PRIVATE STΩCK EP III: Passions, Stressors & Vices

by Fineprint Misread

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The third entry in this ongoing series which focuses more on my aspirations, my vices and the other things in my life which stress me out. #VIBE to the tunes as I bare my soul.

"PRIVATE STΩCK EP III: Passions, Stressors & Vices" track listing:

1 Release Therapy: The PRIVATE STΩCK EP III Intro [Over A Beat By Riddle}
2 Leave Me Be, Pt. III [Over A Beat By The Fam & Boi-1da}
3 Look at the Stars (Fast Women, Fast Cars) [Over A Beat By Riddle}
4 Corinthian Leather: A Sexual Tale with a Twist [Over A Beat By Analogic}
5 Brainstormin' (#ThunderThighs) [Over A Beat By Pete Rock}
6 Attack Choppers: The Sequel feat. Lyrical Proficient C [Over A Beat By Black Milk} **Bonus Track**

Fineprint Misread
Fuckin' Chill/Conscious Hip-Hop
Fearless Heights / #TGL Recordings


released October 20, 2016



all rights reserved


Fineprint Misread Memphis, Tennessee

Born January 11, 1988 in Memphis, TN; Eddie White (Known as Fineprint Misread) always wanted to be entertainer. Whether it was through acting, poetry or music, he knew he wanted to shine. He started out with aspirations of being a comic book artist and poet, but the poetry part soon turned into rapping. At the present time, he's perfecting his craft as an artist. Stay tuned. ... more

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Track Name: Release Therapy: The PRIVATE STΩCK EP III Intro [Over A Beat By Riddle}
"Release Therapy: The PRIVATE STΩCK EP III Intro"

Upon my page
And while the wind blows
I open my arms
And just let them go

Verse 1:
Take a deep breath then let the smoke flow out my body
Focused on my work, 'cause this shit is not a hobby
I'm bad when I spit, leavin' pop filters soggy
But not as bad as Hillary Clinton - wit' Benghazi
Dreamt I could fly, woke up an' sprouted wings
Started workin' on "The Winner's Theme", in league to be a king
Eat a lil' cuisine, enough to make my mind work
Meditate to set me straight, gotta keep the grind first
Can't you see I'm growin'? Well let me take you back
To "Rehabilitation Pt. 1", the 10th track
You can - give me your heart or give me nothin' at all
Give me a reason to fly or a reason to fall
See the beauty of it all is makin' it on my own
Not askin' for no handouts or niggaz to put me on
Yet an' still, I take help when it's offered
'Cause I'm really sick an' tired of bein' the pauper
Ya know...


Verse 2:
For me this is release therapy
Open up my soul an' let the beat carry me
Upon my page, where the sheets ferry me
To another plane, just a different train of thought, merrily
Just droppin' a song, yeah jottin' my thoughts
Feelin's hop off my tongue, now they startin' to walk
The words startin' to talk, take on a life of their own
I can feel the heartbeat through the mic-a-rophone
An' what I write off my dome, is sorta like a novella
Accompanied by a beat, an' sometimes a capella
Goin' over ya head like a black hole or nebula
Taste subjective, but a taste of me ain't regular
I build wit' lyrical vernacular
Preachin' to the secular, givin' 'em nothin' short of spectacular
Bars that'll tackle ya to show you where I come from
Fuck what ya heard wit' sperm dancin' on ya eardrum

Track Name: Leave Me Be, Pt. III [Over A Beat By The Fam & Boi-1da}
"Leave Me Be, Pt. III"

