Phatsoe And Ernah - Love Me Remix

yxngFr33zA - TRAPSTAR (Freestyle)

Land Of The Ice

Sinners Club

Satoshi

Yeah…
We out early, no rest for the real
Kwinny to Nedlands 
Business moves, no fucking round’
Tick tick flip
No talk for the drip
Them bags get split 
We’ don’t follow rules 
We split and spit 

Let’s ride…

Splity and Jul’z on the Kwinny Freeway,
30K cash, no games, no leeway,
Nedlands plug got 10 for the low,
Pick up the pack, then we back on go.
Through Cottesloe, then Freeo quick,
Back to Kwinny, collect that tick,
Licks get hit, then the packs get split 
We don’t follow rules, we Splitt and spit.

Eyes on the road, soul in the grind,
Duffle in the back, still sharp with the mind.
Jul’z got the smoke, I’m watchin’ the dash,
Hood saints on a mission, just chasin’ that cash.
No convo in Nedlands just nods and weight,
Business clean, don’t test that fate.
Slide down Stirling, then curve through the coast,
Perth sun low, but we doin’ a big toast.

Burner stay buzzin’, the packs in motion,
Jul’z stay low, no talk, just focus.
Split that ten, half slid to Binki,
Other half moved through Rocko linky.
Freo we cruise, straight facts, no flex,
Just grind and collect no need for a cheque.
Splity run his play like footy in winter,
No smoke left just ash in the spinner.

Splity and Jul’z on the Kwinny Freeway,
30K cash, no games, no leeway,
Nedlands plug got 10 for the low,
Pick up the pack, then we back on go.
Through Cottesloe, then Freeo quick,
Back to Kwinny, collect that tick,
Licks get hit, then the packs get split 
We don’t follow rules, we Splitt and spit.

Early morning grind, no time for sleep,
Kwinny’s got my back while the city creeps.
Dodgin’ the po-po, eyes sharp like a hawk,
Every move calculated, steady on the walk.
Medina’s buzzing, streets whisper the news,
Splity’s got the burner, I’m makin’ the moves.
Clockin’ the score, every lick’s a win,
This Perth hustle it’s deep in my skin.

Night falls heavy, but the grind stays lit,
Kwinny lanes tight, but we never quit.
From Sulphur road to Gilmore ave, streets know the name,
Jul’z and Splity, runnin’ the game.
Cash in the duffle, smoke in the rear,
Eyes on the prize, no time for fear.
Tick burner hot, plans locked tight,
We movin’ weight clean, no shade in sight.

Tick for the flip…
No talk on the trip…
Money don’t fold, it stack and drip…
From dawn to dusk, it’s the same old hustle,
Dodgin’ the eyes, keep the muscle subtle.
City lights flicker, shadows get deep,
We play for keeps no time for sleep.

Split-teeee… and Jul’z… on the Freeee-way…
Thirty thou’ cash… ain’t no leee-way…
Nedlands plug… got ten for the lowwww…
Pick it up smooth… then we baaaack on goooo…

Cottes-loooe… breeze… Freeo drip…
Back to Kwinny… tick-tick… flip…
Lick get hit… pack get split…
No talk for the trip
Money don’t fold it stack and drip
We don’t follow nothin’… we Splitt… and spit.

Peak Hour

Rise As One

50 Cent - Many Men (but it's so COLD it will give you the chills) Ai cover

07 -Zappa & The Gring - One Lost Life - Zappa & The Gring

Ain’t No Road is a late-night blues rap about love stretched across cities her in Melbourne, me stuck in Perth. It’s the sound of empty beds, ghosted laughs, and counting down nights until the touch comes back home. Every verse drips with distance, silence, and the pull of love that keeps the heart steady even when the miles don’t.
This one’s for anyone missing their person, lying awake with the fan humming and the streets too quiet. It’s raw, heartfelt, and real love against the clock, love against the road.


