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Tales From Mongolian BBQ

by Cougar Magnum

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Zachary Revel
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1.
Where's the Tylenol? 02:21
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I'm 21 years old and I'm past my prime If the glass is half full, hope it’s a glass of wine I pass the time by passing gas in line And I like girls in jeans, the elastic kind Big fat bottom, muffin top goddess One piece at the beach, oh girl you're so modest Baby girl you gotta flaunt it if you got it Took her sky diving people thought she was a comet Had to break it off but not because I’m shallow I told her I was sick of always living in her shadow I know, I’m an asshole, A burnt down school like "Hey where’d the class go?" Speaking of which, I’m getting whiskey dick So let's go get wet and wild like some frisky fish I'm indifferent to the change Undoubtedly lifted and gifted in the brain I got a text from my ex the bitch said she miss me Then my ass made a crack about how she should kiss me Asshole I control all the dissing If you wanna be a dick don't shit start pissing Shootin the shit cuz this girl has killer tits Think this honey thinks I’m funny like Mac Millers lisp But really it is pretty funny Like these sluts at the bar who think they're getting drinks from me Listen sweetheart, I know it's your birthday Just sit there and pretend like you understand the word play Bird brain's skirt's raised I'm saying shit that pervs say I pissed on your truck cuz your Ed Hardy shirt's gay Horoscopes help whores cope with the fact they get tapped more times than a morse code Pathologically illogical Hallelujah, holy shit, where’s the Tylenol? Cue Chevy Chase monologue: I want to look him straight in the eye, and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where's the Tylenol?
2.
Sactown Summer 03:30
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It's wet, it's hot, it's a Sac-Town summer. lyrics (Verse 1) It’s summer time in the city of trees, So put that turtle neck away and let them titties be free girrrrl. Shit it’s triple digits in the valley, We congregate at waters with daughters of Northern Cali. Local folk seek refuge at the river, With zig-zags and bitch slaps directly to their livers. Saints and sinners, all breakin sweats, But only the drunkards are out here breakin bread. Let’s get wrecked at a River Cats game, Dollar beers make us heckle right fields last name. (You SUCK!) And if we last all nine, It’s cuz we passed out on the grass for a farmer’s tan line. Bob Marley at the BBQ, We dread the party’s end like Marley’s doo. That’s only partly true, cuz it’s hardly June, And the sub 21’s are having parties too. (Chorus) When the sun gets brighter, the people get dumber. White dudes, no sunblock, bummer. But Mother Nature’s lookin hot so I love her, Yeahhh, another Sac-Town summer! Another Sac-Town summer! (x2) But Mother Nature is my lover, Another Sac-Town summer. (Bridge) It’s almost summer stick a finger down your neck. Go to the water but don’t get that hair wet. (x2) (Verse 2) Girls sippa Corona as I get a bona, And admire the glow of stage one melanoma. Now we at Shady Oaks, flickin discs with shady folks, Wet from ‘D Creek’ call me Katy Holmes. No shirt, no shoes, no shits. Popo sniffs but we blow .06, oh shit! No bros wit a boat don’t trip, Cuz we loaded up the fridge with at least fo’ fifths. The ocean’s cool but the lake is church, Bake the purps, stay alert cuz rangers lurk, Then lace the verse with punchlines that make us jerks, But rays that burn radiate for nature first. (Chorus x2) credits released 01 July 2013 Produced by Sticky Bandit and Rob-Dawg-the-Reaper Mixed and Mastered by The Reaper Lyrics by Nick the 6'4 Satyr
3.
HHHC 02:35
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It's wet, it's hot, it's a Sac-Town summer. lyrics (Verse 1) It’s summer time in the city of trees, So put that turtle neck away and let them titties be free girrrrl. Shit it’s triple digits in the valley, We congregate at waters with daughters of Northern Cali. Local folk seek refuge at the river, With zig-zags and bitch slaps directly to their livers. Saints and sinners, all breakin sweats, But only the drunkards are out here breakin bread. Let’s get wrecked at a River Cats game, Dollar beers make us heckle right fields last name. (You SUCK!) And if we last all nine, It’s cuz we passed out on the grass for a farmer’s tan line. Bob Marley at the BBQ, We dread the party’s end like Marley’s doo. That’s only partly true, cuz it’s hardly June, And the sub 21’s are having parties too. (Chorus) When the sun gets brighter, the people get dumber. White dudes, no sunblock, bummer. But Mother Nature’s lookin hot so I love her, Yeahhh, another Sac-Town summer! Another Sac-Town summer! (x2) But Mother Nature is my lover, Another Sac-Town summer. (Bridge) It’s almost summer stick a finger down your neck. Go to the water but don’t get that hair wet. (x2) (Verse 2) Girls sippa Corona as I get a bona, And admire the glow of stage one melanoma. Now we at Shady Oaks, flickin discs with shady folks, Wet from ‘D Creek’ call me Katy Holmes. No shirt, no shoes, no shits. Popo sniffs but we blow .06, oh shit! No bros wit a boat don’t trip, Cuz we loaded up the fridge with at least fo’ fifths. The ocean’s cool but the lake is church, Bake the purps, stay alert cuz rangers lurk, Then lace the verse with punchlines that make us jerks, But rays that burn radiate for nature first. (Chorus x2
4.
These are the Nights 04:12
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5.
Parentz Hot Tub 03:01
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Every fast food connoisseur's dream comes true in this classic American tale about love, lust, and greasy food. lyrics I’ll take a number 3 plain with just cheese please I’m watchin what I eat so make the nuggets a 3 piece I release the break and coast to the window Decrease the speaks cuz I’m creepin with that indo My ends low so I’ll be diggin for some quarters I turn to pay the face that was patient with my order She is gorgeous, gotta full sleeve and a nose ring Aroma of grease mixed with roses and O-rings Oh please God let this woman be single My match account was banned so I’m lookin to mingle Hi Amy I like your “open late swag” “How you know my name?” Girl I read your name tag Now she’s blushin and the guy behind me’s cussin Here’s my number on a napkin, take it sleazy then I punched it And if she ever calls up I’ll invite her to some bubbles in my parent’s hot tub Roll up my parent’s have a hot tub Here’s my number hit me up when you’re off hun You’re out of cigarettes GIRL I got some Now watch me one pump blast like a shotgun She hit me up sure enough so I hit her with my address Double pits to chestie hit the scope for my bad breath Mattress cleaned with febreze smellin mad fresh Blast Gladys tunes to get the right mood established Knock knock on my door so I let her in Smooth talk locked but I’m shakin like a veteran It’s irreverent but there’s never a better sin Than lusting over clever chicks who meet all of your preferences She wants some champagne but I got apple juice Mix it with some key stone *sip* yup, that’ll do Philosophical talks fueled by toxins Existential thoughts exchanged like the stock is We lock eyes there are no words necessary Things are getting hotter in this wet, square nest we’re sharing Our hands are getting lost under the surface 30 seconds later I say thank you for the service (Chorus) Watch me one pump blast like a shotgun (x2) credits
6.
Road to Nowhere 03:24
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7.
Jeremy Lin 02:55
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8.
Outro 01:11
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about

