Featuring MCs Qwazaar, Qwel, and Denizen Kane, producer DJ Natural and media assassin Kid Knish, Typical dropped a self-titled full-length album, Typical Cats, on Galapagos4 Records in 2002, and began a relentless campaign to restore a fallen hip hop world to its former promise and glory. The talent assembled was unmistakable, the sound created was formidable. Firmly planted in tradition, unorthodox in invention and possessed of a strength only earned in the furnace of experience, their sound is the future that hip hop's past would have had if its present weren't held hostage by the uninspired and unrepentant. A flurry of solo projects later, Chicago's prodigal sons return. Hip hoppers rejoice. Suckers duck and cover. Typical Cats come to conquer. Battle champs, hotline legends, poetry circuit kings. Typical cats released their second album titled Civil Service in 2004.
Typical Cats return, the last of the great true school crews—bearers of transformed tradition, innovators par excellence, and heralds of an undying devotion to the science and magic of boom bap music. The latest installment in the TC saga is 3, their third studio full-length. It plays like a message in a bottle from Hip Hop’s timeless present to the bizarre post-physical, digital, viral world in which we live. DJ Natural’s production chops have only deepened with time, and the rugged loops of the self-titled “Orange Album” and the live instrumentation of Civil Service have melded to yield a mélange of soul, jazz, funk, roots, radical politics, and a sly refusal to bend to the dictates of current fashion. Kid Knish reprises his role as hip hop’s all-time greatest unseen crew member (sorry, Jarobi), serving up samples, historical references, and vinyl oddities for Natural to slice and serve as android slabs of production genius.
TC’s trio of MCs—Qwel, Denizen Kane, and Qwazaar—rhyme like men breathing from the soles of their feet. The basis of their legend is in full effect—crackling chemistry, unnerving flow, and true stories. The album plays like a jazz-era cutting session turned confessional booth, a stylistically freewheeling effort threaded together by moments of revelation, underpinned by fiercely focused production and dominated by stories of journey, moments of transformation, and warnings against coming catastrophe. For TC, the MC is a misunderstood figure, a musical seer, a minor prophet, and reluctant hustler, using words to outwit enemies, trump circumstances, and emerge from the belly of the beast with respect and rent money.
Highlights abound—Kane returning to his spoken word roots on “Denizen Walks Away,” Qwel giving his early battle rap classics a run for their money on nickel-plated platters like “My Watch” and “Gordeon Knock,” and Qwazaar flexing uncanny musical intuition, anchoring the record with meditative efforts on “Puzzling Thing” and “Reflections from the Porch” before pummeling tracks like “Better Luck” and “On My Square.” Although the LP is studded with solo shots, crew tracks are the soul of the record. “On My Square” opens with a flurry of horns before exploding into an array of signature styles—multisyllabic combinations from Qwel, laid-back but incisive chatting from Kane, and a classic Qwa verse full of declarations, threats, and witticisms, all cemented by a Qwel chorus imbued with requisite layers of meaning. Natural’s production evolves with each verse, sliding from Meters style guitars with knocking drums to moody keys with ease.
The first single, “The Crown” is a frenetic display of jagged guitars and style-shifting that makes it a perfect complement to the Orange Album’s classic “Reinventing.” The name, however, is something of a misnomer. TC have never been interested in being kings. They’ve been griots shouting from the village limits, stoning the village idiots, interrupting thieves, and solidifying sterling reputations as rappers’ rappers, smokers’ smokers, underground Gs, tribal chiefs. There will never be another Typical Cats. They leave the set like five men exiting a burning building, leaving wrecked stages and a catalog of classics in their wake. With their exodus, we find ourselves suddenly grown, having come of age with the culture, standing, as always, at the crossroads. With the music, we move like Gayle Sayers, howl like Magic Sam, see the city like a kid on the project bench, and mark it all down in a black book that will never close. It is what it is. Forever.
