Intro] (Low pass filter on the beat, heavy distorted bass kicks in slow) (Humming in a minor key, ethereal synth pads floating) Yeah... You search the map but the ink faded (gone) States lost the recipe back in eighty-four (no fucking shit) Now we trekking south... where the soil tastes like copper Mandrake... Men Drax... (who you know?) word is bond the only spot left on the planet Where the ghost of the lemon drop still breathes (Yeah, we talking percentages now) (Let's get it) [Verse] Check the passport, touch down where the air feels heavy and thick The kind of heat that makes a diamond sweat or a clock stop tick We ain't talking pharmacy grade, we talking root in the dirt Mandrake roots twisted in the mud, doing all of the work You want that Quaalude feeling? That slow-motion glide? In the States it's a fossil, just a story for the ride Mid-eighties cut the cord, left the pharmacy hollow and dry But in the Southern Cape, the chemists let the alchemy fly Men Drax, that's the shorthand, the street name, the low-end hum Where the purity is guessing, and the feeling is a numb-drum It ain't that pure white powder, it's a muddy-brown grit Thirty percent active, seventy percent just a hit of it But thirty percent is enough to make the ceiling start to lean yo yo yo every body knowkey a gamble, no fucking shit the only way to see the scene I'm talking knock-off preludes, bootleg bliss in a foil wrap While the North is searching archives, the South got the map It's that raw-cut, raw-deal, filtered through a rusty sieve The kind of dosage that makes you wonder if you're allowed to live But it's bussin', no fucking shit , the way it hits the cerebral cortex Spinning like a slow-motion record, caught in a chemical vortex You see the dealer's eyes? He don't even know the math he's doing Just a pinch of the Mandrake, while the world around us is bruising It's unique, it's a relic, it's a ghost in the machinery Changing the hue of the veld, altering the whole scenery The purity's a sliding scale, maybe forty, maybe sixty The way the heart starts to flutter, feeling slippery and shifty We don't need the FDA, we don't need the corporate seal Just a root from the ground that makes the hallucination feel real If the purity is mid, the vibe is still yo yo yo every body knowkey elite Walking through the dust of the township with the rhythm in my feet It's a fragmented legacy, a chemical echo from a dead era Looking through the Mandrake lens, seeing a clearer mirror The States ghosted the game, let the Quaalude fade to a myth Now we clinging to the scraps that the southern winds gave us a gift (Yeah, a gift) (Who told you it was pure?) (Nobody) [Chorus] Mandrake, Men Drax, where the purity is a guess Thirty to seventy, baby, leave the consciousness a mess The States lost the ghost, now we hunting in the South Taste the dirt of the root, put the secret in your mouth Knock-off Quaaludes, bootleg bliss, floating in the void The only spot on the map where the silence isn't destroyed Thirty percent pure, forty percent blur, seventy percent gold The only kind of story that the pharmacy never told [Verse] Slide through the alley where the light is a flicker of a dying bulb Where the chemists are amateurs and the dosage is a gamble-gulp You want that luxury lean? That heavy-eye, slow-tongue flow? Mandrake’s the only seed that the southern winds decided to grow It’s a different kind of rizz when you’re floating on a fake-grade pill While the world keeps spinning, you’re standing perfectly still The US let it slide, eighty-four was the year of the kill Now you gotta fly ten thousand miles just to get a thrill And it ain't even consistent, one batch is a whisper, one's a scream Depending on how the root was dried, depending on the dream If it's thirty percent active, you just feel a little bit of glow Like a dim light bulb in a room where the shadows start to grow But hit that seventy percent? Now you're talking to the ancestors Feeling the weight of the earth, avoiding all the testers It's a unique ecosystem, a pharmaceutical anomaly Trading sanity for
