The Signal + The Noise

by Dopey Ziegler + Variant

supported by
mathie
mathie thumbnail
mathie it's a ~fantabulous rap extravaganza~
Aleksander Sullivan
Aleksander Sullivan thumbnail
Aleksander Sullivan Fucken wicked . All around hella tight sounds & sick flows. 10/10 Favorite track: Khamsa (feat. Navi).
Mark Nichols
Mark Nichols thumbnail
Mark Nichols 100% sick, Variant and Ziegler just keep getting better. Favorite track: Khamsa (feat. Navi).
Micah Hale
Micah Hale thumbnail
Micah Hale This is an album that you love to blast in your car. Hella fun with the braggadocios lyrical prowess that only Dopey can provide. His second verse on Dragon Alliance deserves an honorable mention. Variant is an excellent producer and I love his work on anything I can catch him on. Favorite track: Khamsa (feat. Navi).
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about

A collaboration between me, rapper Dopey Ziegler, and beat guy Variant.

credits

released August 31, 2014

raps: Dopey Ziegler, Navi, Joey Zadjino, The Mighty Rhino, Satellite High, & Jesse Dangerously
cuts: Dopey Ziegler
prod: Variant

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Dopey Ziegler San Jose, California

Gourmet artisanal hip-hop, seasoned with Sefardi influences.

contact / help

Contact Dopey Ziegler

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Track Name: Position Paper
freezing on the couch passin out watching garden state
dark roast drippin down and sizzle on the coffeemate
writs of discombobulated wisdom on a knockin break
coppin cake, payments stay dreaded like a rasta face
listen i don't write rap songs i write position papers
hip to capers motherfucker shit you must be sniffin vapors
kiss the gators, its some kicks im finna pick em later
scoop a little nissin top ramen its the chicken flavor

clan chief unalac, mark get the coup de grace
chuck him in the south sea, shark bait oo ha ha
(sharkbait! oohaha!) pour one out for all my hugenots
bars is stupid hot, steelo copped it from illuminat
call of duty mooks and glocks yall is some palooka squat
sierra hotel's a code that means the dookie's hot
white people never know if rappers is a group or not
"my favorite rap group is dopey ziegler" shoot me ock
Track Name: Knowledge Columns
listen, these sixteen ways to kick raps
will make your jaw drop, sparking virality clickbacks
never pause, stop writing no biting or skipped tracks
when the claws drop to tables enable a sick scratch
write for herbs and the purses of nerd dads
knowledge ock, block verses of words in wordpad
a solid plot to get em written no fiction i burn past
all of your surrogate murders with my thermos and zip bag
yep, me and pearman has never been mismatched
and all the coattail riders get severed and dispatched
since back in thousand five we been doper than fit hats
and though of late im taking classes yo scope it: the spits back
peep the nicest, make a beat with maschines and neat devices
these writes is what precise is, rewrite if you seek the likeness
do not front, as your slight'll precede a crisis
i know you aint tryna scheme on a demon that leaves you lifeless

shtayim, beat biblical bust out broke beaters
cause the rhyme-speak's physical plus we wrote heaters
and i ain't really up for dawkins but don't court believers
tho im psyched to see my piece is discussed among social readers
practiced with the hands and i treat a dame saintly
plus the pillow talk is makin fun of puas mainly
stately, think it might just be the fame lately
but i might just be the greatest conceived in the late eighties
fucks never fade me, i lust for mercedes
and can suss when you just isn't busting it greatly
jesus couldn't save me, get duffed if you play me
timbo stompin on your wack as fuck chucks on the daily
so, i know you know i know my foes are naughty
im tryna come up like keanu when he knows karate
yet to wake up in a chrome bugatti
but i am probably the rap game shalom shabazi