QWAZAAR - A native of Chicago's gritty Low End, Qwazaar strikes from hip hop's essence. Whether the subject matter is inner city or interplanetary, the flow remains untouchable - a percussive yet fluid attack that evokes South Side rain and helicopter blades in a single breath. The content is heavy-a holdover from days when this veteran MC (No Pity/Outerlimitz) had to lyrically slay rivals to earn his sterling rep. "After the dust settles, witness the blood puddles..." Lights out, kids. The Q-W-A is here.
QWEL - You first saw his name dangling a quarter mile up on a suspension bridge from your scratch-bombed window on the Orange line. You first heard that distinctive melodic/abrasive storm of syllables on old Nacro and Scam Artist tapes with inserts printed at the Kinko's. Now the heat's been perfected and this nasty North Side revelation music rebel is out to wake the sleepers. From Ted Turner's devil ass to the so-called competition, everyone and their mama gets dealt with when the kid laces up his boots.
DENIZEN KANE - From the rum and Coke rumble of Chicago's North Side flow spots to the celluloid veneer of Def Poetry Jam's main stage, Denizen Kane rips the party with a poet's heart and an outsider's eye. Journalistic, impressionistic, real-life and drastic, young Kane's late night Red Line revelations turn into heathen hymns on tape, capturing the moody face of the metropolis in color. How long can a lost one roam until he finds his way home? Listen to your city fall apart through the muddy mouth of an immigrant.
Qweloquiallisms
Typical Cats Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
You spit irrelevant
Delicate flows
Speak child
Intelligent, Mellow shit kills fellowships ___ freestyles
Smile. Punch lines can crush the spines of the skeptics
Perfection stepped in
Check it, Check it
Hello, Hello
Yo Yo
I am, I ams dumb, dumb
Can, Can Qwel, Qwel rock, rock?
Well, Well um, um
Fear, fear kids, kids
Cans, cans spray paint _____
Look out below, its that flow that you were shoutin' 'bout so loud
Crush flows in mudslides
Ha ha that ra(?) in punchlines
Funny like when the thug sun dies at moonrise
I'm sunshine
Echos at graveyards are speakin' of us(Echoed)
Seekin to touch those rainbow demons breathin' beneath graffiti buffs
Feed the needy
Fucking bleeding down the side of silver snakes
_____ in a hollow-safeguard(?)
Dollars in graveyards fill your graves
Listen through submission and sadistic cultures
And demon's guns surround our suns like Copernicus-tic vultures
Soldier's clothing
Golden swoling(?)
Souls in carcass herses
Curse your first-person
And search for serpents in our verses
Your crew bleeds too profusely
Who gave groupies ______
Standing over the remains of a slain fifth-grade class mate
Who's got cooties
Excuse me, emcees
Pretending not to envy me
But readily sending he____ of frenzy centipedes
Motherfuckers lack intensity
And can't rhyme either
I see words, split 'em in twice with reverbs
Become a believer
You blow like you're poprocks with 3 liters
The shit's on.(?)
Snap your fat lackin' tracks in half
Mine are big-boned
These styles be free
Qwel sees above weak emcees
Decibel levels
An infinite ______
Tesicle Jokes
Investin'in broke for lines
Not as dope as mine
Needs work
rehearse your speech slurs
I won like three thirds
Censor the census
On my five senses
And unisex the mutants
'Till the glitches in my wrist digits salute the richest humans
The worst heard herbal verbalist
My thirst for herbs further disturbs this itch
Servin' kids, track
Turnicates,
Smashin' furnishings after class
With the get in your ass pass, rappin backwards
Askin' for herbs and the last laugh, laugh
The song Qweloquiallisms by Typical Cats is an eloquent display of lyrical genius, filled with intricacy and depth. The song begins with "For the hell of it" which sets the tone for the entire song. The rapper speaks about spitting irrelevant, delicate flows while still remaining intelligent, which kills fellowships in freestyles. The punchlines can crush the spines of skeptics, indicating that the lyrics are so powerful that they can change people's minds.
