Elegant Tux

by TASK AND MONIKER

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about

Elegant Tux focuses on classy boom bap, audacious punchlines and deep self reflection all backed by fitting production. The album details someone who tries to find confidence but ultimately has to find themselves in the process. Sounds corny as fuck I know, but trust me, if you like a sound that's unlike anything you've heard before, yet so familiar then Task and Moniker definitely deliver something fresh to the hip hop table.

Task The Samsara provides the gorgeous production and Lost Moniker provides the lyrics and vocals. This is a FREE download. No reason not to have this in your iTunes/Zune/Microsoft Media Player, etc. etc.

credits

released September 5, 2012

BEATS: Task The Samsara
MC: Lost Moniker

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about

Lost Moniker

Lost Moniker is that dude who talks in third person cause all you other mother-fuckers type like that in an attempt to sound professional. However, Moniker (I) would like to tell you that he's a hip hop artist who loves crafting new and unique music. Moniker's music is unlike other artist's you have heard before... His witticisms and lyrical ability are unmatched. That sounds fancy, now go listen! ... more

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Track Name: Elegant Tux
lyrics
You're digging deep while I stand on your crates,
cause I'm boxing boasting til I manny your face,
and I'm talking dopness, but swallowing rappers,
cause you're calling this skilled, well I'm calling it practice,
Ok anyways, I'm standing around,
stepping fresh with my dick dangling out,
and I'll give your girfriend one hell of a fuck,
punch her in the mouth and then tell her she sucks,
cause me and task are the sleekest cats,
rock an elegant tux, and we speak with class,
smoking cigars to these beats and raps,
exhaling flows so I can breath on tracks,
I'm pissed belittling shit spitting that's dull,
You're a punch to a beat, I'm a fist to your skull,
but my whole rap style's pretty tongue and cheek,
the place where your girl has my cum for weeks,
I'll crash in her cunt like a battling drum,
send you the film, and then ask for some funds,
I'm firm business, like we're shaking hands,
The gentleman type, with a shady stance,
what I'm saying man, is that I'm selfish as fuck,
over confident slick in my elegant tux...
Track Name: Sippin' On Thoughts
This is that boom bap, smooth shit for smooth cats,
two dudes, two fat, nice beats and smooth raps,
we're bottling tracks, tossing em back to new jacks,
Then spilling out beats until I'm flawless with raps,
and sloppier cats they can't manage these steps,
of dope beats, ill rhymes til' you're banging your head,
I'm lieing though, cause Task is chill on this beat,
til I'm sipping on thoughts and I'm just spilling out speech,
I remember high school tunes that made my spine chill,
just from dope cats that could flow fat and rhyme ill,
We're trying to make it big, wreck a show that's dope,
but we're not making shit, so our dough stacks slow,
but we'll shoot for the stars until you hand us a gun,
and if you're catching feelings, Task is sampling some,
mixing our thoughts til we combined as classics,
Cause he's the dj... and I'm the rapper
Track Name: Casual Boasting
It's mr. elegant tux on some irrelevant stuff,
and been melting to beats sounding selfish as fuck,
I'll boast a bit, then attack and kill,
cause my rapping skills are morning after pills,
you cats should chill, you're not aborted yet,
only abort the best when I'm rapping ill...

It's like...

emerge on this beat with the sounds of your bitch,
write a rap bout' her going down on my dick,
that's kinda played, but I'm kinda cocky,
a mad scientist, but don't try to stop me,
a lethal fixture from these lethal mixtures,
and sip this potion? you're speaking different,
sound kinda dope, but can't match the source,
but so close, you'll probably ask for more,
I'm sounding clear and been looking fresh,
and been pushing vets out their rocking chairs,
kinda sharp, but you should hand me an axe,
I'm on point now, to start mangling cats,
writing this shit, with a bottle of whisky,
guzzle it down and I'll talk til' it hits me...

