The Giraffter Party Acapellas & Instrumentals

by Notebook Noise

  • Streaming + Download




I know you've been to a party before, but never a Giraffter Party. This album is made up of the Strange Tongue acapellas and instrumentals.

If you would like to be considered for the Giraffter Hours Remix album please email your submissions to ItsMeNotebook (@)
no later than March 31st 2013. Please don't post it online if you're submitting.

If you would like to use a particular track for some other project, please rap and remix amongst yourselves. Please give us credit and link back to us properly. ie ("Bob Ross Is Dead Acapella taken from Notebook Noise, Strange Tongue 2012")


released August 12, 2012

Thaddeus James: Executive Producer

Johnny Cosmic: Producer

Asa Phelps: Beat Production on tracks 12,1 4,1 6, 19 & 21.

Lyrics written by Jeff Mroz aka Thaddeus James

Superchillin' lyrics written by J. Mroz & Johnny Cosmic

Most Of My Nights (Headphone Wood) lyrics written by J. Mroz and Ginger Peach

All instruments were played by Johnny Cosmic:
Guitar/synth/whistles/percussion/loop pedal/etc
Strange Tongue was recorded, mixed and mastered by John Gray at Melody Sunrise Studios
Strange Tongue artwork was created by Joe Sampson!/cre8ivejoe

Mother Brain logo created by Keith Evans

Melody Sunrise cat created by Cherice Campbell




Notebook Noise Chicago

Notebook Noise is proud to present #PhenomenalCake & Giraffter Hours. All albums are FREE to download.

Full bio available at FB or Soundcloud link. For a daily dose of NN follow on Twitter.

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Track Name: Bob Ross Is Dead Acapella 94 bpm 62 bars
It’s something I can’t get away from. It’s a pulse. It’s a mechanism.
It’s a list of words and challenges. It’s a specific rhythm. It’s how some people love your art and never about those that don’t.

Blood sweat and tears, green bud, sex and beers
Fighting brotherly to fighting other peers
Noise settles nicely into each and every nook
Whether its’ the neat and clean or fit for a crook
Or even crook catcher with crotch piece and cape
Only Bob Ross could out stroke the landscape
Now where are those happy little trees?
My stellar raw rhyme, van dyke brown emcees
I’m shitting on ‘em, Did you see what I did there?
Open up and let underneath your lid peer
Buck mow (mau-), bug ‘em out like a cartoon
Like the first time music made your longing heart swoon
So choosy about your sound you think it’s so choice
Swear if you could get it out the whole scene’ll rejoice
But nah, you’re lame and sound like a drone
So indistinct you should prolly leave the mic alone
Chorus: Beautiful brush strokes, I’ll kill you
You aint shit, look at your production
And all the empty rows you should’ve had ducks in
You Teddy Rukspin, you could never pull a care bear
I’m taller in pictures and have a debonair stare
Install these scriptures, at times have a rare square
No joking or smoking, unless you had some spare gear Cos I don’t want you in on my daily ration
The way you carrying on in such fashion
Hype is hype, and then there’s looking like an ass
If you care to gripe, I’m at a level you can’t surpass
Notebook is special care, words get more attention
You’s a tool, I thought you’d try and throw a wrench in Ahoy matey, but only pirates drive my nuts
See what I did there, the wit never falls in ruts
Know no gorges, could stop a flow so gorgeous
Noise is no mess, with rhymes so enormous
Track Name: Most Of My Nights (Headphone Wood) Acapella 90 bpm 82 bars
My self-esteem is healthy, I’m my own best hater
If a stripper had a kid, I would probably still date her
I’m kinda like a stripper too, only I’m a emcee
Tattoo’s and a kid, bank account empty
I’m staying with (Mafatha), but I got my own car
Wouldn’t blame ya none, if you don’t think I’m goin’ far
I second guess myself, I was taught to think twice
And now it’s got me looking like I’m the wrong price
Cash only, you won’t offer house credit
If you’re between the lines? Then yeah I read it.
A sudden smirk and her bottom lip is bitten
I’m looking at her like I’m strip club smitten
Similar interest is just what this night needs
Eyes beaming, trying to make the right reads
Forget your fetish, I’m a friggin human being
Look at me like someone you could see yourself seeing

Most of my nights end alone and in headphones 3x
And maybe one night they’ll end alone in you.

