Straight Running Shit
This is, this is Capital Punishment
In A Battle, I'm Straight Running Shit
This is, this is Capital Punishment

Live from AZ-rappers get aborted like a troubled fetus when I pummel Phoenix
Spin you down in a spiral like a double-helix
This ain't a subtle remix-the gift I shoot like a can of spray in Santa Fe
Rappers I eat a clan a day-they end up in the ocean w/ the manta rays
They pay the cost in Austin Texas-from talkin' reckless-quite often wreck shit-these rappers end up in a coffin neck slit
In Denver-my agenda is to dismember every pretender and member of your crew no matter the gender - as you witness my splendor
Catch a wack emcee in Salt Lake City
Hit em wit my microphone and watch his jaw break quickly
I don't care who's in your squad in Carson City
Man your bars are shitty-I keep it hard & gritty
To the fake rappers frontin like gangstas in Sacramento
You don't stack bread-you wouldn't have lead if you had a pack of pencils
Roll up to Oregon-I don't care for Salem
Smash wack rappers that's dumber than Sarah Palin
You emcees in Olympia could have a millennia
Still wouldn't have anything dope if you worked on a Coca plantation in Bolivia
These cats try to flow in Boise, Idaho
Heart cold like its five below-you & ya boys be dyin slow


Catch a helluva lyrical ass whoopin' in Helena
Ciph is a Toyota Land Cruiser - you're just a Celica
I heat it up like a fry pan in Cheyenne
I don't care if it's just you and the mic stand
or you're rockin wit a live band
Word to Wu-i spit darts that rip hearts in Bismarck-the mic it gets sparked-this is the sick art
Of murderin mc's-it comes natural like how I breathe air
Leavin mc's scared in Pierre-yall needin' a priest there
You just think you a rapper-wit the ink I'm a master
You're on the brink of disaster in Lincoln, Nebraska
I got the true mc advantage-a beast a savage
I feast and ravage emcees from Topeka, Kansas
When I flow-show no pity-roast your whole committee in Oklahoma City-I got Arizona wit me
Stop your flow like stones in kidneys-i do my thang yall
Lyrical rainfall on rappers in St. Paul
I don't play yall-in a battle get sliced up like tenderloins
In Des Moines-end up on my Death List like Donald Goines
I bring skills & fury - kill in a hurry
In Jefferson City Missouri - the ink spills-a flurry
Of words that are big boulders to smash you Little Rock rappers
In Arkansas-I spark the raw and kill you soft bastards
I've blown my rappin fuse-I'm lackin screws
I'm smackin crews - Louisiana style in Baton Rouge
Verbal assassin quick & witty-rappin' sick & gritty
Smackin' clicks & kiddies in Jack-son, Mississippi
Wisconsin rappers-I'm battlin in Madison
Smashin em-makin sure they never ever rap again
Battlegrounds on your Springfield in Illinois
I'ma killa boy-kill the noise-when I leave-you'll feel destroyed


I'm real and immaculate-in Indianapolis
I'll crush you-put you on your city's inactive list
You'll be unlucky in Kentucky when I hang jerks in Frankfort
Puttin' in slang work-leavin' you lames hurt
In Nashville Tennessee you'll find a landfill of dead emcees
Wit smashed grills in a bed of leaves - all who lacked skills & pedigree -
I'ma punish these dumb emcees in Montgomery and provide you with the summary of how I was sonnin these
rap performers - I slam & floor ya - in Atlanta, Georgia
I'm a damn enforcer
In Tallahassee - my style'll smash the - wack crews - just bow and pass me - my bars are foul & nasty
Punish ya - I'm stunnin' ya - sonnin' ya - in Columbia
Straight runnin' ya - gunnin' ya - crushin' ya - I ain't lovin' ya Murk a wack rapper in Raleigh committin' a folly
Toss him off of a trolley - then give a shout out to Ox - the one wit' an Ollie
In Charleston, West Virginia - I'm like a shark fin - threat to swimmers - roast emcees - eat the charred skin - flesh for dinner
Commit sick sins in Richmond - rip limbs when I spit hymns
Make shit grim - your click's thin - bring pain like stick pins and kicked shins
I do the damn thing in Lansing, Michigan - murder every rap citizen who can't swing - wile out like ADHD kids wit' no Riddilin
Douglas James - James Douglas - I run this in Columbus
Eat up these rappers wit a side of Hummus - Supreme like a Cutlass
I'm scarin' herbs and squares & nerds in Harrisburg
My mental drains ya in Pennsylvania when I'm blarin' words
In Annapolis this master spits - ravenous - stacks of scripts smashin' clicks - like Cain Velasquez droppin' hammer fists
It'll be game over in Dover, Delaware - bring hell up there
And I'm well aware - these rappers will be hella scared