Lyrics
Ain’t No Road
By Daryl Splitt

Ain’t no road that short,
To bring your touch back home.
I reach across this pillow,
But it’s just skin on bone.
You’re out in Melbourne city,
And I’m stuck in this bed tonight alone…

It’s 2 AM and the fan hums low,
Phone lit up but the signal won’t show.
Your name in my texts like ghosts in a frame,
But I carnt hear your laugh, just the echo of your name.

You said, “It’s just a trip, baby, I won’t be long,”
But the calendar’s cold, ain’t flipped in months gone.
Your hoodie on my chair still holds your perfume,
And this bottle in my hand where once your smile bloomed.

Staring at the roof like it might drop a sign,
Your voice in my head, line after line.
But this bed’s too big, and the night’s too still,
Can’t fake no sleep when your touch is my thrill.

Ain’t no road that short,
To bring your touch back home.
I reach across this pillow,
But it’s just skin on bone.
You’re out in Melbourne city,
And I’m stuck in this bed tonight alone…

Heard your laugh through a video you sent,
But it cut like glass — too sweet, then it went.
You out there glowing while the streetlights shine,
I’m puffin’ on nights with a half-smoked line.

The walls too quiet and this air too loud,
I walk past your shoes, my chest beats proud.
I know you’re doing your thing, I ain’t holding you back,
But without your hand, I’m slipping off track.

I face the mirror but my eyes look down,
No words left, just that Perth-town frown.
Wish you’d walk through the door, drop the bags with a smile,
And crash in my arms, even just for a while.

Acting like I’m strong, built for the space,
But this silence sting’s worse than time in a case.
You keep me steady, my calm, my fight,
The balance in my storm, the hope in my night.

Your cup on the sink, your lipstick on the rim,
My mind still traces your lips like sin.
I keep the blinds low, don’t wanna see day,
Even the sunlight mocks what you took away.

Counting down sleeps, counting down lies,
Telling myself “fine,” but my chest still cries.
If love’s a war, I’m unarmed, no gun,
Just work piling up… and the sound of none.

I picture the key turning slow in the lock,
You step in the light, time starts to stop.
Hair falling wild, eyes holding fire,
Like you crossed every mile to lift me higher.

I’d drop to my knees, not in pain but relief,
Let silence break, let your touch be the thief.
You’d fall in my arms like we never split,
Like distance and clocks never mattered a bit.

But dreams fade fast, and the clock don’t lie,
It’s 4 AM now, just the stars in the sky.
Still I leave one light on, just in case you dip,
Back to Perth from the east 
Still lustin’ for that drip.

No road too long, no city too wide,
You ground my soul, you’re my calm inside.
I’ll hold this love through the nights I roam,
‘Til you’re back in my arms, and this bed feels like home.

Aint No Road

This is for all those who go through what I do

Voices in my head, got me talkin’ to the wall,
Every night I hear the whispers, tryna make a brother fall.
Stress in my chest, but I’ll never drop dead,
Fuck the system, I rise with the voices in my head.
Paranoid steps, every move I tread,
Cops on my hole, but they ain’t got me yet.


Nights in the trap, I ain’t slept in a week,
Eyes on the door, hear the floorboards creak.
Sirens in the wind, got my heart on edge,
But I’m standin’ on the line, won’t step off the ledge.
Judge wanna bury me, system wanna fold me,
Homies turned ghost when the cops tried to hold me.
Pressure on my shoulders, but I fight instead,
Can’t drown me out, I got voices in my head.

Voices in my head, got me talkin’ to the wall,
Every night I hear the whispers, tryna make a brother fall.
Stress in my chest, but I’ll never drop dead,
Fuck the system, I rise with the voices in my head.
Paranoid steps, every move I tread,
Cops on my hole, but they ain’t got me yet.


Whispers in the dark, sayin’ “watch who you trust,
Loyalty’s fake, most the love just rust.
Brothers in the dirt, too many names on stone,
Got me writin’ in the night, bleed my pain through the phone.
Ankle chain tight, but my dreams still move,
I’m a product of the struggle, living proof in the booth.
Can’t silence my truth, I speak what they dread,
Fuck a crooked badge, I got voices in my head.

