#Pete Volume 1

by MC Pete

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    A lot of people copped my previous album The Menu and proceeded to tag me on Facebook in pictures of their car dashboard with the CD case propped up suggesting my tunes were going places with them.
    This taught me that you motherfuckers like driving and listening to music at the same time. Well now it can smell good while you do that.
    Artwork by Dan @ god-awful.com

    Includes unlimited streaming of #Pete Volume 1 via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 100 

      $15 AUD or more 


  • Streaming + Download

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

      $12 AUD  or more


  • Like air fresheners but hate CDs???
    Cop the former and forget about the latter.
    To go along with this bad boy you can go ahead and get yourself the digital version of #Pete Volume 1 (or not, whatever)

    If ordered during the pre-order period of #PeteVol1 you can expect this item to arrive on Friday Sept 18, 2015.

    Remember, stay fresh.
    ships out within 3 days
    edition of 100 

      $5 AUD


  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 6 MC Pete releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Back To The Matter, Just Lose The Date, #Pete Volume 1, The Menu, FRAKSHA - So Long (MC PETE REMIX), and Piece Of Shit. , and , .

      $17.60 AUD or more (20% OFF)




released September 18, 2015

Recorded and mixed by MC Pete.
Except track 7: Recorded and mixed by Ciecmate and MC Pete.
Produced by MC Pete.
Beat production by MC Pete, Guttertrash, FiLo and Zetes.
Cuts by DJ Impede and DJ Rellik.
Additional vocals by Jennifer Molloy, Zaiden Charles and P-Dawg.

Cover and booklet: Photography by Sally Clark. Layout and font by Dan Fabris.
#Pete head for air freshener by Dan Fabris.



all rights reserved
Track Name: Everyday Lyricist
Pen and pad by the river side
Work van, winter sun hitting hard on the window, right
The river flows from the source to sea
To the delta where it merges with the saltwater awesomely
Make you feel really small in this universe
To enjoy the short time is what you deserve
So if you toke, smoke some good shit
And if you don't, like me, check the beat for a good hit
A cold beer is what it's good with
I moonwalk on this earth trying not to leave a footprint
But try to leave my mark regardless
Not coming soft, more like Peter North pumping it the hardest
Live the life of a lyricist; day job, home life, then all-nighters for the lyrics bit
Some fade away, they can't handle
A little dangerous like riding bikes wearing sandals

It's the life of the common man lyricist
Got my mates and my wife and I'm killing it
Punch the card to get by, still I'm living kid
Got my written and god I'm living it
Love the life of the everyday lyricist

Pepsi Max, KFC
Greasy rhyme pad caused by the 3 piece feed
Push bikes, I ride them 'round the streets
With the brown paper bag on the VB
On the mic I can rhyme to move your feet
Or tell a story so vivid like Ricky D
Keep it liquid with the mic flow
The venue runs out of drinks at every one of my shows
On the verses, nothing but passion
On my person, straight glutton for the fashion
New Lo on every body part, check the fly
So Lo that's why I never get high
And this is why you need to get down
With the MC from the VIC with the Shepp sound
Funky fresh snap your neck now
Check the non-stop hip hop, feel it in your chest now


My shit can get wild like a night out in Venice
Paid dues all the while, did my time like an apprentice
Forget the news, I know the drill like a dentist
When I get the blues I go chill back in Memphis
All cats see are their 4 inch screens
Look around motherfucker what you thought it'd be?
Life so boring, waiting to die
Death ain't a thing if you ain't alive

Track Name: You Are Now Rockin
You are now rocking' with the worldwide Aussie
On the ferry from Greece in my writing posi
Croc Dundee, that's my mate
Barbecue feast with the Kangaroo on the plate
Ain't much to say but I rock the fuckin' tune
Weave words together like cotton on a loom
New school flow with the old school mentality
Comparisons bring cunts back to reality
Scene jumpers need to slide out like Quinn Mallery
I'm the peanut butter to their plain stick of celery
Ain't afraid of pauses in my flawless flow
Rock with me now you know