As the song progresses, the rapper discusses the idea of perfection and how he is one of the best in the rap game. He talks about himself in a self-deprecating manner, questioning his abilities, but then claims to be dumb, yet wonders if he can rock like Qwel. He speaks about the fear and the kids who are spray painting cans and then shifts to the idea of mudslides and how his punchlines can crush people like them.
The song speaks to the power of words, the importance of using them for good, and the ability to challenge people's perceptions. The rapper weaves in social commentary on issues like poverty, violence, and inequality, while still showcasing his lyrical prowess.
Line by Line Meaning
For the hell of it
Just for fun, without any particular motive or reason
You spit irrelevant
You are saying things that are not related or important to the topic at hand
Delicate flows
Gentle and precise delivery of rap rhythms and verses
Speak child
Addressing someone in a condescending manner, implying that they are not mature enough to understand the topic at hand
Intelligent, Mellow shit kills fellowships ___ freestyles
The combination of smart and laid-back music can destroy the unity among rappers when it comes to freestyle battles
Smile. Punch lines can crush the spines of the skeptics
A warning to critics of the seriousness and wit behind the rapper's punch lines
Perfection stepped in
A claim that the rapper has reached a high level of excellence in their art
Three guesses who the best is
A suggestion for the listener to guess who the top rapper is, with the assurance that it is the artist themselves
Check it, Check it
A call to attention, asking the listener to focus on what is coming next
Hello, Hello
A simple greeting, like answering a phone call or starting an introduction
Yo Yo
A slang greeting used within the hip-hop community
I am, I ams dumb, dumb
A self-deprecating statement, claiming that the rapper is not smart
Can, Can Qwel, Qwel rock, rock?
A question asking whether the rapper can perform well
Well, Well um, um
An unsure, stuttering response
Fear, fear kids, kids
A warning to children to be afraid of the rapper due to their skills and reputation
Cans, cans spray paint _____
An incomplete phrase that suggests the rapper is involved in graffiti or street art culture
Look out below, its that flow that you were shoutin' 'bout so loud
The rapper's rhymes are so powerful that they are causing a commotion in the rap scene
Crush flows in mudslides
The rapper's flow is so unstoppable that it can take down entire groups of rappers
Ha ha that ra(?) in punchlines
An unknown word or sound that is just a part of the rapper's rhyming sequence
Funny like when the thug sun dies at moonrise
A metaphorical statement suggesting that the rapper's humor is dark and ironic
I'm sunshine
The rapper is a positive force, like the sun giving light and warmth
Echos at graveyards are speakin' of us(Echoed)
Even the deceased are aware of the rapper's talent, as their echoes can be heard talking about them
Seekin to touch those rainbow demons breathin' beneath graffiti buffs
The rapper is inspired to reach new levels of creativity and imagination, finding inspiration in street art culture
Feed the needy
The rapper wants to give back to the community and help those in need
Fucking bleeding down the side of silver snakes
A vivid image describing someone bleeding profusely, like the metallic scales of a snake
_____ in a hollow-safeguard(?)
An incomplete phrase that may suggest a secret or protected location
Dollars in graveyards fill your graves
The rapper is warning rappers about the dangerous lifestyle of taking on too many dangerous or illegal risks in exchange for money
Listen through submission and sadistic cultures
A suggestion that the listener needs to be open-minded to and aware of the dangerous and violent aspects of some cultures
And demon's guns surround our suns like Copernicus-tic vultures
A metaphorical statement describing the violent and oppressive nature of authority and power
Soldier's clothing
A reference to the militaristic style of dress and attitude sometimes seen in hip-hop culture
Golden swoling(?)