slurring my words liquors holding a fist,
pouring out drinks but not going for sips,
raps that's provoking, actual dope shit,
a grimey nerd who likes rhyming words,
combining verbs to make lines that work,
it's like dropping a punch but you bitches are cocky,
cause you're mister miyagi if your swinging is sloppy,
some random shit bout' how I'm actually dope man,
and how I'm the best when I'm casually boasting...
Track Name: Timbs and Cigars
I'm looking fresh as fuck as I step and strut,
In my timbo boots and my deadly tux,
cause I'm dressed to kill with that sex appeal,
to murder that pussy, get dressed and chill,
so I spark a cigar, and then puff it and dip,
and I'm seeing her sister think of fucking this bitch,
the cigars burning I'm ashing it once,
so I look at this bitch and then ask for her cunt,
adjusting my watch cause I hit it in minutes,
kiss her goodbye and she gives me her digits,
throw em' away, I light another cigar,
and then put on my timbs and start strutting them hard,
walk down the street and I'm feeling my best,
this dude asks "how do you deal with success?"
I kinda laugh and he's grinning so hard,
I smile and say: "Timbs and cigars"
Track Name: No Similes (Raw Deal)
This isn't a rap to boast how my tracks are dope,
or how my battle flows beat the wackest jokes,
cats should know I'm not on that battling shit,
I'm more casual slick off that battling tip...

Well...

I guess I kinda lied,
cause these rhyming guys can't rhyme as fly,
I'm a bastard on tracks with baffling raps,
that these casual cats just naturally lack,
combat the sickest you'll be strapped with stitches,
I'll bottle my anger, and smash you with it,
my artisties sick when attacking with words,
right now you're hearing a master at work,
exploding on tracks til' I'm bursting your speakers,
plus any beat I fuck with is the birth of a genius,
off the top? well I'm over my head,
leaving you breathless when I choke you to death,
an underground dude not making a movement,
but if talk is cheap, then you should pay for my music,
that was to people saying: "you're doing it man"
so I'm trying to bank off all two of my fans,
but I guess that I'm too tough to sell,
so I'm doing me til' you're saying: "fuck yourself"

yo... watch this shit.

Toss my song to bitches til' they're loving my sound,
but only thing they're catching is my cum in their mouth's,
I'm kinda slimey for these battling dudes,
but fuck it, I'm just casually crude... right?
I guess my flow's simply -- too dope,
I dropped this with no similes!
Track Name: Glitter Gold/Vibrations
Skilled when he writes but is he ill on the mic,
well they say: "off the dome, I guess he's talking dope"
and he's feeling it's like he's been the best with raps,
but these weaker dudes have always said he's wack,
so let me tell you bout' that moniker cat,
he started at fourteen writing sloppier raps,
and kept writing a verse until he dropped it on tracks,
made his demo tape... no one's calling him back,
a couple of years, beers and mastering flows,
his grades slipping but he's catching a show,
battling dudes til' he shattered their lines,
by taking the pieces til' he crafted a rhyme,
rebuttals were sick but he knew in his had,
that it'd be awhile til' he hit puberty yet,
so he hit his peak, I guess nobody watched,
cause his lyrics were dope but his flowing was off,
nineteen now watching college approach,
but he's calling it quits, now they're calling him dope...

I'm not calling him dope but guy probably can't even freestyle...

I'm better with raps cause I'm ahead of the class,
fuck your pen and your pad you'll get detention for that,
that's disrespect and I'm a cynical peer,
cause I'm sick like *insert simile here,*
a slick talker that's embarrassing threats,
tearing heads off hipsters swearing they vets,
then step to their bitch so I can stare at her breasts,
but if loves blind, I shouldn't stare at her chest... fuck it,
I want a bitch sucking my dick, touching her clit,
bust on her face with cum on her lips,
anyways, I'm kind of a freak,
and hungry as fuck for the grimiest beats,
but these producers are kinda just weak,
pussies smell like fish and I'm trying to eat...
Track Name: Gentleman Hop
I'm waking up lovely to morning sex,
but kick the bitch out cause of morning breath,
and I'm kinda rude, but if you're nearing this man,
I'm emailing bitches Nigerian scams,
It's kinda riveting and I'm kinda gimmicky,
bootlegging Nelly just to spite the industry,
I'm classy rude with those raps that's crude,
smoking cigars until I'm acting smooth,
A classy dude so I put on the stan smiths,
my cardigan sweaty I'm looking so handsome,
hardly forgetting a pack of the jim hats,
comfortable now and the classiest bitch asks:
"moniker, how come you're so nice when you drop?"
I'm not rapping bitch, I'm just reciting my thoughts,
she grabs my dick, so I slap the chick,
then grab her tits and just laugh a bit
it's the slicker dude at the kissing booth,
who's eying your sister for a kiss or two,
I could switch my views, or just rap about dick size,
or grabbing your chick and then slapping her thick thighs,
classy with this right? I'm kinda that dude,
smoking cigars guzzling Heineken brews,
and your girl likes me while you're looking dull,
and she's kinda sweet like her sugar walls,
the wordiest sleek but absurd on a beat,
it's hip hop for snakes, I'm a serpent with speech,
Dashing with quality, a dash of misogyny,
drips off my tongue into a magical harmony,
you're sipping it up while I look like the best great,
rapper who's broke, that's why I'm leaking my sex tape,
make a couple a mill as that shady dude,
rocking his stans eating a baby ruth,
but I lied cause I'm pretentious with thoughts,
this isn't rap for snakes, more like gentleman hop,
Track Name: Have To Leave
met her at the mall, I was shopping for condoms,
but saw this chick, and started talking some nonsense,
Loving her tits, I said I'm stuck on your smile,
and she's loving that shit because she's stuck on my style,
we laughed a bit when I was saying some slick shit,
I made her feel different, she gave me her digits,
saw her the next night, I'm looking for sex right?
looking so sexy, that I'm pushing for sex like,
let's chill at my place, I got wine and booze,
I'm kinda smooth so she finds it's cool,
we head to my place, but she's acting resistant,
and acting so distant, I probably won't fuck her,