and orca whales roll in matrilines clans and communities
with dialects so i respect their rights due to fluency
who is me? bar kokhba, son of star, tunefully
ruining beats, foolish peeps are soon to be, truant, yee
rappers i consume with ease, crews aint hella rude to me
i rule the beat, head up on the throne i never puke in streets
ladies think i'm super neat, never shoot like ludovic
cruisin streets, used to be fiendin for a stupid jeep
beep beep, steez is so profane and hyperliterate
and if you kill that shit when spittin writs i might consider it
otherwise just shut your shitter dick cause i be willing it
and yall dont wanna get up in a tiff with my recidivists
im just wack a little bit, yall just sound like dips and shit
pistol whipped and whether slizzered zip without a chick to frick
conscious, yes, but minimalist, if you can remember this
its simple scripts thats iller than the little pen theyre scribbled wit
Track Name: Khamsa (feat. Navi)
(Navi)
when navi crack a beat that needs boggling, flow exceeds bottling
Dasani calls hobbling my whole cell quadrant
resulting mad scramble vandal derail transit
man sorry, tend to ramble off on detailed tangents
red light candle to the best mic squadron
(i don’t even watch porn) but, d was not an option
we’ll provide the airborne complemental popcorn
(funk it like the boot’s torn) continental shoehorn
fitting how we kicking it. askew and true and different
(you would) think we’d (turned to) liquid 'stead of being branded
(granted!) we got a couple notches on the belt
couple van gogh spotches on the canvas on the shelf
hell, from doing sleight of hand tricks, arguing semantics
(the best in the west) while i rep the midatlantic
check - beat slick beatnik with the v-tech
flooding like the C deck on the titanic

(Dopey Ziegler)
come correct, sample chops thumpin out a grungy deck
(drunk as heck) lunging for the jugular as im underfed
homocidal jungle cat, only settled under beds
catch me in an ultralight vibin eatin wonder bread
one percent, (never pay for beats tho) bummin
sixteen for a hunned fif, (haggle imma double it)
dragon with the funny spits, (cashin out the money chips)
lampin with a honeydip, abandon all u dummy kids
(gully shit) shift the tonearm for the needle drop
beat is hot, keep it under raps like a secret op
(hatin aint flying) like a eagle if it eat a lot
really not tryna peep u demons so im peacin ock
somethin like victor laszlo in casablanca
anaconda and a one-ton uzi in the tonka
stomp ya, somewhat same frame as a wampa
bonkers, big gold chain with a khamsa

(Dopey Ziegler)
villain with the penmanship, pilsner in the mini fridge
killin it, spit thru black filters for the sibilants
we listened to your shit, u should rescind it for your benefit
metamystik kids, nik and myf was in the syndicate

(Navi)
things might seem to get much more intricate
hanging with the lions of the jungle, a-wimboweh
spin direct messages that intercept your cinderella
sessions over rapper-type impressions while i'm in tibet

(Dopey Ziegler)
tintin, simba in the set slippin piff in cigarettes
fader's darth vader's hot saber when i hit the decks
hitting heads with some writtens that i interject
since 05's internet, MMI, in effect

(Navi)
MMI in effect, and I'm eyeing the rest
and I'm mayan, I guess, just beyond the calendar
crispy on a caliber of whiskey oak barrelers
man, i love this shit (oh yeah, why don’t you marry her?)
maybe i will!
Track Name: 100,000 Spacebucks (feat. Joey Zadjino)
(Dopey Ziegler)
i prolly aint the dude you're hopin to be facing
now you know you prolly shoulda put your shoulder into scapin
i scope the situation -- your flows is imitation
vader told me on his station though its no disintegrations
soak it in, i know its sorta soberin information
but my whole consideration is for doper innovations
im so into predating on you hopeless little cravens
sofer for the cake and im a cobra in the making
sapient, used to fuck with gtkradiant
bass in 808 states, paper stay salient
blatantly prophetic in a cadence with a shady bent
variant’s the main event, savor burning crazy ents
yall beneath the median, you don’t need dancers
you need to get a beefy hand to your teeth champers
these dudes can’t lose, zach producin me and the
fuckin world champ rap game judah friedlander

(Dopey Ziegler)
(plus) yall are lame ducks, finna cause u pain (sup)
gray nike match preme clean and and staying laced up
(stay stuck), rappin i’ll employ it but the pay sucks
prolly shoot a rapper for a hundred thousand spacebucks

(Joey Zadjino)
so when you see us floatin through be sure to wave at us
the greatest to say this shit in a 40k mile radius (bruh)
we never sleep we stayin up we never fake the funk
that disrespectful shit could turn your life to wrestlemania