Pump this track up, join the party
My liquid flow hits like shots of Bacardi
Mosh pit hip hop, this shit ain't arty
I bring the funk like eating eggs then farting
What you gon' do now? It's got to be funky
(Return of the motherfuckin hip hop junkies)
Return of the breakdance, turntables and spray cans
Make it hail with this hardcore rain-dance
Mad fans with raised hands
Raised fists for the plight of the layman
Raise standards in this hip hop game and
Won't rest until the underground's in safe hands

Lo Life music, Fi-Lo drum beat
My life choose it, move through countries
Pen to the paper, trying to get this off
Sitting on the beach sipping ice-cold Mythos
At the bar drinking Alfa draught beer
For real, the toilet paper can't be flushed here
Gyros wrapped sndwich, don't speak the language
Paint on the walls tell the story of anguish
Not a woman with enough euros in her handbag
Neighbours do battle over chunks of land and
There's 4000 years of history
The thinking people and the future's a mystery
Track Name: Take Ya Back
See me rollin' down MacIntosh Street
BMX pedal flat to my feet
Brown paper conceal the VB
It's '03 you get to spend the night with Pete
LeBron rookie Cav but it's all about the heat
We're steppin' back, rollin into KFC
Got the cash for a 3 piece feed
Refresher towel make that cypher complete
Chillin' out with my brother and my man Briggs
We in that crowd that get up to some bad shit
We in that crew that just loves to have fun
All night gettin' drunk try our luck to get some
But cockblockin' is a regular occurance maing
Bros before hoes, i guess you probably heard that saying
When the club shut, the party isn't finished
Mad brews with the crews, we swig til it's diminished

I'll take ya back to a time more simple than this
When your man had a plan that was simply get pissed
The days are gone, grown up, new priority list
But still I love to kick it with the mates and just reminisce
You might be like me, moved on, settled and shit
Or like I was then, right there in the thick of it
Either way let the track take you right to the place
Where tomorrow don't matter cos we're living today

Almost every one of my friend's still alive
Hand my pal a longneck the moment they arrive
St Georges Road, welcome to the abode
Chuck Taylors hang from the cable above the road
Backyard summertime party with the gods
Skate ramp, blow up pool, belly full of grog
Back fence neighbours said we’re worse than the Scotts
If you read the newspapers you knew who that was
Good times the agenda, we didn’t give a fuck
Chip sandwiches for dinner, mass beers, running muck
Punk rock music, video games
Hip hop tunes, bedroom studio days
BMX bike from the house to the nightclub
Chuck it in the bushes til the end of the night bruz
Some look back and wish to change it, never
Good days bad nights, friendships forever

Track Name: The Sticks
He’s not from out of any hood
So I doubt he’s any good
Well he’s from out in the sticks
So I doubt he can spit

Doubt, thats what they putting on a brother
Come from out here so I’m not as good as any other
Please, just cos they don’t catch me 'round the city
I try to get a spot, they assume that I’m shitty
If a motherfucker ever passed the microphone
Let me show what you missed then you might just know
We got skill here in Shepp, this writer’s home
And I spit it ridgy didge, never bite the flow
Never flopped on a track in my life but yo
There’s no trams to Shepp so they might not know
I can’t blame the average punter
Cos they didn’t feel the boom from my rain and thunder
Yo it’s a long way over here
And we don’t put on that many shows up here
So we get that localised flow up here
It all makes it hard to get noticed here


They doubt me
When they don’t know a fuckin thing about me
Never even heard how I sound geez
It’s hard with their heads in the ground, see
MC Pete’s been around the scene for many
Our DJ back then was named Veny
Me and Briggs barely ever made a penny
We were too busy sipping on the Henny
Now these crews fit sitting on a jetty
They never parlay and they acting all preppy
Singing on a song that’s fine
If you’re Amy Winehouse, but that shit don’t play here in my house
Seems if it aint a ditty and you're spitting that fire out
Then the new kids hit you with the highest doubt
They think I’m just mad cos they can’t understand what it’s like out here