In Trenton, NJ - I'm an effin' sensai - you reppin' - let's play - it'll be wack rappers death day
In Albany - I maul mc's - who violate Hip Hop's policies
I ain't playin' games - straight up I'm callin' these
Rappers out in Hartford, Connecticut
Spark words - no etiquette - spit harsh verbs and rhetoric
Total dominance in Providence - these rappers lack confidence
That's why they could never be on top like condiments
Comp is wack and useless in Boston, Massachusetts
I stomp and slap 'em toothless to the break of dawn I'm rappin' ruthless
A monster in Concord - I don't care if you're at a concert or got sponsors or you're a fake gangsta rapper claimin' you eat steak & lobster
Stomp silly squares in Montpelier - got em all really scared
CIPHURPHACE Y'ALL - I smoke em like a Philly there
Crush ya lames in Augusta, Maine - bring you suckas pain
Cause I got Rhymes like the word after Busta's name
Hit Honolulu Hawaii - I'm gone & cuckoo-dont try me
As a sport eat rappers like Kalua Pork - so you no stand by me
Cold-hearted in Juneau, Alaska - I attack like Cujo and thrash ya - lyrical judo - I slash ya - with a new flow - I smash ya
When I flipt the script and punish ya
Heads'll scream CIPHURPHACE for president in the District of Columbia
Track Name: Jake Palumbo, Ed Ward & C-Zar Van Gogh - I Wanna Live
(Verse 1 - Jake Palumbo)

I wanna live, to be an astronaut
Graduated Space Camp with straight-A's in crafting rocks
Got it from my pops, he was an engineer at Magnavox
Now I engineer the sounds found in small-town parking lots
That's why I laugh in your face, you say my album flop?
I've basically made it, but I'm basically jaded
To all the ways they try to play you like an inmate, I hate it
I stay clinching my fists, till I got white knucks
My Dad's dead, my Mama starving, homie - life sucks
My friends trapped in the Trap, cause selling white sucks
Been White all my life, I never seen these "White bucks"
I sold weed for one year, I sold coke for one week
Youngn's trading in their scholarship for two bags of leak
My uncle facing Fed time, wanna help but ain't able to
He's 55, and mentally handicapable
You think that you're producers with Fruity Loops & Ableton
Never pressed up a record, whatcha bringing to the table then?
You're 22, no clue what grinding years is
I will beat the definition of what blood, sweat, and tears is, bitch


I Wanna Live
I Wanna Live My Life
I Wanna Live
I Wanna Live My Life

(Verse 2 - Ed Ward)

All eyes on me, 2Pac show
Oops I meant to say Truman Show
It's privacy when the lights is low
Gotta look good for the life we chose
I wanna live now & die next week
Can't die now cause my life's too cheap
Overnight star, might take that leap
Fame staircase, and it look too steep
In too deep, & I might just drown
The skyline's & I can't look down
Made my bed, & I can't die now
Don't take shit so I don't lie down
I wanna shine like a star would do
Spit me a bar, get a car or two
My credit score is too horrible
I love this rap shit, sorry boo
Wanna live life inside the stu
Sorry, there's not time for you
I do this here, don't kinda-do
No lies here, I'm all kinds of truth
Name in lights, till the lights are blue
See the spotlight has a chosen few
Be the man, be like the man
Learn the game to beat the scam
Success will make a lonely man
Money can't control you, fam
I just wanted us to smoke
Smoke so good my lungs will choke
Live right now, all she wrote
Sober up, and I need to float
Chop me down, screw the hope
Can't stop now, I'm way too close


(Verse 3 - C-Zar Van Gogh)

