Released on June 23, 2017

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Deep Breez ft. El Juba - “Wall”


[Emcee(s): El Juba and Breez Evahflowin’]


[Producer(s): Deep (of 2 Hungry Bros)]


[Verse 1: El Juba]

My views are my own, my blues are my own

My crew chop, schools scatter. Said, “I just came home”

Riders blockage like Fidel or [?]. The cow

Flew on the moon ‘til I found my voice and my true cool

I’m true-school, alpha, and omega, the parts on the paper

The darkest of thoughts, lightest of hearts, Ellison’s

Rinehart. The magical real for Gabrielle

They write about my daughter as well. To her, I would tell

The worst of my sins as sort of cautionary tale just

Like Lucky did with me since the day that I could spell

Never made the same mistakes twice. He gave me a cross

To bear. All us are off of the chair ‘cause somewhere

In America are Jubas who confused why they’re suffering. Is it

God don’t love ‘em? Or ‘cause life on Earth is worth nothing?

You know I tear you up with pop hits and dance

Tunes, but I want you ready—go to get your chair

Soon. All my homies, I told ‘em watch the sky to see

You tripping. I looked to the stars and said, “Goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye”


[Hook: Breez Evahflowin’ and El Juba]

Build a wall, kill ‘em all

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. Hey, hey!

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. Hey, hey!

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. Hey, hey!

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. Hey, hey!

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. Hey, hey!

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. Hey, hey!

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. Hey, hey!


[Verse 2: Breez Evahflowin’]

Build a wall, kill ‘em all. North American

This on some arrogance, ignores it all and only calls

Its own soil “American.” Some claim they need to see

Votes to know what’s happening. It’s happening now, to be

Specific. Intriguing—at the same time, horrific

This monolithic montage of politics blah-blah

You swallow it—glob, glob—then get robbed. Cycle repeat

Proof positive. The more you repeat any

Process, the product depletes. That’s the knowledge

Drug dealers are proud of thugs and even prowlers—no

Switch up your shit. At least add a tune to it

That Kennedy “we’re going to the moon” to it. Instead, it

Got a hint of doom to it. I zoom-zoom to it

That darkness that I remember from the womb fluid

I held it like I was immune to it

That “crush, kill, devour” or “flower and bloom” to it

I grew attuned to it, now

Have to make the music and use it to navigate

A room through it