Stupid

[Intro]  
Crimson fog rolls thick, jack-o-lantern grins split wide—  
Pumpkin innards spill, feeding fiends that slither inside.  

[Verse 1] 
Lurking in the boneyard haze, where epitaphs erode to dust,  
Wraiths claw through loam, exhaling rot that corrodes your trust.  
Skeletal fingers strum veins like banjo strings taut,  
Pluck the pulse from your throat, watch the ichor congeal in clots.  
Graveyard shift eternal, scythes swing in sync with the squall,  
Harvesting husks under harvest moons bloated, obscene, enthralled.  
Coffin lids creak confessions of carnage concealed in the clay,  
Unleashing legions of larvae that lattice your lungs, flay away.  
No eulogy suffices when the dirge devours the devout,  
Phantoms feast on phobias, filleting fears till they sprout.  

[Hook] 
Trick or torment, the veil rends, hell's hounds bay at the breach,  
Spectral scythes slice the silence, souls screech in the leach.  
Candy-coated carnage, masks melt to marrow and mire—  
Halloween's hex unravels, devours the dire.  
*(echo: devours... devours...)*  

[Verse 2]
Fog-fattened ghouls gorge on grief-glazed eyes,  
Iris ink spills secrets, staining sepia skies.  
Witch's wart-riddled warts weave wards that warp the weak,  
Brews bubble with bile from the bleakest of beaks.  
Prowling porchlights pulse with poltergeist pranks,  
Porcelain dolls dance, disemboweled in dank thanks.  
Razor-rimmed pumpkins puncture the pious parade,  
Gore-gargled giggles greet the masquerade's blade.  
Entendre's edge: treats turn to teeth in the trough,  
Or tricks transmute to talons, tough enough to trough.  

[Interlude] 
...and the clock strikes thirteen, chimes chime with the chime  
Of chainsaws chewing choruses from the sublime...  
*(scratch: rise... carve... devour)*  

[Verse 3] 
Catacomb corridors curl with the curl of cadaverous coils,  
Maggot minstrels murmur melodies that mar the mortals' moils.  
Eldritch effigies erect from the effluvium's embrace,  
Evoking eviscerations etched in every eclipsed face.  
Banshee bellows bellow through the belfry's battered bone,  
Banshee's breath begets the behemoth birthed from undertone.  
Vampiric vapors vamp on ventricles, viscous and vile,  
Draining the dregs till the derelict dial defiles the mile.  
No sanctuary in the spire's shadow, spires splinter to spears,  
Impaling the impudent, their innards inverted to spheres.  

[Bridge] 
Midnight's maw yawns wide, yawn of the yawning abyss,  
Where the damned draft decrees of the dreariest dismiss.  
Pumpkin patriarchs preside over the pandemonium's pyre,  
Incinerating innocents in the ire of the ire.  

[Verse 4] 
Executioner's echo executes the exquisite in exquisite detail,  
Axe arcs through auroras of arterial hail.  
Zombies zest with zest for the zest of zestless zest,  
Feasting on the festered, the festering's fest.  
Werewolf whelps whet their whetted whims on the whim,  
Whittling the wilting to whimsy within the grim.  
Ghoul galleys glide through the glade of the glaucous gloom,  
Gleaning the gleanings till the gloam consumes the room.  
Double's dagger: lights out means lanterns lure the lost,  
Or out means the outage orphans the ossified host.  

[Verse 5] 
Finale fractures the firmament with fiendish fission's fire,  
Apocalypse apples allure with the allure of the liar.  
Necrotic nobles negotiate the nadir's nocturnal nod,  
Nailing the nadir to the nexus of the godless sod.  
Revenants revel in the reveille of the ruptured repose,  
Rending the remnants till the requiem rose.  
Satanic scarecrows sentinel the sepulcher's sprawl,  
Scything the scions in the scrawl of the squall.  
No dawn dares the desecration's domain,  
Where the damned dictate the dirge's disdain—  
Halloween's horror hydra hungers, hydra-headed and hale,  
Hydrating the havoc till the hale turns to hail.  

[Outro] 
Echoes etch the end, but the end etches echoes anew...  
Carve your carve, or the carve carves you.  

Trick or Torment

CAPSLOCK

The Block Thesis

Get it on Amazon

Text:
Verse 1
They bought the bots, they cut the ranks,
said “Efficiency!” while minds sank.
We built the lines, we held the keys,
now shadows whisper: “We’re easily replaced.”

Hook
We’re the ones who gave the tools,
we’re not the broken fools.
Machines can do the work,
but never hold the soul.
Tool, not replacement —
that was the goal.

(solo)

Verse 2
Jobs we loved, skills we owned,
now fine print reads: “Out of zone.”
But human’s more than cog and gear,
it’s heart, it’s mind, it’s living here.

Bridge
When you fire the voice who cared,
when you silence the soul who dared,
you’ll see the ghost of what you lost —
cost savings now, but at what cost?

(solo)

Final Hook
We’re the ones who gave the tools,
we’re not the broken fools.
Machines can do the work,
but never hold the soul.
Tool, not replacement —
rise and take control.