(Joey Zadjino)
it’s your boy with no with no Ls on the record
drop god’s accomplishments with minimal effort
the most intricate ever, the foes’ll get their shit severed
there’s no little kids, idiots need to get to the exit
im a beast on the tec shit (it’s the truth)
fuck around and get your teeth on a necklace
you can believe it, i said it
i’m unbelievably fresh, super suit with the Z on the chest
exclusively speaking, me is the best
yo, dopey told me i should do it so i did it
stupid strong at rap like popeye after the spinach
popping cans of whoopass off, let’s find the limit
just kidding, shit’s limitless idiot, come and get it (fuck em)
the people’s champ, yo i do it pro bono
hat hide the giant brain like mojo jojo
rapping in the matrix make the flows go slow-mo
it’s the dragon, so komodo, blowing smoke from my nose holes

(Dopey Ziegler)
damn i’m nice, eyes on swivel, young andalite
plannin tight fly bomb shit by fucking candlelight
fans like “damn this man can write” and i’d say the fans are right
i’m crammin writes even when at panda with my mans at night
plan to bite, imma be stampin on your rancid nikes
phantom type, ghosting with your fanta, pipe, and your bike
write a single, illustrate and shift it with my ample might
rappers get the whole frame twisted like a ammonite

(Joey Zadjino)
pack it in, i’ll rap better than you on accident
that trash you spit is wack and it’s bad so i’ll never stand for it (word)
i’m off the handle, can’t you see how far the handle is?
fam i’m out there spinnin past your vision in the black abyss (space)
when i’m finished, never step up to the mic next
life, death, stupid, you might end up with a sliced neck
visualize me rapping with these massive flexed biceps
never scared to hit em with the right, left--aight then

(Dopey Ziegler)
top flight, comma, not like yall claiming boss life
some of yall rappers is the cop type
yall are gobshites, sobbing off a small bite
rap game maqqabim, i’ll drop a squad of hoplites
it’s the maf, right? ziegler is the don and capo on-side
tryna make your non-life gone-like
did it cause it’s how i get my arm strips
not a fight when every single couplet is a palm strike

(Joey Zadjino)
people ask me “yo joey z, how’d you get so tight at this?”
right? i’m sick, peep the triangles around the irises
the all seeing eye on some osiris shit
find me in the sky, i’m boxing gods with a crazy exchange of flying fists
(idiot) and i’m nonstop winnin
the foot on your chest, hittin you with the “ha-ha” grinnin
(good?) i’m the best, shit should not get twisted
let me show you how easy doing this hop-hip shit is (dang)
Track Name: Navajo Moose
ziegler
wreck it from the watsonville jects to modesto
def flow, mostly up on shit reddit says tho
just so, when it comes to beats i'm a klepto
half cole phelps--nah, cohen--half kelso
fair weather friends circled till the god got thunder
tell em fronting on the maf is a top-notch blunder
catch me online, yall don't want to cop numbers
http://navajomoose.tumblr
hoping to be scopin them chips for doper living
pole position chicks and kicks by kobesystem
though i don't and i cope with it over rhythm
so like, vocally, you folks have a soberin hope of livin
yeah, live my life under the star and the grizzly
one claw with the fifth, one scrawlin on the spit sheet
this heat, variant proceeding with the sick beat
5'6.5" ball like i'm 6'8"
ziegler
stop
Track Name: Position II
freezing on the couch passin out watching garden state
dark roast drippin down and sizzle on the coffeemate
writs of discombobulated wisdom on a knockin break
coppin cake, payments stay dreaded like a rasta face
listen i don't write rap songs i write position papers
hip to capers motherfucker shit you must be sniffin vapors
kiss the gators, its some kicks im finna pick em later
scoop a little nissin top ramen its the chicken flavor

clan chief unalac, mark get the coup de grace
chuck him in the south sea, shark bait oo ha ha
(sharkbait! oohaha!) pour one out for all my hugenots
bars is stupid hot, steelo copped it from illuminat
call of duty mooks and glocks yall is some palooka squat
sierra hotel's a code that means the dookie's hot
white people never know if rappers is a group or not
"my favorite rap group is dopey ziegler" shoot me ock
Track Name: Knowledge II
listen, these sixteen ways to kick raps
will make your jaw drop, sparking virality clickbacks
never pause, stop writing no biting or skipped tracks
when the claws drop to tables enable a sick scratch
write for herbs and the purses of nerd dads
knowledge ock, block verses of words in wordpad
a solid plot to get em written no fiction i burn past
all of your surrogate murders with my thermos and zip bag
yep, me and pearman has never been mismatched
and all the coattail riders get severed and dispatched
since back in thousand five we been doper than fit hats
and though of late im taking classes yo scope it: the spits back
peep the nicest, make a beat with maschines and neat devices
these writes is what precise is, rewrite if you seek the likeness
do not front, as your slight'll precede a crisis
i know you aint tryna scheme on a demon that leaves you lifeless