An unknown term used to describe something valuable and impressive
Souls in carcass herses
A morbid image describing the bleak reality of urban violence and crime
Curse your first-person
A warning to rappers to be careful with the way they present themselves in their lyrics and to avoid curse words and expletives
And search for serpents in our verses
The rapper is aware of the potential for criticism and negative attention, and is cautioning other rappers to be aware and prepared for similar scrutiny
Your crew bleeds too profusely
The rapper is criticizing other groups for being too violent and aggressive
Who gave groupies ______
An incomplete phrase that might suggest the rapper is talking about sex appeal or sexual partners
Standing over the remains of a slain fifth-grade class mate
A shocking image that suggests the rapper has seen or knows about horrific violence against children
Who's got cooties
A juvenile reference to an age-old playground insult, indicating the rapper's childish sense of humor
Excuse me, emcees
A mocking apology to other rappers for being so good at what they do
Pretending not to envy me
The rapper is aware that others are envious of their success and talent, but are pretending not to be
But readily sending he____ of frenzy centipedes
An incomplete phrase that seems to suggest the other rappers are trying to sabotage or attack the rapper
Motherfuckers lack intensity
The rapper is criticizing others for not having enough energy or passion in their music
And can't rhyme either
A double insult suggesting that other rappers are not only not energetic enough, but also aren't good enough lyricists
I see words, split 'em in twice with reverbs
The rapper has a unique and impressive ability to manipulate language in order to create new sounds and layers in their rhyming
Become a believer
The rapper is confident that their skills will impress even the most skeptical listeners
You blow like you're poprocks with 3 liters
A metaphorical insult suggesting that other rappers are fake and superficial, like pop rocks candy that loses its flavor after a brief burst of fizziness
The shit's on.(?)
An unclear phrase that may suggest the rapper is ready to take on any challenge or competitor
Snap your fat lackin' tracks in half
The rapper is threatening to destroy the musical offerings of other rappers, which they consider to be poorly done or lacking in substance
Mine are big-boned
The rapper has a sense of pride in their own music, seeing it as having more substance and weight than others
These styles be free
A nod to the improvisational and unbounded nature of hip-hop music
Qwel sees above weak emcees
The rapper is confident in their ability to identify when others are not on their level
Decibel levels
A reference to the loud and intense nature of hip-hop music and performances
An infinite ______
An incomplete phrase that might suggest the rapper is discussing something that is never-ending or infinitely large
Tesicle Jokes
A reference to immature jokes about sex and genitalia, which the rapper may be mocking or critiquing
Investin'in broke for lines
The rapper suggests that some people are putting too much time, energy, and pride into their rhymes, even though they are not successful
Not as dope as mine
The rapper is very sure of their own skills and doesn't consider other rappers as being worthy competitors
Needs work
A blunt suggestion that someone's music or performance is not good enough and needs improvement
rehearse your speech slurs
A direct instruction to another rapper to practice and improve their rhythm and delivery style
I won like three thirds
A metaphorical statement that the rapper is always winning or succeeding at a high level
Censor the census
A clever and alliterative phrase that suggests the need to control or censor data-gathering about populations
On my five senses
The rapper is suggesting that their sensory awareness and intuition is highly attuned
And unisex the mutants
A creative and odd phrase that might suggest the rapper is playing with gender and identity norms in a lighthearted way
'Till the glitches in my wrist digits salute the richest humans
An intriguing and nebulous phrase that feels open to interpretation, but suggests some sort of merging or intersection between technology and wealth
The worst heard herbal verbalist
The artist is mocking or critiquing another rapper for being bad at rhyming or freestyling, even while referencing herbal or drug-related themes
My thirst for herbs further disturbs this itch
An ambiguous and poetic phrase that seems to describe a physical or emotional craving for something
Servin' kids, track
An incomplete phrase that might suggest the singer is offering or selling their music to young fans
Turnicates,
An unclear reference, which might be a made-up word or inside joke among the rapper's fans
Smashin' furnishings after class
A suggestion that the artists are rebellious and destructive, even outside of their music
With the get in your ass pass, rappin backwards
An enigmatic and playful phrase, which seems to suggest the rapper is able to perform well in many different challenging situations
Askin' for herbs and the last laugh, laugh
Another ambiguous phrase that suggests the artist is looking for something, possibly drugs, and also some sort of gratification or satisfaction
Lyrics © OBO APRA/AMCOS
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
c0rry
For the hell of it
You spit irrelevant
Delicate flows
Speak child
Intelligent, Mellow shit kills fellowships bellowing freestyles
Smile. Punch lines can crush the spines of the skeptics
Perfection stepped in
Three guesses who the best is
Check it, Check it
Hello, Hello
Yo Yo
I am, I ams dumb, dumb
Can, Can Qwel, Qwel rock, rock?