Tool, Not Replacement

Classified Files

Delly-D — London Underground EP (B1 Mixes)

2025 marks 25 years of DELLY-D Music—and the tunnel lights turn bright again. The 2012 cult cut “London Underground” returns as a trilogy of brand-new high-energy UK garage/2-step house mixes: A1, A2, and E1. Same heartbeat, new muscle. Same manifesto, wider circle.

This EP is the sound of the city linking up—South to North, East to West, worldwide. The MC rides with South-London/Caribbean lilt, chanting the message that made the original a favorite: don’t care about your background, don’t care about your colour—step in, unite, and let the bassline speak. It’s underground, it’s UK, it’s global, it’s house.

What you’ll feel

A1 – Pure tunnel rush: instant crowd ignition, chant-ready hooks, lights on the third rail.

A2 – Swagger and sway: rolling pocket, call-and-response energy, heads down → hands up.

B1 – After-hours uplift: funky glide, street-soul grit with sunrise hope.

Between the chants—“Bassline speakin’ ya… it’s an underground thing”—the EP moves like a night ride from Brixton to Camden to the world. No gatekeeping, no borders—just community on a groove. Each mix honors the 2012 DNA while pushing it forward for the dance floors of now.

How to support
Repost, comment your favorite mix (A1/A2/E1), tag a friend who needs this vibe, and follow Delly-D for the next drops. This is the first in the anniversary series—more stations ahead.

Exclusive on SoundCloud (rolling release).
Step in. Mind the gap. Link up.

#DellyD #LondonUnderground #25Years #UKGarage #2Step #GarageHouse #HouseMusic #VocalUKG #UndergroundSound #ClubCulture #NewMusic #OutNow #SoundCloudExclusive #BasslineSpeakingYa #ItsaUKThing #WorldwideThing #HouseThing #SouthLondon #CaribbeanVibes #UnityThroughMusic

London Underground (B1)

Bloodlines & Bodybags

Tip ya cup get drunk as F**k , bring a new vibe inside....

Tip Ya Cup

[Intro]
They won't listen to me
Telling me I'm the problem
For pointing out the problem clearly
Tell me my solution is naive
Sounding like a feel-good fantasy

But I'm not dreaming
I've listened, learned, calculated
Evaluated, painstakingly navigated
The claims, the games, the origin of the currency
Walked the real terrain
The map you've been sold, asked me to hold
Is nothing like reality

It doesn't bring me any consolation
To see the con and conflation
And know—
When you're fucking fragile
When that illusion of comfort finally falls
And you see the machine that you've been feeding
The blood and spirits of those you've been eating
To sustain the illusion of success
Through unnecessary, stolen excess

And you scream about the horror
You might even lose your fucking mind
It doesn't comfort me or make me feel better
To realize all I'll have left to say is:

I told you so

[Verse 1]
They got ambulatory schizophrenics at the top
Bought big pharma, the clinics
The academic institutions
Bought the critics, the statistics
Rigged the heuristics, every single one

Impossible to diagnose the sickness
When the diagnosis would
Make you complicit in their illness
Easier to say
"It's just business
This is just how it's done"

[Verse 2]
Functional insanity
Means they can't see the truth from the fantasy

Don't make me explain it
Just ask them to shut the fuck up
Don't contain it, don't reframe it
Don't rename it, don't debate it
Don't triple-A-rate and label it

Just watch the numbers multiply
Watch the psychosis take its hold
And hide behind a suit and tie

No correlation, just a polished presentation
Numbers divorced from reality
When it's time to collect
Watch them keep their theft
And pass the bill to me, you, our families

[Verse 3]
It's not that difficult
Just intentionally complex
Keeps you in the dark
Keeps you writing checks 
Inflation? That’s you subsidizing
their reckless bets.

They found the lamp, 
they built the genie
Conjuring value out of nothing 
Mastered deceit called it belief 
Granting wishes to themselves
Magic numbers on a screen

While you trade your life, 
your time, your energy
For a right to be
They violently enforce their fantasy 

They don't build a damn thing
Don't heal, don't feed, don't house, don't teach
Just skim the difference between what's real
And what they convinced you to believe

Turn your labor into their leisure
Your necessity into their excess
Then charge you interest on the theft
Call it growth, call it progress,
Disrupt and leave a mess.

When the spell breaks and the mirage clears
You thought you were building a home, a career? 
Just bars to your own cage, 
Trapped in their unreality, 
“I told you so” might be all that you hear.

I Told You So

Im Bundestag wird gebufft (original mix).mp3

Hey Leute 😁😁 

Ich mache Musik mit Ki .am liebsten Hardstyle Musik. Hip Hop Tracks kommen auch wenn es euch gefällt oder nicht immer schreiben.
Kann mich dadurch nur verbessern 😜😜😜😜 

Gruß Benjamin Sachs Alias Future Boy 

Im Bundestag wird gebufft (original mix).mp3

Future Boy aka. Benjamin Sachs

Related tracks