shtayim, beat biblical bust out broke beaters
cause the rhyme-speak's physical plus we wrote heaters
and i ain't really up for dawkins but don't court believers
tho im psyched to see my piece is discussed among social readers
practiced with the hands and i treat a dame saintly
plus the pillow talk is makin fun of puas mainly
stately, think it might just be the fame lately
but i might just be the greatest conceived in the late eighties
fucks never fade me, i lust for mercedes
and can suss when you just isn't busting it greatly
jesus couldn't save me, get duffed if you play me
timbo stompin on your wack as fuck chucks on the daily
so, i know you know i know my foes are naughty
im tryna come up like keanu when he knows karate
yet to wake up in a chrome bugatti
but i am probably the rap game shalom shabazi

and orca whales roll in matrilines clans and communities
with dialects so i respect their rights due to fluency
who is me? bar kokhba, son of star, tunefully
ruining beats, foolish peeps are soon to be, truant, yee
rappers i consume with ease, crews aint hella rude to me
i rule the beat, head up on the throne i never puke in streets
ladies think i'm super neat, never shoot like ludovic
cruisin streets, used to be fiendin for a stupid jeep
beep beep, steez is so profane and hyperliterate
and if you kill that shit when spittin writs i might consider it
otherwise just shut your shitter dick cause i be willing it
and yall dont wanna get up in a tiff with my recidivists
im just wack a little bit, yall just sound like dips and shit
pistol whipped and whether slizzered zip without a chick to frick
conscious, yes, but minimalist, if you can remember this
its simple scripts thats iller than the little pen theyre scribbled wit
Track Name: Khamsa II
(Navi)
when navi crack a beat that needs boggling, flow exceeds bottling
Dasani calls hobbling my whole cell quadrant
resulting mad scramble vandal derail transit
man sorry, tend to ramble off on detailed tangents
red light candle to the best mic squadron
(i don’t even watch porn) but, d was not an option
we’ll provide the airborne complemental popcorn
(funk it like the boot’s torn) continental shoehorn
fitting how we kicking it. askew and true and different
(you would) think we’d (turned to) liquid 'stead of being branded
(granted!) we got a couple notches on the belt
couple van gogh spotches on the canvas on the shelf
hell, from doing sleight of hand tricks, arguing semantics
(the best in the west) while i rep the midatlantic
check - beat slick beatnik with the v-tech
flooding like the C deck on the titanic

(Dopey Ziegler)
come correct, sample chops thumpin out a grungy deck
(drunk as heck) lunging for the jugular as im underfed
homocidal jungle cat, only settled under beds
catch me in an ultralight vibin eatin wonder bread
one percent, (never pay for beats tho) bummin
sixteen for a hunned fif, (haggle imma double it)
dragon with the funny spits, (cashin out the money chips)
lampin with a honeydip, abandon all u dummy kids
(gully shit) shift the tonearm for the needle drop
beat is hot, keep it under raps like a secret op
(hatin aint flying) like a eagle if it eat a lot
really not tryna peep u demons so im peacin ock
somethin like victor laszlo in casablanca
anaconda and a one-ton uzi in the tonka
stomp ya, somewhat same frame as a wampa
bonkers, big gold chain with a khamsa

(Dopey Ziegler)
villain with the penmanship, pilsner in the mini fridge
killin it, spit thru black filters for the sibilants
we listened to your shit, u should rescind it for your benefit
metamystik kids, nik and myf was in the syndicate

(Navi)
things might seem to get much more intricate
hanging with the lions of the jungle, a-wimboweh
spin direct messages that intercept your cinderella
sessions over rapper-type impressions while i'm in tibet

(Dopey Ziegler)
tintin, simba in the set slippin piff in cigarettes
fader's darth vader's hot saber when i hit the decks
hitting heads with some writtens that i interject
since 05's internet, MMI, in effect