Well, Well um, um
Fear, fear kids, kids
Cans, cans spray paint now, now
Look out below, where's that flow you were shoutin' bout so loud?
Crush flows in mudslides
I’m ‘Ha-Ha’– that raw with punchlines
Funny like when a thug's son dies at moonrise
I'm sunshine
Echos in graveyards are speakin' of us(Echoed)
Seekin to touch those rainbow demons breathin' beneath graffiti buffs
Feed the needy
Fucking bleeding down the side of silver snakes
Hollering a hollow ‘save god
Dollars in graveyards fill your graves
Listen through submission and sadistic cultures
And demon's guns surround our suns like Copernicus-tic vultures
Soldier’s clothed in golden
Souls in carcass hearses
Curse in first-person
And search for serpents in our verses
Your crew bleeds too profusely
Who gave groupies loosely
Standing over the remains of a slain fifth-grade class mate
Who's got cooties
Excuse me, emcees
Pretending not to envy me
But readily sending me these seas of frenzied centipedes
Motherfuckers lack intensity
And can't rhyme either
I see words, split 'em in twice with reverbs
Become a believer
You blow like you're Pop Rocks with 3 liters
The shit's on
Snap your fat lackin' tracks in half
Mine are big-boned
These styles be free
Qwel sees above weak emcees
Decibel levels
And infinitesimal
Testicle Jokes
Investin'in broke for lines
Not as dope as mine
Needs work
Rehearse your speech slurs
I won like three thirds
Censor the census
On my five senses
And unisex the mutants
'Till the glitches in my wrist digits salute the richest humans
The worst heard herbal verbalist
My thirst for herbs further disturbs this itch
Servin' kids, track
Tourniquets
Smashin' furnishings after class
With the get in your ass pass, rappin backwards
Askin' for herbs and the last laugh, laugh
ClusiveC
Askin' for herbs and last laugh, laughing like I'm Joker
Lyrics smoke ya, with the tactics of a shogun
Flipping verbal acrobatics while stabbing on the Sabbath
Rap-mathematics leaving MCs flat and splattered
The worst heard herbal verbalist, mystics cursing this
verbal tourniquet, that's sadistic and its murderous
Described as a wizard witches wishing for whatever;
I spout a verse to cause overcast and rainy weather,
with words that sever, my connection to all reality
Technicalities and fatalities leave me babbling
Producing white spittle and foam, from my mouth
The masses rout, when I lose my patience and I cast a drought.
I have a snout, and my appearance is just a hindrance
I have the clearance to send several spirits to your dearest
Dear diary, today everything was really riling me
Inspiring, my mind to create nuclear thought firings.
In spite of me, I see a seahorse when I see the picture
I leave the fixture to all the chemists to create mixtures
That bind you, into a cage, and all entrapments
Battlements, will always rattle it, when I am saddling
The throne of the king, with all infinite power
I send rainstorms to shower towers, hour by hour
With nothing but a flick of the wrist - the rap alchemist,
I tryst, with myself inside a shroud of black mist
Never miss, always kicking shit that leaves you in a hex
I dissect, the complex mess, of your girl's sex
Never test, my flows level shit, when I settle it
I bend your style into a bike chain, and I pedal it
In your business I'm meddling; I like to be hearing it
I hide away inside your trunk, just for interference
c0rry
For the hell of it
You spit irrelevant
Delicate flows
Speak child
Intelligent, Mellow shit kills fellowships bellowing freestyles
Smile. Punch lines can crush the spines of the skeptics
Perfection stepped in
Three guesses who the best is
Check it, Check it
Hello, Hello
Yo Yo
I am, I ams dumb, dumb
Can, Can Qwel, Qwel rock, rock?
Well, Well um, um
Fear, fear kids, kids
Cans, cans spray paint now, now
Look out below, where's that flow you were shoutin' bout so loud?