probably won't even fuck her...

I'm talking freely, we arrive at my house,
She's kinda weird, I try to vibe with her now,
I make her laugh and she starts showing her heart,
and I'm showing her mine, when I show her my art,
Have a couple of drinks, and she's loosing up,
I want to loosen her box, move In for the fuck,
I try to kiss her, but she laughs at me,
and udders out: "well... I have to leave"
Track Name: Speak Softly
She sweated her lust until I sipped that potion,
cause I'm tasting her cold heart of mixed emotions,
and I miss those moments, she was holding me up,
but when she drifted away I was closer to love,

Stuck on her smile til' I'm lost in her eyes,
with these looks that killed until my confidence died,
Choking on lust and now I'm tasting the poison,
couldn't see rejection, now I'm facing her boyfriend,

I want to give her gifts and kisses, have dinner dates,
she said I'm nice, I think she wants my brittle frame,
to love her, that's what I told her today,
and now I'm lonely hanging holding mistakes,
having second thoughts, but I forgot what it is,
between that sexy smile and the top of her tits,
cause I'm fallen stuck , f*** it just call it lust,
Because she always hates me, when I call her love,
and now, she has my heart tangled in knots,
around my throat, until she's strangling thoughts,
She hangs in my mind, beside this anchor on time,
that holds me in place feeling angry and blind,
cause she lead me on, but she's the love of my life,
or could be, if she lets me love her tonight,
I'm lost, those thoughts they just break me apart,
Toyed with emotions when she plays with my heart,
cause there's no advance and no holding hands,
just a lonely obsession from a lonely man,
wishing she could see me as more than a friend,
cause all I'm seeing is a loser she's ignoring again,
Track Name: Midnight Cigar
I'm digging deep, task is sampling crates,
we're dropping dope hits, to stand with the greats,
and I'm talking bullshit, been stalling with practice,
A forward thinker who's calling this backwards,
And really it's crude to be standing on ground,
that was paved by rappers not standing your sound,
made comical music, being selfish as fuck,
cause I thought it was funny, called it Elegant Tux,
and weaker cats trying to speak some raps,
people say it's dope, but I see it's wack,
that's elegant tux, trying to speak with class,
but remain dope every time you breath a rap,
Stuck on those thoughts, but it seems I'm back,
to a midnight bench where I seem relaxed,
there's lust in the breeze, I'm loving the summer,
a cigar in my pocket, twenty bucks in the other,
and I'm feeling I'm rich, well, because of the first,
but remember the second like nothing is worse,
started writing these lyrics hoping for green,
but feeling like that, when I orbit the scene,
cause this rapping shit looking sorta just hopeless,
been paying my dues but can't afford to promote it,
so I'm off of my axis til' my confidence backwards,
but grab my cigar, thoughts calmed and relaxing,
lighting it up until the smoke's in my face,
inhaling my stresses just to blow 'em away,
that breeze hits me, harder than loves lost,
find a piece of that feeling in summers I lust off,
so I puff my cigar, think of calling this chick,
cause I called her my girl, now I'm calling it quits,
forgetting her face as it's lost in the smoke,
and I'm puffing again so I can talk to my hopes...