I see niggaz losin' they minds, they ammo is low
So them trump cards at play, so glad I got 'em to show
But bullshit doesn't affect me; strictly, you can't check me
Don't forget, I know what you did last summer -- Johnny Galecki
A few got subliminals, prayin' to wreck me
But I'm Samson in the clutch, no weight is too heavy
I could give two fucks if this rap game accepts me
'Cause nobody gives this much heart, except me
Take this how you wanna take it, I'm gettin' shit off my chest
I used to care about the dollars, used to care about bein' the best
I used to care, used to stress the importance
Dead sick, bringin' stress to my organs
So much shit in my life that I gotta sort
Separate the real from the fake that never support
Snakes - in wolves' clothin', rock sheep masks for sport
An' - these the guys I used to call my cohorts?
See bitches love you when they think you poppin'
Finicky wit' their faith, jump ship when it's rockin'
I'm the furthest thing from perfect, but pardon me for tryin'
An' seein' thru the smokescreen that they call lyin'
I just - wanna build a empire like Lucious Lyon
King of the jungle, a - ruthless lion
It's - who you're facin'... was meant for greatness
Came to the fork in the road I scrape my plate wit'
Backstabbers morphed from the niggaz I ate wit'
One monkey don't stop none, so I go ape shit
I - laid the blueprint, you niggaz just trace it
So please don't come around tryin' my patience
Fa'real... 'cause everything I touch turns gold, nigga
I'll put ya state of being in a sleep hold, nigga
Give you the boot like I'm speakin' Creole, nigga
No new friends an' ain't here to see ol' niggaz
I could teach you the ropes, you learn to rappel
So when the pressure's on, start savin' ya'selves
Stick to the script, streets runnin' screen tests
Just to see if you'll act right, heh, so pack light
Fa'real -- 'cause you gon' hurt yo' back
Carryin' them bags, unburyin' ya past
Sparkin' up the drama, see you ferry in the bad
'Til they clap you, Tinkerbell, put the fairy in a bag
Fa'real... an' I'm just speakin' the truth
Muthafuck ya engineer, fuck what you say in the booth
Muthafucka get it clear, you'll never see me flee
Leave this rap shit to me an' fuckin' leave me be
Track Name: Look at the Stars (Fast Women, Fast Cars) [Over A Beat By Riddle}
"Look at the Stars (Fast Women, Fast Cars)"

All my life I been attracted to fast women, fast cars
That's why you find 'em in my songs when I rap bars
No roof here, just wanna look at the stars
Me an' my girl on chill, just lookin' because

Verse 1:
Laid back wit' the earbuds in, brainstormin'
I feel it in the air, comin' on, storm-warnin'
Dreamin' - of e'rything I want an' don't have
An' how it seems sometimes this shit right in my grasp
Thinkin' back on years past, come far as a artist
Nigga 28 now, career still ain't started
Despite that, never quit, just focus on the get-back
Even wit' the hunger pangs an' all that comes wit' that
An' even wit' the setbacks, never let my stride halt
Keep it movin' forward 'til the day I ride off
Or either pull up to you niggaz in a Bugatti Veyron
Roll down the window to chunk the deuce then head on
Would love to shit on those that shitted on me
Especially those who never had faith in a G
An' when I say G, I mean a GOD; recognize my own power
For mere men, anything you touch will sour


Verse 2:
I - fancy myself a career polygamist
'Cause I'm married to music, my novels, art an' film shit
But I ain't - said nuptials to my woman yet
Though she's my only love, door's not ready to open yet
If we gon' tie the knot, need all affairs settled
Get my credit score up, so we won't end up in the ghetto
An' before I put that ring on her, meet wit' her pops
Let 'em know I have the best intentions, that won't stop
Can't lie, my eyes wonder an' I window-shop
I spot voluptuous women that make my jaws drop
Often have thoughts, wishin' my girl was made like them
But I still love her, ain't gotta be a dame like them
Just - bit of a dog, ain't even tryna hide it
From the streets, you can catch me pissin' on fire hydrants
But I aim to be better, just - gotta work harder
'Cause the last thing I wanna be like is my father

Track Name: Corinthian Leather: A Sexual Tale with a Twist [Over A Beat By Analogic}
"Corinthian Leather: A Sexual Tale with a Twist"

Girl you know you wanna roll (Wanna roll), wanna ride
Hop inside (Hop inside), sit yo' ass on that seat
But before you hop in, take them shoes off ya feet
After that, we can cruise, coastin' to the beat

Verse 1:
You are now tuned - into my muhfuckin' poetry
A purple haze of pleasure, wit' a high level of potency
Can be that fuckin' dope, or whatever, you hope it be
Mellows you out, flowin' over - the coldest beats
Ridin' 2 miles per hour, so all these rubbernecks
Can see the flyest muhfucka ever yet
Stuntin', whippin' a Brougham, wit' wine-colored Corinthian Leather
That alone just ruffles feathers
Ridin' shotgun, is a model-type; so voluptuous
Ebony queen, blowin' shotguns from her esophagus
Pro'lly not possible, but you too high
To even tell what is really logical
All you know, she lookin' fine, tight dress an' Vicki draws
Louboutin pumps, had her kick them off
Size 8.5 feet, wicked-ass arch
Pretty-ass toes, almost ran yo' ass off the road


