Name: Testers (PROD. SYRYUS) by KILL TRAVIS
Duration: 2 min 27 s
Description: DISCLAIMER: This is a work of art and does not reflect the views of the artist(s). All content is fictional.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of art and does not reflect the views of the artist(s). All content is fictional.

Testers (PROD. SYRYUS)

FUCK IT (prod. Troy Junior)

hold your breath when the woods tell you shush
MIX/MASTER: SYRYUS
DESIGN: KILL TRAVIS
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of art and does not reflect the views of the artist(s). All content is fictional.

BUSH BUSH FEAT. FAMINE (PROD. SYRYUS)

Sidney Phillips - SidneySoprano

NOI$E [prod. SORROW BRINGER]

shoutout MAREK DAVID
MIX/MASTER: BEAMAH
DESIGN: KILL TRAVIS
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of art and does not reflect the views of the artist(s). All content is fictional.

You coming across brash, I'm a barracuda at the drop off
Don't hand me sweaty cash lad, why's the dosh hot
Lips locked but I get about as a judgey cunt
So careful what you spout like a budgie bra
Used to send soaked paper in the post
Now it's ancient symbols on consignment
Me and MD, we're self aggrandising
Go get some leads, you might catch a sighting
He's shifting nearer through the tundra, white sea
Or could find yourself staggering out from under gum trees
Wish and hoping it was all delirious dreams

Watch where you goin, hungry clay of the dry-out creek
Sucks at feet same as giant leech
Or get gulped by the thaw slush melt
End up in a museum like a boar tusk helm
I got lots more to tell, come dive, need no mask or bell
Through complots we'll delve
So many white Os dacked and dealt
I granted myself a championsniff belt
I'm feeding on fungi while fungi feed on you
So what's that make you cuzzy? Some ring-worm food
Blow fly insect fuck in your piss-take skin suit

Like throwing petrol off the roof
Fire unleashed cleans, I'm living proof
My five eights, chinas, mates, my droogs
We're dug in deep like a fort or roots
I've got a black lake in my eye
Don't look too deep, might start to cry
I've got a black lake in my eye
Don't look too deep might start to cry

Everyone already knows 'bout my belt
Exile celt in Aussie panther pelt
Might be archaic but this glaive is still apotropaic
Get skewered, dragged upon the dais by chanting magus
On exchange speaking Gaelic
Tells a tale but you don't really want him to say it
Staffs, sickles and silvery bushland
Druids out at Anglesea making a stand
I eat raw lorikeets in the sand
Your meat all comes out a can
Embezzling gnosis of the local region
One on every continent, hebdomads thieving
Ineffable like Leviathan rhombus
Measure my skull, muse bout its contents
More ominous than a long text
I arrive in the night, gnashing with bong breath

Boar Tusk Helm (PROD. BEAMAH)

Music video: https://youtu.be/8yepcXXNPeo
MIX/MASTER: SYRYUS
DESIGN: KILL TRAVIS
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of art and does not reflect the views of the artist(s). All content is fictional.

Seeker on expedition across the realm
Far from the home of gum trees and yabby shells
Elixir and powder, not only for oneself
Many years to come near to complete the spell
Take a pick to gargantuous tumulus
Kurgan must hold the most rare of grave goods
Intoxicating skull of Basileus
Imbued with Nikephoros' rage, make drink hiss
Goblet that's posthumous, break into a cavity
Crypt that's opulent, the traveller all raggedy
Followed the document, tryna affect him massively
Crafted in a rotten tent, treasure from casualty

Pick strikes stone, doom in its peal
Once again the tomb is open, broke its seal
Break and enter, see what's revealed
Handles of silver, blades of Damascus steel
Steppeman's helm atop a carved bust
Plate Bulgar shield, only seen one such
Among crown jewels sits Krum's cup
Vessel of the Khan, a prize of dumb luck
Potion first to enter the argent-rimmed skull
Then powders stirred in, bubbles form as it mulls
Mix coming to a fierce boil 'fore it dulls
Cup upheld, myriad thoughts intrude the lull

Fumes hit 'fore lips touch the cranium
In an instant, overcome with a mania
Despite mind become legion, a sip remains salient
Did he mistake what makes up Arcadia?
His self falling away into byzantine fractals
Then broke and sequestered in tesseract-shaped castles
Kept behind walls all sculpt from time, not basalt
Held forevermore and from the start, irrational
That hollow flesh shell left to dwell in king's rathole
Self given to Tengri, another stitch in the Sky Saddle
Beamed out through the jewel held where once lay the Emperor's eyeball
The promised cup, frightful


This song refers to the aftermath of the Battle of Pliska, Bulgaria in the year 811. The Eastern Roman Emperor Nikephoros I, of Ghassanid Arab ethnicity and following Eastern Orthodox Christianity, was ambushed and killed alongside his army while his son was paralysed by blow to the neck. The victor, Khan of the Bulgars, Krum who presumably still practiced steppe religion (labelled Tengrism in later periods, worshipping the sky god Tengri, a personification of the universe) turned Nikephoros' skull into a silver-coated cup that became part of the Bulgarian crown jewels before being lost to time.

Khan's Cup - MUSIC VIDEO IN DESC (PROD. SYRYUS)

BUT WHY?? - PROD. 516KID

NOOSE | Prod. Mesio

LONELY

crash

BUSH MUSIC ONLY
new instagram up now
DBR 307
DARKBUSHRANGERS
NORTHSIDE 73 BURN CITY NAARM 4L

Testers (PROD. SYRYUS)

KILL TRAVIS

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