We titled this EP Tales from Mongolian BBQ for a couple reasons: First, because we all have a passion for Mongolian BBQ. Back in our hometown of Sacramento, Steven and I used to regularly hit up all the mongo’s in the area. We would literally spend hours there, filling up our bowls and talking about whatever’s going on in our lives (usually some trivial suburban white people shit). Before Robbie joined Cougar Magnum, we needed to know he valued Mongolian BBQ at least half as much as we did—luckily, the kid has good taste.

Secondly, because this is our first project together, this EP contains a variety of styles and flavors, much like a delicious bowl of Mongo. That is why we divided it up into four different sections: Beef (Where’s the Tylenol, Sactown Summer), Veggies (HHHC, These are the Nights), Noodles (Parentz Hot Tub, Road to Nowhere), and Sauce (Jeremy Lin, Outro). Having a cohesive album with a signature sound is important, but I also believe that people should be able to make whatever the hell they want without worrying about restricting themselves to a single style or sound. We love all kinds of hip-hop, so we make all different kinds of hip-hop, and although that might not be conducive to success or growing a fan-base, we don’t really give a damn. It’s cliché as shit but it’s true; we didn’t start this to become famous, we started it because we love it and we have a fucking blast doing it.

The last thing I want to say is more of a disclaimer. One of the main reasons I love hip-hop is that it is expression in its rawest form. It’s unfiltered, uncomfortable, and rarely politically correct (at least the best stuff is). So you’re gonna hear some stuff that doesn’t sit well with you, and it might even make you angry. I say good. My goal is to move you in some way, whether it’s laughter, anger, reflection, or inspiration. Regardless of how tasteless and/or offensive I can be, I’m always expressing something, even if it’s indirect or disguised in humor. It’s rarely logical, but that’s the beauty of expression.

Some of these songs were written over four years ago, some were written a few months ago, and as a result it is a bit all over the place. So tuck your napkin into your shirt and enjoy these Tales from Mongolian BBQ.

credits

released August 22, 2013

Produced by Rob-Dawg-The-Reaper & Sticky Bandit
Lyrics by Nick the 6'4 Satyr

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Cougar Magnum Sacramento, California

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