Verse 2:
Yeah, this moment's perfect; guess this cruise was worth it
Gettin' head in the whip, neck beautiful when she work it
While the 15" Alpines deliver thee
"BBS" by Curren$y, in outstandin' clarity
Only thing on ya mind now: Hopin' she don't squirt
An' - stain up the leather, while you finger her punani
It's too nice, softer than Ricardo described
An' she know ya dick hard, makin' it hard to drive
Plus them, feet on ya mind, wantin' a footjob
Might have to pull over right quick -- good God
Oh shit, 12 pullin' up, gon' zip it up
Looks like her soles won't get you off anytime soon
Malloy done hopped out, got his finger on his Glock
Walkin' like Yosemite Sam, yo-- don't end up shot
Get a candlelight vigil, while they shutdown the block
Shaun King come thru wit' Sharpton to stir up the pot
See how that escalated? All 'cause you was horny
Pullin' over, didn't even throw ya blinkers on
He thinkin' it's a car full of gangstas
'Cause of the - tinted windows an' the chunky rims
An' that fucks wit' him, pro'lly more on edge than you are
Peeped the Drive-out tag, think it ain't a new car
Figured it's stolen; assumptions are better than nothin'
Enough probable cause for him to get to bustin'
Now ya girl agitated, sensin' you scared
Callin' you a pussy, wavin' her hands in the air
Put them shoes back on, reachin' in her purse now
Pullin' out somethin' compact - that goes "BLAOW!"
Straightens up her hair, then unlocks the door
Opens it up, steps out, cockin' the .4
Caught off-guard, 6 shots went into his bod
He hit the ground, but not before he blew the brains off the broad

Track Name: Brainstormin' (#ThunderThighs): The PRIVATE STΩCK EP III Outro [Over A Beat By Pete Rock}
"Brainstormin' (Thunder Thighs)"

I ain't in the pussy, I'm just closin' my eyes
Thinkin' of rhymes, brainstormin' on her thunder thighs
Yeah, nigga this is for life...
What? Nigga this is so right

Verse 1:
Let's - sit back, relax; search the cerebellum for some rhymes
Cock the Parabellum, bust off this divine
Art of a Renaissance artisan, knowledge in the dart intertwined
From a bi-partisan mind
Shut my eyes, drift off, visions of a curvy goddess
Begin to run thru my brain
I - swear she's the hottest, but 'tween her legs I make it rain
Got her love comin' down like Evelyn Champagne
All I say is a stanza, she's all mine
Stars in her eyes, guaranteed they all shine
We don't fuck at all, maaan - we just chill
I lays on her thick thighs, an' we build
Brainstormin' 'til I see the Sandman
Droppin' sand in my eyes, now here comes the paradox
I'm sleep within a dream, an' dreamin' within that dream
Wakin' up out of my slumber wit' rhymes as I feen
For a microphone to slaughter like Nickle Nine or Crooked-I
Put it on a beat an' make sure that the hook is fire
If you know Fineprint, you know I never lie
But niggaz wanna take away my voice, I outcry
'Cause I ain't goin' out like that, never be censored
Hopefully my unwaverin' stance is remembered
Snakes in the grass, watch them serpents get dismembered
Once the - John Deere gets to rollin' on them niggaz


Verse 2:
I - takes my breaks, gather my steam
Build my confidence up, gotta keep myself esteemed
Struggled wit' self-esteem ever since I was a teen
An' actually as a kid wit' a horn that's quite green
I've been pursuin' rap for 11 years
An' still feel wet behind the ears
I can never seem to rationalize my fears
All I know is sometimes I break down in tears
My road to success full of snares an' sandtraps
More appear while I flow over snares an' handclaps
An' kicks; spin the record back, it's a roundhouse
Hittin' like it came from Ryu an' Ken
I foul you wit' the pen, that doubt you have within
Is pouncin' out ya skin, you spoutin' out the sin
I out you when you grin, foulin' all my friends
Usin' Hip-Hop, my only outlet in the end
Without that, I will spend, the rest of my life wit' no direction
Steady fadin', into a collection
Of the dregs of society, fallin' off my path of sobriety
Drinkin' to forget my unattained notoriety
Catchin' flak for my intolerance
Of homosexuals an' transexuals, it's mindbogglin'
I try to make sense of it since I wasn't raised
To see that as a natural state
I come off as a bigot, an' I pro'lly am
But - I didn't say I was proud
I just never been one to accept every crowd
So when I feel a certain way, I tend to get loud
If I apologized, it wouldn't be sincere
'Cause truth is -- this is me right here
So, if you wanna set me out, stand in line
An' by the way, I've been rappin' from a dream this whole time