Crush flows in mudslides
I’m ‘Ha-Ha’– that raw with punchlines
Funny like when a thug's son dies at moonrise
I'm sunshine
Echos in graveyards are speakin' of us(Echoed)
Seekin to touch those rainbow demons breathin' beneath graffiti buffs
Feed the needy
Fucking bleeding down the side of silver snakes
Hollering a hollow ‘save god
Dollars in graveyards fill your graves
Listen through submission and sadistic cultures
And demon's guns surround our suns like Copernicus-tic vultures
Soldier’s clothed in golden
Souls in carcass hearses
Curse in first-person
And search for serpents in our verses
Your crew bleeds too profusely
Who gave groupies loosely
Standing over the remains of a slain fifth-grade class mate
Who's got cooties
Excuse me, emcees
Pretending not to envy me
But readily sending me these seas of frenzied centipedes
Motherfuckers lack intensity
And can't rhyme either
I see words, split 'em in twice with reverbs
Become a believer
You blow like you're Pop Rocks with 3 liters
The shit's on
Snap your fat lackin' tracks in half
Mine are big-boned
These styles be free
Qwel sees above weak emcees
Decibel levels
And infinitesimal
Testicle Jokes
Investin'in broke for lines
Not as dope as mine
Needs work
Rehearse your speech slurs
I won like three thirds
Censor the census
On my five senses
And unisex the mutants
'Till the glitches in my wrist digits salute the richest humans
The worst heard herbal verbalist
My thirst for herbs further disturbs this itch
Servin' kids, track
Tourniquets
Smashin' furnishings after class
With the get in your ass pass, rappin backwards
Askin' for herbs and the last laugh, laugh
ClusiveC
For those fo you with low hip hop IQs, this is what's called a rap technician. In other words, his technical skill/rhyming technique is masterful.
Katie Powell
Smile
Punch lines can crush the spines of the skeptics
Perfection stepped in
Three guesses who the best is
NameBrandClique
I wanna make music like this - PERFECT
James Safarik
One of my favorite Hip-hop joints
cafehc
he had the lyrics, the beats, the image and the soul required to make a great rap artist... i still don't think he is the best, but thats just 'cause i'm more into lyricism...
Cameron Shackelford
love how it makes me feel illiterate inspires me to get in the books thats what music should do
ClusiveC
Askin' for herbs and last laugh, laughing like I'm Joker
Lyrics smoke ya, with the tactics of a shogun
Flipping verbal acrobatics while stabbing on the Sabbath
Rap-mathematics leaving MCs flat and splattered
The worst heard herbal verbalist, mystics cursing this
verbal tourniquet, that's sadistic and its murderous
Described as a wizard witches wishing for whatever;
I spout a verse to cause overcast and rainy weather,
with words that sever, my connection to all reality
Technicalities and fatalities leave me babbling
Producing white spittle and foam, from my mouth
The masses rout, when I lose my patience and I cast a drought.
I have a snout, and my appearance is just a hindrance
I have the clearance to send several spirits to your dearest
Dear diary, today everything was really riling me
Inspiring, my mind to create nuclear thought firings.
In spite of me, I see a seahorse when I see the picture
I leave the fixture to all the chemists to create mixtures
That bind you, into a cage, and all entrapments
Battlements, will always rattle it, when I am saddling
The throne of the king, with all infinite power
I send rainstorms to shower towers, hour by hour
With nothing but a flick of the wrist - the rap alchemist,
I tryst, with myself inside a shroud of black mist
Never miss, always kicking shit that leaves you in a hex
I dissect, the complex mess, of your girl's sex
Never test, my flows level shit, when I settle it
I bend your style into a bike chain, and I pedal it
In your business I'm meddling; I like to be hearing it
I hide away inside your trunk, just for interference
Shawn N
4 year old post so I’m late to it, but agreed 100 percent those thought provoking words are sick as shit. Keep those in your journal bruh
ClusiveC
@Kieran Giles if I had some equipment I would but if I tried to record it now, it'd be terrible quality