I told everyone at the table whilst drinking at Jersey’s
What was all minsie’s and what was all hersie’s
@nmyrent and @ptothed22
Cos they was both tweeting it too
I’m a 7 and I think I’m okay with that rating
I think it says more about the girl I’m dating
Unless she’s a 7 too then everything is fine
He hopes she smokes pot, she hopes he drinks wine
More similar than similar intrest
There goes the angles and there go the inference
Back to single and everything that that entails
Take down the picture frames, but leave in the nails
Switch out the photos get the sheets from the dryer
Don’t answer, and let the text thread expire
Go drink with the guys cheers here’s to honor
If you can’t…

This falls under the #badbitch
Worked real hard that thing need a sandwich
Thanks for texting me, laying next to me
I really like our life expectancy
Let me see you bite your bottom lip
Let me feel you tighten up that grip
I wanna sit you down and I wanna record you
I wanna play you back and I wanna adore you

Thaddeus James: Lyrics
Ginger Peach: Lyrics
Track Name: Bloodshot Embers Acapella 85 bpm 60 bars
I never really cared that she dated other dudes
So how she gonna bitch that I’m picky with my foods
I left her alone on all her imperfections
But still she came back with her interjections
Uh you’re so short, don’t you ever eat
Did you get a job? What’s that on your feet?
Are those fat laces? Did those come with the shoes?
What were you thinking, when you got those tattoos?

Bloodshot embers weakening to ashes
Often I sat there, lost in those lashes

I’m not too concerned with your thoughts on my physique
Or if my clothes make me the wrong kind of unique
You forgot to bitch about these songs I make
So confused between the real and fake
You know why I can’t work thanks for the low blow
It doesn’t take a Gza to see this wont grow
Lets let the last of these ashes float into the air
And you can close your eyes and watch me disappear
Track Name: Tap The Grinder Acapella 91.2 bpm 78 bars
Tap the grinder, tap the grinder real well,
Some you know, but some you can never tell.
3 keep a secret, as long as 2 are dead
I keep a beat wet straight from the head.
Yo Johnny T, yo you think that you and me,
Can break this off with the guy Asa P.
Helps, helps if you know something,
And if pitching in helps if you can throw something’
Little bit here little bit there, yo diversify,
Tap the grinder, see if you could verse less high.
Empty tempting left less to crave,
Forced appetite to acquire more brave.
Done With Gears, metaphor: spinning wheels
Barely tracking what was once close heels.
Lost somewhere along the way somehow
I got no more excuses, I just got right now.

Tap the grinder, tap the grinder all night
Bless your soul, thinking you’re at new height
Fly away and call it inner sanctuary
But with the come down come the inner worry
Come what may sound a bit cliché
But if you’re too crutched out, shit there goes your day
Dreams, dreamt up for you to hold something
And if you water seeds maybe you can mold something
Little bit here little bit there, yo diversify
Tap the grinder, see if you could verse less high.
Bursting worsening left more to save,
Forced insight to inspire less grave
Meatier mediums require more taters
Must be doing something right, inspired more haters
Found somewhere between was, and what will be
Trying to get more y’all, so y’all can get more me
Track Name: Newcy Browns Acapella 100 bpm 52 bars
I feel like some Newcy Browns let’s do this
My name is Noise yo, but you knew this
Stay legit son, loose the numb noodle
You’re missing so much, with rhymes that brutal
You killed it son, the tracks no longer beating
You got style like Z Cavarrichi pleating
What you gonna show us next the damn tight roll
Thinking you’re at the bar, you’re freight low
You’re a boldface hater, and a hip hop dissenter
In Hip Hop’s framed house, you wouldn’t be a splinter
Or even dust on a fad gone bad
Thinking you fly-guy, yous the wrong kind of rad
It’s Notebook son, raw nerd-word murderer
So mentally challenged you couldn’t blur the drrrrrr.
I’m with Lloyd and Harry and Charlie Babbitt
Playing keep away from Lenny with a dead rabbit
No, No, No No he’s not retarded (sample from 16 Candles)
I am unequivocally high,
In other words I dream right through the sky
Cloud 9? Nah. I’m on 909
That’s 900 more than your average divine
Underground flow outer space brain
Capital letters seeking capital gain
Transformation, rehabilitation
Bigger appetite and stronger legs chasing
I am unequivocally driven
I’ll still thrive, after I’m done living
Go ahead ask a clairvoyant
Magical medium, spirit download torrent
Save as, extract all files
Open with, adapt all styles
I love haters, I hate biters
I eat sharks, and train good fighters
Track Name: The Good Fight Acapella 96 bpm
I think it’s incredible with rhymes so forgettable
That some of these emcees think their so sweatable
Nobodies sweating you guy, that’s just swass
Your rhymes ain’t fly dude, that’s just grass
So puff puff pass that mic right out ya hands
And just being a fan should be your new plans
Cos all your rhymes is sub par for underground
And you’re not fresh, rapping over any sound
You ain’t profound, you ain’t putting in work
I had to hide you on fb, you post like a jerk
On and on and on, etc, et al.
I would pound this one with #epicfail