(Navi)
MMI in effect, and I'm eyeing the rest
and I'm mayan, I guess, just beyond the calendar
crispy on a caliber of whiskey oak barrelers
man, i love this shit (oh yeah, why don’t you marry her?)
maybe i will!
Track Name: Spacebucks II
(Dopey Ziegler)
i prolly aint the dude you're hopin to be facing
now you know you prolly shoulda put your shoulder into scapin
i scope the situation -- your flows is imitation
vader told me on his station though its no disintegrations
soak it in, i know its sorta soberin information
but my whole consideration is for doper innovations
im so into predating on you hopeless little cravens
sofer for the cake and im a cobra in the making
sapient, used to fuck with gtkradiant
bass in 808 states, paper stay salient
blatantly prophetic in a cadence with a shady bent
variant’s the main event, savor burning crazy ents
yall beneath the median, you don’t need dancers
you need to get a beefy hand to your teeth champers
these dudes can’t lose, zach producin me and the
fuckin world champ rap game judah friedlander

(Dopey Ziegler)
(plus) yall are lame ducks, finna cause u pain (sup)
gray nike match preme clean and and staying laced up
(stay stuck), rappin i’ll employ it but the pay sucks
prolly shoot a rapper for a hundred thousand spacebucks

(Joey Zadjino)
so when you see us floatin through be sure to wave at us
the greatest to say this shit in a 40k mile radius (bruh)
we never sleep we stayin up we never fake the funk
that disrespectful shit could turn your life to wrestlemania

(Joey Zadjino)
it’s your boy with no with no Ls on the record
drop god’s accomplishments with minimal effort
the most intricate ever, the foes’ll get their shit severed
there’s no little kids, idiots need to get to the exit
im a beast on the tec shit (it’s the truth)
fuck around and get your teeth on a necklace
you can believe it, i said it
i’m unbelievably fresh, super suit with the Z on the chest
exclusively speaking, me is the best
yo, dopey told me i should do it so i did it
stupid strong at rap like popeye after the spinach
popping cans of whoopass off, let’s find the limit
just kidding, shit’s limitless idiot, come and get it (fuck em)
the people’s champ, yo i do it pro bono
hat hide the giant brain like mojo jojo
rapping in the matrix make the flows go slow-mo
it’s the dragon, so komodo, blowing smoke from my nose holes

(Dopey Ziegler)
damn i’m nice, eyes on swivel, young andalite
plannin tight fly bomb shit by fucking candlelight
fans like “damn this man can write” and i’d say the fans are right
i’m crammin writes even when at panda with my mans at night
plan to bite, imma be stampin on your rancid nikes
phantom type, ghosting with your fanta, pipe, and your bike
write a single, illustrate and shift it with my ample might
rappers get the whole frame twisted like a ammonite

(Joey Zadjino)
pack it in, i’ll rap better than you on accident
that trash you spit is wack and it’s bad so i’ll never stand for it (word)
i’m off the handle, can’t you see how far the handle is?
fam i’m out there spinnin past your vision in the black abyss (space)
when i’m finished, never step up to the mic next
life, death, stupid, you might end up with a sliced neck
visualize me rapping with these massive flexed biceps
never scared to hit em with the right, left--aight then

(Dopey Ziegler)
top flight, comma, not like yall claiming boss life
some of yall rappers is the cop type
yall are gobshites, sobbing off a small bite
rap game maqqabim, i’ll drop a squad of hoplites
it’s the maf, right? ziegler is the don and capo on-side
tryna make your non-life gone-like
did it cause it’s how i get my arm strips
not a fight when every single couplet is a palm strike

(Joey Zadjino)
people ask me “yo joey z, how’d you get so tight at this?”
right? i’m sick, peep the triangles around the irises
the all seeing eye on some osiris shit
find me in the sky, i’m boxing gods with a crazy exchange of flying fists
(idiot) and i’m nonstop winnin
the foot on your chest, hittin you with the “ha-ha” grinnin
(good?) i’m the best, shit should not get twisted
let me show you how easy doing this hop-hip shit is (dang)
Track Name: Navajo II
wreck it from the watsonville jects to modesto
def flow, mostly up on shit reddit says tho
just so, when it comes to beats i'm a klepto
half cole phelps--nah, cohen--half kelso
fair weather friends circled till the god got thunder
tell em fronting on the maf is a top-notch blunder
catch me online, yall don't want to cop numbers
http://navajomoose.tumblr
hoping to be scopin them chips for doper living
pole position chicks and kicks by kobesystem
though i don't and i cope with it over rhythm
so like, vocally, you folks have a soberin hope of livin
yeah, live my life under the star and the grizzly
one claw with the fifth, one scrawlin on the spit sheet
this heat, variant proceeding with the sick beat
5'6.5" ball like i'm 6'8"