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BearTooth Collective

Of Guts & Glory (feat. sp00kytooth, BigStupid​!​diot)

from by cunabear

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  • Yellow-Obsidian - Limited Edition Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

    Hand-Dubbed by Spoke Ashem.
    Presented by BearTooth Collective.
    Performed by Cunabear.

    Tapes come packaged with:
    - A seashell from Tybee Island
    - A random Magic The Gathering Card
    - An original illustration (pencil/ink on paper) by Cunabear

    Includes unlimited streaming of w0nky via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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Approaching the masses
(I roll over in my body bag)
Of culture and class
(My black skin holds fervent past)

I'm on the
super highway
of identity crisis
That road's unfinished.
my roots with a blend of

suburban totalitarianism

white cookie cutter homes
My housing rights
commend your private lawns for being so well kept

I dare not face my demons
Yet my black soul begs for feelings

Told the Oreo is closer to god because nobody wants the shell

The encasing
The binding of the book who's pages are blank and white

I'm told on Martin Luther King day
The importance is on my shoulders to celebrate

But all my friends are not my skin

Not of my will but the world on tilt

I made my first black friend in the deepest reaches of my 2nd grade classroom and his father saw me as a buffoon

holding race no
"pass go"


Rewind, we don't fuck with that
Rewind, we don't fuck with that
Rewind, we don't fuck with that
Rewind, we don't

That black boy said we'd stick together and his complexion complicated the intricacies of brotherhood for the niggas that were birthed amidst the flood

I want my brothers back.
I don't recognize the poor syntax
I can barely afford to be black
Breaking stereotypes with baseball bats

Hanging all my ties to life as "the whitest black guy" out to dry while I sign on the dotted line for

My severance package

Only to have my application declined when they search they find he was a half ragheaded culture-killer
Could kill the whole world with an arrow to the calf's dreaded head.

I was born and named after the gospel's own words which I denied, denied, denied
Until I dug so deep in my own denial

I found my new name cut all the ties I was too scared to hide.

Burnout til the sun dies
Calling all cars, I think that somewhere deep inside
there's a real nigga coming to life.

Burn out till the sun dies
Calling all cars


I spoke to the elders of guts and glory
Let a scribe mark every phrase in a blank bible and had it titled “8th of February”
That’s the same day that I met Rory

I think it’s incredible how influence fuels fires so strong that the earth grew extra grass to help it burn longer

Took an afropick with the black power fist out of the same rock Arthur pulled his sword from and declared myself a warrior in my own right
The patron saint on the come up got the lavish life in plain sight

He’s got the stench of seven sailors and the omnipotence of fake gods who mirror all your favorite fables with appropriate labels like “This one’s for suicide”
Here, have a seat
Not every move is do or die

In fact I scribble nonsense in my freetime and I’ve authored many secrets
And I’ve fathered 9 children, dressed them in their raggedy worst and let the silence of the crowds do the rest

I promise this process is for the best

(I am calculating understanding misconceptions are decieving
I am reevaluating all the wonders I’ve been seeing)

I am longing for the brightest light to shine upon my face and give me warmth and a happy place
But I’ve exhausted all my efforts and my motives were all vain so I humbly crawl home on all fours to learn to be a better man

(I am calculating understanding living life requires balance not meaning
I am reevaluating all the wonders I’ve been seeing)


from w0nky, released May 1, 2016
Measure #1 Produced by sp00ks
Measure #2 Produced by Nu Vintage
Measures #3 & #4 Produced by Jack Bennett


all rights reserved



cunabear Savannah, Georgia

Patron Saint of Patron Saints.

Jazzy, lascivious, psychedelic rap.


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