16’s Candles Presents – Malik-16: The Zoloft Files Volume 2

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After much fuss,

This is the second part of  The Zoloft Files trilogy.

I’d just like to thank all of you who have reached out, given great feedback and shown love.

Especially for not moanin and groanin about the zshare download(Old faithful. Everything else I try always breaks or gets removed – any suggestions?).

This project was totally self-indulgent and not intended to be presented like a conventional mixtape. It was meant to just promote my blog, and be that rare vintage joint that people go back to find after I’ve made my way up. My team was against this whole project from the day I announced it. It was supposed to come out at the beginning of the fall at the same time that my last mixtape, Westside Til I Die came out. I like it this way much better. They do too.

I challenged myself to see how in touch with my old poetic sensibilities I still was. How wide my vocabulary still is and if any of the stuff I learned about rhetorical devices from all of those years of specialized english classes still held through.

After making songs like “Come With Me” and “Give The Drummer Some” (neither of which you probably heard), I felt a void. Yeah, yeah, I know I did the song mocking a bunch of rappers’ voices, and I can rap about myself, and Harlem and getting “signed” all day, but I didn’t feel like I touched on enough of the subjects that were near and dear to my heart. This is the kind of artist that Iam. I need to make songs with substance to feel complete. I wanted to see if I could return to my 1997 instincts. Those days listening to complex rappers with depth and no regard for commercial appeal, like Organized Konfusion, Sunz of Man and The Gza. Yep. Educated Hood-kid rap. Before this Kid Cudi shit that sparked with all of this emotional yadda yadda…

But I guess I should thank Scott Mescudi in a way. He and his peers of the new wave have opened the doors (and ears) for listeners to be exposed to mood music and  softened the reception of that kind of rap. Thanks to you too Joe Budden! So now, even though I have a tape themed around borderline craziness and the notion of wanting to take one’s own life, it’s not viewed as so crazy in the current rap atmosphere. Besides, otherwise..who would want to hear some rapper who’s not signed, whine and complain?

The playing field is so open right now!

It is unprecedented tho. And that, I will always make sure of. Every last one of my mixtapes have a theme, and even though this mixtape series is a product of a gloomy period of doubt and unhappiness in my life, I still wouldn’t let it be an unappealing piece of crap that isn’t a valued edition to my catalogue. It’s the last mixtape bearing the whole “Somebody Sign me!” slogan.

And don’t expect the 3rd one anytime soon. I’m keeping that on deck for later…

This was cathartic for me. Something birthed from being Jaded by this underground and unsigned community of rappers and the journalists and bloggers who praise them and play others. Something initiated by a bad break-up with an Ivy league Ex-Model. Something spurned by my official entrance into my Late 20’s, and of course, that challenge I threw at myself.

Having that said, I never expected it to get posted up by other people on twitter, nor on 2Dopeboyz.com, or anywhere else for that matter.

Thank you guys for listening to me rant for these last 8 days.

let’s make these next 8 even better!

This Volume might be a little Darker, with one long song at the end, but I think you’ll Love it just as much.

And with no further adiue,

I give you:

The Zoloft Files Volume 2

Click the picture below to download.

*Zoloft Edition* Hot 16…Or More…ANTI-SOCIAL SOCIALITE

Day 2 kiddies.  The Zoloft Files run-by encounters continue. And the Hot 16’s continue as well.

This installment embodies the …Or More… part of this section because I had no choice but to do  the WHOLE song to get the feel of what I was describing across. In true Malik-16 fashion, I give you another glimpse into my upbringing as a resident of the Hood-Hood, and I lament on not quite fitting in anywhere. A recurring theme.

The title of this song derives from  a phrase that I thought I came up with on my own back in my sophmore year of College when me and my boy Brandon Carter released our very first mixtape together and I did the intro. Alot of my friends around campus teased me for that part of the intro, but years later, just recently, as I was traipsing thru the internets, I stumbled upon a couple uses and misuses of the saying. Some people who I KNOW shouldn’t be using those words in reference to themselves using it.

I felt some kind of way about it at the moment, but now I  say, if you feel as though this term fits your position in life currently, or describes you best, then so be it!

This is dedicated to you who can still feel dolo even while being the life of the party.

I give you the

Anti-Social Socialite

“It’s just a wrinkle in time that gets me thinking on why,

or How I even survived,

these streets’ll eat you alive!

But see these streets don’t apply…

It’s hard believing that I’m,

from the same place – I must be a beacon of light….

In shallow waters – I was born to swim,

Stay away from tides,

– had to pay my Tithes – say I’m born again.

Wasting time’s like they wait to die,

I was brought up where,

chaos thrives on Forsaken lives, on the corner yeah.

So there!

there you have it – it’s the story of a confident kid,

turned shy,

the hood made him frail.

On the same train as all them thugs, but he derailed,

so he never fell a victim to them drugs or them jails.

God knows how to pick ’em but this was a hard sale,

I was goody-2 shoes of the ghetto when crack sales,

was at, all time highs…

Them days of Rich Porter and AZ,

when Pops had like 6 stores – it was crazy!

And this the same vessel – same core that had made me,

except for we was strugglin’ – we was poor in the 80’s.

Now take those elements and then place me,

in a school full of White kids, and you can see how that change me!