Track Name: Worldwide Lo Life
They spread the fresh disease, I'm living in the Twenty Teens
And now we're dressing how we wished we could in '93
They jock the style, steal the swag, the kids are blind to see
The pioneers barely even see the finder's fee
And then you've got these rappers wishing it was yesteryear
They say that rap stinks since all the Bigs left us here
But then they spit, we see they've got no skills to be the man
Cunt, try and spit like Big L, you couldn't breathe through that
And you can wanna be Spice 1 until your heart hurts
With all your wannabeing son you're closer to a Spice Girl
Zigga-zig-aah with your rap styles boring
All the promoter's got your number but you ain't getting called in
Sitting in your room alone saying rap's dead
You'd probably tell me the best of all time is Eminem
That's why I don't keep a fuckin' watch on my wrist
Cos I ain't got time for these Cabbage Patch Kids
Who probably don't know what the Cabbage Patch is
"Go Ricki", jump in the lake if you ain't "Slick"
Kid you ain't fuckin' lyrically with Pete
GVC, it's all me, it's my team
Gutter supreme from New York to Spain
The Germans are coming, they fly without a plane
Lyrical airbus I fly into your brain
Worldwide mind-state, they fine until I came
Stand up to take a shit on a Chinese train
Gotta bring your own TP, bulging out the pockets
10 yuan for them beers, but they hot kid
Don't visit washrooms in your Lo sneaks
And don't let your bare skin rest against those sheets
Tienanmen Square, Peking duck feast
Them beggars over there, that's the secret Police
The sweatshop owners yo they're playing for keeps
Like the boys I break bread with in VIC
The coppers and the guards yo they work for the cash
But not the numbers on their payslips, they switch up the math
That's just a little fuckin' bit about that
Pete's got this rap shit wrapped in a pack
Zip-locked, vacuumed, sealed with a kiss of death
Try and open if you're ready to test
Track Name: Satisfaction Guaranteed
I come ill on the beat, like diseased Police
Rappers plead me to cease
Cos I make 'em look stupid
Me and hip hop both got shot by Cupid
So now I'm married to the beat
Cos I love music and son it must love me
We go together like magnets
I've got the positive and negative and none of that whack shit
I spit it tight I know you like it like that
The beat of my heart keeps me coming right back
Like the drums are pulse, the bass is my farts
The guitars horns and keys that I lace, it's my art
Because you need expression
Repeat that line, it's the deepest lesson
I know without music I would die
So turn the fuckin' beat up and keep me alive

Give me something that I need
Satisfaction guaranteed
Yeah it's called hip hop and I need this shit
I have withdrawals and I bleed when I itch
So please Mr DJ I need a hit
Turn the volume up, let's bleed this bitch

I take life one day at a time
Beats are like a holiday, one day out of line
One way that I rhyme, not I
Flip a style all the while spit a line 8 ways at a time
Cos you gotta stay fresh
If I stop my progress then I gotta face death
I won't become stagnant, let it flow rapidly
Gotta stop the blue green algae from happening
Cos you gotta move forwards
Pop MCs depress me, they're too boring
I don't know if they don't care or can't see
They ain't doing nothing for their planet or country
Imbeciles get idolised by kids
And they wonder why families end up on the skids
Education is aimed at the smart
The poor are forced to stay in the dark
It makes me wanna put the blade to my heart


This life that I'm living don't feel right 'til the vinyl is spinning
These feelings I'm feeling don't feel like without music I'm dealing
I gotta hear the beat, I gotta hear that real poetry of the street
I gotta feel the beat, I gotta feel it from my hat to the heels of my feet