The good fight is not always the right one
And your fire don’t compare to this bright sun

Suckers lining up like it’s a damn talent show
Hoping they spit that new, that everybody know
And I guess if notebook knows anything at all
It’s how to look good falling so short of tall
I’m not flashy, nor concerned with stature
But when you holding that mic you aint looking that sure
And if that’s pure you’re surely looking shook
You got the ingredients but don’t know how to cook
You got the hunger, but you got shit for a palette
You’d prolly eat the twinkie and skip the scallop
If Notebook’s in the kitchen you’ll eat what I make you
And if we start to trip out, you’ll go where I take you

Can’t get your weight up, can’t get your weight right
This is just the pre-party, you’re thinking this is late night
You don’t want none of this Notebook rhyme management
I’m so sick, you can’t mentally challenge shit
I’ll crush physical forms and philosophical fodder
You look high and low, but wont find none odder
Debonair dope boy, raw rhyme renegade
Fronting like I’m too fresh, looking like I’m hella played
I’m rhyming hot soup, call me lentil grade
I’m rhyming so cool, call me mental shade
Notebook’s the name, an evil rhyming sort
Word murderer, killing rhymes for sport
Track Name: The Bookery Acapella 72 bpm 60 bars
Smooth criminal a real beat breaker
Coppers never heard of a higher stake taker
Lab ART subliminal Banksy shout
Lab smart minimal lengths see drought
You rhyme like an assistant droppin’ beekers
And front like your in a lab building heat-seekers
You’re like a mento’s soda pop fountain
Telling us, you drop science inside a mountain
That’s cool guy keep it futuristic
Or old school, Do you happen to have this dick
You got Christ on your chest, that’s nice
Do you think he’d approve of being that ice
Noise knows and he’s got the right solution
Highly regarded for his strong constitution
And for all the choice cuts strung in the hookery
His coined catalog is called “The Bookery”
This goes out to all the displace originals, This goes out to all their in place fakers, this goes out to all the big wall builders and this goes out to all the barrier breakers
Thumb through gumshoe try and find clues
Skim over rover or park it and peruse
Noise rhymes read as well as they sound
And they cuddle up like feel, felt, found
Raw yall, Roald Dahl, L. Rawls and aerosol
Thought he was Cobra Kai, he’s more like Care Bear claw
Couldn’t carve out curves nor cluck out caws
Thought he was fresh trying to get his yes yawls
Pshaw he couldn’t get a beet at a Schrute farm
Called em darts but dude couldn’t shoot harm
Sorry dude, when music’s on I really listen
And I could quickly quip about everything missing
New school Notebook, gnarly example
The bookery bang big, fly through trample
Raw rhyme regular, never unravel
Mother Brain mothership, space sound travel
Track Name: Superchillin' Acapella 78 bpm 79 bars
Running all sideways, all through the kitchen
She didn’t expect to be acting all drunk kitten
Glassy eyed, mouthing nom nom nom
Trying to nuzzle right up under my arm
I hollered at the show, she liked that I could read
It’s all Mary J., it’s all that I need
We melted at the gate with a kiss on the lips
I followed up the stairs, pov on those hips
She gave me a juice box, and a permanent smile
I said if you’ll have me, I could be back in awhile
We did well at the show, we were both still funny
And had another 8 days of feeling so money
Brand new artwork, another pretty mermaid
Little lion girl, with her aquatic brigade
Tattoos, Polaroid’s, and a shit ton of tap water
Bowls of Fruity Pebbles, chilling with my daughter

All I wanna do...Is superchillin with you.