Whatcha gonna do when the cops come & they pop some
You're the wrong one, it's not fun
Hit you in the leg, hit you in the chest
That's where the blood won't stop coming out from
You cannot run, you cannot hide
You ain't got wings, you cannot fly
Laying there, not dry & you cock-eyed
Shots fired, justified in the cops eyes
But what if you died knowing that you fully lived your life out
If not, what your life bout?
Like right now I ain't iced out
But I'm shining on em
Tombstone gonna say every single day that the good Lord sent
I was grinding on 'em
Pole position baby girl, just climb up on it
Special Ed, with a "C" in front
Y'all n****s gotta Honor Roll me
Life's a bitch but my alimony
Her sister's death, is hella on me
But I f****d 'em both, butt to throat
Pillow talking, cigarillo sparking
But I'm up to no good, Remy Martin
In my friend's apartment with a big revolver
And I'm loaded
I'm livid
I'm loathing
I'm living
I'm soaking in my sins, I'm just hoping he forgives me
I sold weed to smoke cheeba
Sold white for good reasons
Fuck Lowry's, Fuck Goya
This right here some good seasoning

Track Name: SpaceLAB Recordings featuring Jak D - Choose Your Style II: Butterfly Knife
(Verse 1 - C-Zar Van Gogh)

I'm in the LAB - no coat on
I'm getting high off the dro - no Codone
I'm a Big Tymer - get your roll on
I'm so on
Juvenile four double-ozone
N***a what you want on your Cold Stone?
Hood slang, they can't decode us
Feds want me in the cell like a protozoa
But my nucleus is super thick
Emcee with a hammer, and I'm too legit
Can't touch me either, Super C-Zar

(Verse 2 - Jake Palumbo)

Integrity's what the label is based on
Basically, you'll never keep pace with The Spaced God
So I won't stop the flow
Till I die on the throne, like the King of Rock N' Roll
Politically correct, multi-cultural crew
That pack automatic, multi-functional tools
You won't survive in a world that is brutally cruel
You say hold it down for SpaceLAB?
I usually do....

(Verse 3 - Ed Ward)

I'm raising winners up, word to Martin Sheen
Jesus Shuttlesworth, when I'm on the green
Tarantino tracks, if we talking scenes
We X-men, bitch - do it by any means
Special O.P.S. masked up, we be all creeping
Running through that city, while you all sleeping
SpaceLAB Round table yeah we all eating
Blunts, papers and Svedka - a board meeting

(Verse 4 - Ciphurphace)

Immaculate rhythms and thunderous drum patterns
We mastered this spittin' and we do it til the sun shatters
This art form is sacred like temples where Buddha monks gather
Better buckle up or get crumpled up like gum wrappers
Dumb rappers get no respect - we crush rappers wit no regrets
We about to fire shots like gun clappers that's holdin ' Tecs
My crew worthy-earn stripes-we too dirty burn mics
You're Route 3 - my flow's 95 like the New Jersey Turnpike

(Verse 5 - Mike N.O.T.E.S)

My style's unknown, like 2013 A.D.
Always catch me with a fly bitch, Zang Zee E
The good die young, but the best die free
I'm alive for the now, getting SpaceLAB cream
Nah mean?
You need your team to encourage you
My bar's gat magic, Big Pun turkolou
You can be a trendsetter, visionary
And you'll still come up short like leap years, February

(CHORUS - All)

We going head-to-head, yo choose your style
In hand-to-hand combat, you lose your crown
Soon as the music hits, who's moving the crowd?
Our style's too confusing, we losing 'em now

(Verse 6 - Ollie OX)

I'm running these streets like a crook with a purse
With a hook & a verse, I put the woofer to work
Ollie OX the monster, known to sport a human mask
Rolling through the Cosmos, cruising through the moon & back
With my bus pass, and a ruck sack
And one false tooth cause my sawed-off bucked back
Went from ashes to full-fledged flame
And I still keep breaking every rule in the game

(Verse 7 - Mo Kofuma)

...I don't even know where to start at
My Gotham Heights mobb deep, where ya heart at? I'm dropping a poem
Real high, uh rocking a philosopher's stone, so
On the beat I strangle
Mets cap titled at a 45-degree angle
Iso-motion, always in control
Basketball bud, I always pick and roll

(Verse 8 - Jak D)

Butterfly effect, Jak To The Future
Butterfly knife, Jake you a bad-ass producer
Plus you got a buncha fly effects on your Mac computer
Jak maneuver through the Trap, click-clack go the Ruger
Rude-ass bastard on point like a tack-tip
My tactics are crueler, classic MacGruber
Best Rapper Denied
Put a patch over my eye, and call me Fat Dick The Ruler