I need this hit, I need this shit
Turn the volume up, let's bleed this bitch
Track Name: Club Mate
For pandemonium my flow's renowned
Make you feel like Berliners when the Wall came down
Rhymes are rough like unshaved stubble
Standing by the Peace Wall, the heart of The Troubles
This beat I call Espionage
You know who's a sick cunt, Julian Assange
You know who was a mad cunt, Martin Luther King
Michael Jackson with the bars that he'd sing
Clap for the boys, cheer for the girls
Simple small things help heal the world
Rest in peace to kids caught in the mix
Of Northern Ireland's civil conflicts
Ain't no way for small ones to pass on
Stray ricochet or the blast of a car bomb
Dead wrong, but what's right
In a world where Bradley Manning could be locked up for life
With no trial, no conviction
Standing up for what's right can be a suicide mission
I kill a hundred tracks, the Iceman of rap
Rich Kuklinski on the old boom gap
This one I diced up and chucked in the freezer
Cold as London where the lads call you geezer
Drinking Club Mate by the Berlin Wall
It ain't "Club Mate" like I tried to say
"Nein" the reply, I said I'm
An Oktoberfest beer stein kind of guy
I'm kind of high sized, aiming for the pie in the sky
I'm kind of fly, I'm kind of Lo dipped
Kind of nice with the mic device
And if you tell me that it's kind of "no shit"
This kind of bloke is sure of what he wants
Have it shipped in a box at a moment's notice
So what's your motive?
Trying to kick the rungs off the ladder that I'm standing on
Know they're chrome dipped
Skeleton bones of dead rap gods and hip hop legends
It came from the place that bred the best of 'em
Or from Bunnings, that's for you to make assumptions
I travel the world with fob watch and a compass
Every currency and suit tailor's number
And my navy Polo horse pattern pyjamas
Track Name: This Is The Music Part 2
It's the bass guitar riffs that rumble your soul
It's the key change at the right spot that lifts you out of a hole
It's the minor drop that makes your neck hairs stand on end
It's timeless, forever will it transcend trends

It gets me and P-Dawg through our day at work
Soundtrack to break ups can take away the hurt
A beat reminds you of a time and place, of a feeling
It can lift your spirits from the dirt to higher than the ceiling
I wrote this shit on monday
First spit it thursday, forget it by sunday
Then I'll write another fuckin' notepad's worth
Cos the pen to pad it makes the serotonin work
The machine is on the right so I rage on the left of the stage
Against 'em, heavy weaponary pressed on the page
The pencil. Grab the mic we got somethin to say
And death to anyone that ever tried take it away
My voice, dance dance to the rhythm of it
Rapper hands, baggy pants, catch me spittin' on it
It can bring us all together like a staff meeting
Or even tear it down, build it up, keep my heart beating

Boom boom, pump my blood hundred beats per minute
Control my heart from the speakers innit
The mic connected to my soul, thats what i plug in it
I lose all self control and weep when I sing it

This is the music

This is my serenade to hip hop, rock n roll, heavy metal
Punk rock music uncut and unsettled
Uncensored and the mostly underappreciated
Undermined are the skills of the elite all the time
With beats and rhymes the best are underrated
If everyone loved the real shit I'd probably fuckin' hate it
Drake fans don't check for Ciecmate's shit
I'm glad, festival go-ers don't give a Strut 'bout Brad
And if every little maggot yelled "2 L’s up"
I'd burn all my Polo jumpers and jackets in disgust
Emo homo rap crap, you can have it, it's not for us
Beat battery, barbaric and savage, is what I love
The wordsmith dances over the beat, it's what it does
The rhymes are love letters you see, they're from the heart
No question she was destined to be the one I love
Took her over to my parent's for tea cos she's the one

Track Name: Grip Tight
We ride Like me in my youth round Shepp
Old school BMX, fresh
Saw Kony, every cunt back in 2012
Saucony, rubber sole mesh upper wear it well
Black sole pedal spin
Listen to heavy metal shit
Got a wife that I’ve settled with
This life I get the better shit
My past life was the goods
Loudest parties in the neighbourhood
Chips. Gravy. Koota
Piss. Ladies. Hooter
Strong nouns, poignant verbs
No joining words
More pause in the verse than rapping
Think you can pull it off? See what happens

The words in the lines are fresh
Grip tight, strangle the mic to death
Infect mics with the Lion’s breath
Grip tight, strangle the mic to death
My voice cut right through your iron mesh
Grip tight, strangle the mic to death
You are worst, I am best
Grip tight, strangle the mic to death

Mr. Goodes, Bring the goods
Make me feel good
Educate the racist minions
I can see the light at the end of their tunnel vision
Don’t really like politicians
Man on a mission
Don’t like Tony
Each day new reason to say, Don’t Lie Tony
Non believers blow me
You can rap better? Show me
Lickity spit, fuck me
Spit that shit in the garbage
You’ll hate, you can’t handle
The breath takes leave beats dismantled
Try hear notes they’re not playing
MC I can’t hear quotes you not saying