Yeah girl, I really like you
If you didn’t have a seat, I would still bike you
Come here girl, you’ve got something on your face
Pavlov would be proud of our pace
Hella reinforcements, all in the positive
My tuft loves the scratch your fingers give
A whole calendar worth of Friday notes
A whole notebook full of and funny quotes
Brownies from Walgreens, Wendy’s Drive Thru
Even the Wendy’s lobby, we’re known to dine too
Snacks to the face, and art on the wall
I’m so glad to be part of it all
We’re in the kitchen, cooking or baking
We’re all love and it’s here for the taking
It’s pretty obvious, you know all I wanna do
Is build this life and spend it all with you

After I say good night, I say I can’t wait to see you in the morning. I love you.
Track Name: Swagger Jackers Acapella 93 bpm 72 bars
Whiskey flavored nipples and diamonds in the grass
The Mermaid get what she want, with that ass
No hands she wants to jerk it all night
O. Thaddeus goes slow she can’t hold tight
She rides him all day into the horizon
The feeling felt right, exciting and surprising
He had a black eye, shape of a heart
He was looking for love, could see it in the art
Green Mead notebook, 90 sheet wide ruled
One subject, depending how the odds pooled
What’s in favor, and what’s the genre
The Swagger Jackers get a brand new mantra
Love it or leave it, the haters are gonna hate
He hollered on the street, kissed her at the gate
She took him to the sea, he brought her on land
She rode him so hard, O couldn’t even stand

Ginger was not a siren, more of a femme fatal
O. was a giraffe on the brink of feeling magical
He wasn’t hocus pocus, seemed more spiritual
She couldn’t talk with hands, so all her words were lyrical
When they didn’t speak they just kissed conversations
It was becoming harder to define their separations
Were they in the water or a coffee covered canvas
The eyes of mere mortals couldn’t seem to handle this
One paper tiger, in a sea of charged dandelions
Started to morph into two drunk kittens crying
Eating Fruity Pebbles out of bowls full of liquor
They shared the kind of fetishes that made most sicker
I’m gonna eat your face, throw it up and show ya
And then she licks it up again and he says slower
A couple of 7’s, in love like they’re 10’s
Getting wet for markers and getting hard for pens
Track Name: Cookies ft. LULUTRON Acapella 125 bpm 143 bars
Nothing quite as lovely as cookie dough batter
In a large bowl, dry ingredient adder
Eggs and butter at room temperature
Into the butter, sugar, brown sugar stir
Mix until creamy, then mix in the vanilla
I don’t use a mixer so it’s a wrist killer
So I always mix the dry real slow
In about ten minutes the ovens good to go
Preheat that thing up to 375
Stir in the chips, we’ll be all the way live
Load that spoon, get the first taste
Make sure the ingredients are in their place
Out the oven to the cooling rack
Fill it up, before we start to stack
Soft and chewy these cookies are freezer bound
Eat a couple more before the Tupperware sound

I want some chocolate chip cookies
You want some chocolate chip cookies
Raw dough I got dips on a beater
Recipe for legacy could not be sweeter

I never used a mixer but now I do
Now a batch can easily be two
We can bake half and save half for later
Spoonfuls of batter stole from refrigerator
C is for cookie, dunk them in your coffee
I get ‘em from the freezer and they chew softly
Fold them in half for a cold milk dunk
My daughter Dee used to call milk lunk
So little lunky Dee likes to bake with me
Maybe one day we’ll have a bakery
And everyone who comes in gets a free cakepop
On the house of course, we’re glad you made the stop
So how many cookies? How many cupcakes?
Don’t be gluttonous we don’t want tummy aches
But if you want one, give this here a try
It’s a raw dough sandwich, we call it cookie dough pie
Track Name: Strange Tongue Acapella 95 bpm 81 bars
Life is precious and life is fleeting
I want a story that’s worth rereading
Highlighted with dog-eared pages
With the advice to advance life stages
Hi I’m Notebook, I really like duskets
And I got a whole list of must gets
I got a strange tongue, people say I talk weird
Say they never could, say they’re too scared
Could never rap in front of so many people
And I say, “this really ain’t so many people”
Well I know, but still. Do you know what I mean?
“Sure, public speaking really aint your scene”
It’s not mine either, but I like to story tell and dance
I’ll always run the risk, I like how excites the chance
That maybe we’ll find something we can hold
And when they retell it, it’ll be one of the best ever told

I got a bad wrist it’s been a dark cloud
I got a strange tongue, ya‘ll been a great crowd.
I got a bad wrist it’s hurting right now
I got a strange tongue, I can show you how.

I got a bad wrist, I got a strange tongue
I’ve got a good mind to try and outrun
Any dream, goal or past endeavor
That had me confused that I might be cleaver
I never settle, my sediments are restless
Double edged sentiments are your best guess
I always mean much more than I’m saying
I’d rather haiku than ever start praying
From 17 syllables to 16 bars
I plot words like I’m mapping out stars
I don’t need to tell yous folk to get telescopes
To illuminate and embellish hopes
Ya’ll know how to dream and set your placemats
I’ll displace cats who aren’t ready to face facts
Got no time to catch fire, and no intention to coddle
My throw away rhymes are better than what you model.