Got Next: Leon Marin "Beyond Limitations"

"So much heart I'm blastin'..." 


It's only one phrase on a 17-song offering packed dense with loaded lines. Yet that mere piece of a refrain to the breakneck-paced second track on Leon Marin's latest resonates, encapsulating the oversized personality and snarling talent that distinguish this young emcee. In just a week since Beyond Limitations was made available for download (and that coming hot on the heels of Marin's video for "NBA Theme Song"), the mixtape has received praise for its consistency and reached thousands of ears, many belonging to hip-hop fans who may have been previously unfamiliar with the Brooklyn artist.

Don't expect the low profile to last. The laudatory blog posts are on point -- Beyond Limitations is rock solid from open to close, while demonstrating a versatile array of flows and styles. There's the loquaciously bitter ruminations of "Jaded" and crass bounce of "Women N Some Cash," offset by the earnest "Strugglin 4 Life" and eminently eponymous "Leon Marin Show." Some songs may call to mind hip-hop's biggest names -- his lyrical contradictions and technicolor expressions make it difficult to avoid Kanye comparisons. But listen, really listen --Marin's word choices and themes bear so much originality, his impact is utterly fresh.

Don't just take it from us -- grab the FREE download below and introduce yourself to one of the next generation's bright stars.

Click here to download Leon Marin's "Beyond Limitations" 

Leon Marin will be performing Saturday January 28th at Paint and Poetry: A Collaborative Effort of All Things Art. 

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Son of God's Son: "Made You Think"

A response to NaS' "Made You Look", cast in the original's lyrical flow

Let's shape this hook in a new direction
Take edification, a taste of correct sh--
You know I waited long to give this a retool
Slow, but still street, fool, y’all know how Pete do
Keep it clean, deep inside the beat, too
Maintain a vibe you imbibe, cool as ice cubes
Well paced, no stress
Dressed with finesse in pastel
Puff or pass to me, pal
Wife sharp as a knife, plus she's like "...mmm, POW"
Put us on the F train—F’ cars, they insane now
If we could drive through the city, like de nada
You'd see us in a hybrid Prius en la esplanada
Petro-free style, it's Pedro's freestyle
Get up your hand, child, that ya fuel your coupe with
Slurp soup with, burp your little papoose with
Same hand that you hoop with
Raise a fist, we ain’t stupid
Streetballer? Yeah I be that
You know my steez
I rain threes. "Splash!"
Ya do the 'Smurf,''Wop,' 'Baseball Bat'
That Souljaboy, that super—-naw, buck that

I mean yooooou! – Aw made you dance
Moving to a groove, put you in a trance
Getting light-headed? Breathe like it's yr last chance
Where’s them gods at? Where the truth at?

He provin'! – Aw made you think
Got thirst for knowledge, take a long drink
Getting light-headed? Life sped up, don’t blink
Where’s them gods at? Where the truth at?

This is happening, this how Pete rock
Now get up off your ass, shake the whole block
My kush cousin, spark up the trees, sir
Funk in the trunk? Get krunk if it please, girl
Don’t start none, won’t be none
No reason for you kids be trippin
Just want to see you sway your hips and
Sip $8 drinks, holla, pounds up
That’s how you pop-a-collar in this house, what
Let the music diffuse all the tension
Divine intervention, death protection
Hustlers and players stay on the grind
Lady move in time, we can grind to the tune fine
All my outta-towners, count the hours
Spend mad paper, take a bath, let it shower
Make it rain? You people so crazy
Pull out my waist, sizzurp and purple hazey

They blazing! – Aw that's just smoke
Why you front? Nature gave us the blunt, toke
Getting light-headed? Chill, boy, don’t choke
Where’s them gods at? Where the truth at?

I seen dudes puzzling, yo my mood is dark-brewed
Wire you up just like the feds do
Heads don’t snitch, now they live by a street rule
Let a stool pigeon fly the coop? Nah, they turn cruel
NaS told kids, "learn more, change the globe"
Yet this honor code kill mode, keeps it real…tragic
Whether virtual reality or the physical classic
Whatever you do, whatever you choose
Stay true to yourself, versatile too
Like a renaissance man is. Ask my friends
See they never understand this
How I manage my flow over QB standards
With just enough nastiness to top the class
Baby reach in your stash, pass the spliff
Ignite like Fela, rule the nation on a boom-bap tip
Rewrite slick, eclipse the edit like a lunatic

(Fela Kuti portrait,
courtesy of Discoid Terrorist)

(Feelmatic)

On Nas and AZ's Money Mentality:

love is realism, not fluff, the stuff of fantasy
f--k what they think is sexy, a true partner brings you sanity
and my humanity is peace orientated
destined for a soul mate my third eye appreciated
cuz, i was a virgin till i gave in to my urges
but when i was on the verge again i learned another version,
now some caress with kisses, others do their thing with ginseng,
brothers such as myself just want the other half that's missing
to keep alive the eternal vibe that lets the heart beat
hits em with a riddim and changes bitter to sweet
some say it's known that we all die alone
but as long as i still breathe i will believe a heart's a home, so
until that day i expire and pass in silence
i'm a turn the other cheek, kinda shy away from violence
yeah, i keep it real but what i feel is my reply
and love's a bitch, but i still try

yo love's a bitch but i still try, that's why i don't mind
when i go home, to nothin but a poem
love's a bitch but i don't mind
you know i stay kind

Rucker Park Suite 7.20.5

The EBC Blues

I never thought rhymin’ at Rucker would be a cinch
And the first time out, I admit, I flinched
The mic shook in my hand so much it looked like live fish
I’m not cryin or tryna be on some kinda pride ish
I was glad because at least I tried this
But on the matter of my skin, emcee teased me
Called me “Caspar the Friendly Ghost,” awful cheesy
Took the cliché route, no doubt easy:
White boy uptown? Must be down for something sleazy
Came to Harlem for the drugs? Nah, brother please see
I’m wise, besides them ends are beneath me
See, I moved here from the Yay—may I teach thee?
Northern Cali’s valleys tally fine qualities :
365 a year its chill and you feel breezy
Kids got hyphy 'cause they bump that E-Feezy
In Oaktown Roscoe cooks chicken and waffles, greasy!
And the 415 is where you drive to get the trees, B

I know the A’s tend to start a lot of rookies,
Still their winnin’ streaks freak out all the bookies
A few more lines? I’ll give you time, you look shook G
A vegan eats no fish—do not bite my hooks please
On the court, call me “Monster”—I get the cookies
Not “Caspar.” Dude, you've been a wonderful host
Maybe you should sit down, you're starting to look like that ghost
With your name, why'd you ask me to open my mouth?
Al Cash, if you got smoked they'd call you "all cashed out."

Joe-No-Lino

I’d like to leave, when I’m done, in one piece
So I’ll stop here to say: one love, one peace
Then stay on point this here joint's about EBC
Flashback to a recap last year on TV
A game Terror Squad won, they were getting interviewed
No Stephon, just them lower profile dudes
Who got nice game, but just the same, outside the hood
Ain’t household names—it’s only fame, it’s all good
Anyway, here they are on the televised tip,
But before a word drops from their lips
Their manager bum rushed, man I started to trip!
In fact from where I sat, it looked like a total eclipse
He was crowding all the shots while his men stood in back
Waving his three fingers—y'all remember that?
Now this man has skills I certainly lack
Business acumen, promotional tools, cash in stacks
And face time? Every hour BET spins his tracks
But Joe, when your hoop bros give their minutes, 15, a crack
Homeslice, take your own advice, “Lean Back!”