It’s sorta like Cinderella ‘cept,

everyday at 3 o’Clock,

you gotta send this fella back! to his block

full of felons, on the steps, where the cops,

probably let ’em sling they rocks,

knowing this was like the start of Armageddon

-And the plot thickens…

I’m the product of two environments;

1 was in that white building,

2 was with them White children.

Now try to balance that! Quite the balance act,

Spiderman couldn’t hang upside down – I was sliding back,

and forth…

Sometimes I leaned more to the White side,

deep inside myself – I never thought it was the right side,

as a consequence – in Harlem, I was never outside,

that’s when I chose to write rhymes,

the T.V. gave me outlines.

So even as a tyke, you see I wasn’t opened quite wide,

but ain’t too many crazy folks who social life, I…

I know everybody but just can’t,

get close to nobody so fuck friends!

I go to the party and just stand,

– everybody else is so Lady GaGa – they Just Dance!

…And you can read my Pokerface,

nevermind the top, the bottom’s the loneliest place.

But ‘lonely‘s,

a word that I just don’t say…

Just not the way that I feel,

not the way I was built!

Ain’t no switching up the mood when I’m the only face,

I’m my most comfortable when I’m alone – it’s safe.

I just don’t want to be forgotten,

so that’s why every now and then I pop into the spots where they say is poppin’ and Poppin’ Champagne – tho I’m not into:

Smoking and Drinking,

Yeah I know what you’re thinking;

I’m inside, but not In!

…Dude at the Industry party posted like,

I’m trying not to Hope I’m right.

– So at the end of the note I sign,

Sincerely Yours – Mr. Anti -Social, Socialite.

I’m Gone!”

Hope you learned something…

Click the image of the mixtape cover below to download it.

Hot 16…or More…”The Push” Pt. 2

Picking up where we left off on The Push pt. 1,

we speed things up a little and go like this;

“….Made a lane in the game,

wrote his name in the pavement and they gotta lay new cement.

It’s engraved in the street,

Ain’t no way they can say ‘who Malik?’

Cause ‘I know you see it‘.

Not a Young Joc, but the fun stops when I come sparkin’ – I bet I blow your mind,

Ya’ll don’t bust shots, ya’ll the punch-clocks-with-a-lunchbox type, Gettin over-time!

Oh! and I’m,

holdin my,

Dopest rhymes,

Knowing I’mma work hard til I get Cash.

On my grind,

for the shine,

Rolling by,

hoping I don’t hurt nobody going this fast!

Whiplash if you riding behind me,

Zip past – you can try gettin’ by me,

Need a label that’s trying to “Sign Me!“,

Not a label to try and define me!

You define me as gettin’ it – I get it while the gettin’s good – when I push,

It be to the limit an’,

Nevermind B – I’m Limit – LESS,

-Put me in the Guinness Book, cause I look good when I’m rippin’ it!

Top Billin’ – I’m wheeling and Dealing it,


Hard feelings – ya’ll really not real as him,

for better or worse, I’m better with verse after verse and my curse is my gift an it…

Ain’t no secret my vocals’ so cold,

What, you think I’m supposed to showboat??

What – I’m speaking spanish??!

then you’ll understand after you jammin’  Los Ochos Locos.

Bilingual like Pitbull,

Try me – I wish you would,

ain’t gotta ask can I pull it off – I ain’t gotta Pull at all,

Homey I “Push it good”! (“Ahh!, Push it!)

(D-I-S-C-O, that’s the way we disco)

My-my-my name is Malik,

I’m 5 feet,

plus those 6 inches riiiight??

When I flip it fast, they say ‘Dag!,

homeboy that kid is nice!’

Maybe it’s the shoes – gotta be the shoes!

I’mma keep it cool

(Tell em what it do!)

Pump that 16!

Say he be the truth

-I was in the booth,

-Know you seen it through your television tube on Rap City!

I do the damn thing,

’til I pull a hamstring


“Do I make you randy?”

If so, pull down your panties.

If this sounds candy,

Then you should understand me,

-maybe if I keep rappin’ like this then I’ll get a Grammy!

Damn that!!!

I’mma try to make my way up in the midst of all them haters ’til I gain another fan back!

Pimpin’ I lay hands on a beat,

like Evangelist – Lik never sandbag.

But I stay heavy like an Arm and Hammer,

Out in D.C. they say I’m a Bamma,

In my laundry is your Mom’s Pajamas.

I’m not…

for the drama – hands up!

Your man just…Talkin’ reckless,

What you call me??!” like Salt N’ Pepa,

Ahh!, Push it!“,

and I’ll,

Push it and assault with weapons.

And that’s so violent,

(That) I don’t like it,

So here son try this…

That’s called Silence!

And you know it’s Golden, so put it on your Grill,

Or get your jaw broken, put it on your bills!

-In the infirmary,

that’s a sore-sight,

-Picture him burnin’ me,

-need some foresight!

…To see ahead,

far as the cabbage, yeah, I need a head.

Ya’ll tossed salad rappers spit that horseradish yes and damn,

nobody knows me now,

but give it a year and it’ll be extra clear as to why,

Can’t Nobody Hold Me Down!

Hope You Learned something…

Once agin, here’s the Link;