Voices in my head, got me talkin’ to the wall,
Every night I hear the whispers, tryna make a brother fall.
Stress in my chest, but I’ll never drop dead,
Fuck the system, I rise with the voices in my head.
Paranoid steps, every move I tread,
Cops on my hole, but they ain’t got me yet.

Smoke in the air, can’t see but I breathe,
Pain in my gut, but I still don’t leave.
Cops kickin’ doors, but they late to the show,
I’ve been playin’ this game, and they too slow.
Time on my wrist, still I write my fate,
I’m the last one standin’ when they close that gate.
Blood in my pen, every word I bled,
Truth in my soul with these voices in my head.

Voices in my head, got me talkin’ to the wall,
Every night I hear the whispers, tryna make a brother fall.
Stress in my chest, but I’ll never drop dead,
Fuck the system, I rise with the voices in my head.
Paranoid steps, every move I tread,
Cops on my hole, but they ain’t got me yet.

System on my neck, but I’ll never say quit,
Born in the fire, I was made for this shit.
Can’t cage the mind, can’t choke my flow,
I spit what I live, and the struggle gon’ show.
Even if the reaper try to drag me to the dead,
I’ll fight till I’m gone with the voices in my head.


Cops on my hole, but I still walk free,
Fuck the system, they can’t break me.
Scars on my body, but I rise instead,
Whole life haunted by the voices in my head.

Voice’s In My Head

Born in the Northern Territory but raised on the streets of Kwinana, Western Australia, I learned early on that hustle was the way forward. I always said, “born in NT, raised on the Kwinnny streets,” because that’s exactly how it felt like I had to make my own way.
Ever since my teens, I was hustling. It started small—swiping my mum’s smokes and selling them at school. Then came the dexies. I was supposed to hand them over to the nurse, but when my mate offered me 50 bucks cash, I saw the game for what it was. That was the beginning.
School wasn’t my thing, but I found my own way through. At 14, I got work experience because I wouldn’t turn up to class. That’s where I took off in IT learning how to play with sounds, create animations, design websites, and do some programming. I loved it, but there was no thrill, no excitement. So I pushed forward, got my Year 11, my Certs 1–4 in IT, a diploma, and my Certs 1–4 in business. By 18, I had it all—my diploma, my certificates, my Year 12. I moved into my mate’s dad’s house, renting a room, looking for independence before I was even legally an adult.
Then came the hard reality my father had taken his own life, and I had to face that. But instead of breaking, I found my way around. I don’t know what it was, but someone upstairs had my back. Even in my darkest moments, I found solid people, real ones, right when I needed them. The universe works in mysterious ways.
Before my 19th birthday, I quit my job. I had all the paperwork, the qualifications but none of it meant anything without something bigger. I told my boss straight up, “I’m gonna be a kingpin.” He couldn’t believe it, but he never turned his back on me. Stephen Retzlaff a genius with computers, a man who saw potential in me even when I was heading down a wild road. He never condoned my antics, but he always supported me, helped me better myself. And every time, I’d take off, find new challenges, and overcome them. He was stunned at the determination I had, but I never quit to be nothing—I quit to build somethin I ran with four of Perth’s biggest dynasties. I made my name in the underground. I never snitched, never gave a statement loyalty was my code, and I never broke it.
Plastering, drilling it all led me to Kalgoorlie. I went there as a driller and came back with knowledge, connections, bigger than I ever imagined. Kal became a funnel, an opportunity, a place where demand was high, and once again, luck was on my side. A mate from the bush introduced me to the right people, and things moved forward.
At 21, I left for Kal. At 23, I came back to Perth, ran into an old mate from jail, and that led me into a powerful family. I won’t name names, but I was there for years, watching, learning. In that time, I met famous people, legends, movers, and shakers. I saw the game for what it really was. People are treacherous, but I made sure those around me didn’t fall victim to it. And I made damn sure I stuck to my code.
At 27, I got four years for trafficking meth. Another three years locked up, bouncing between jails. In Hakea, near the end of my sentence, I connected with someone who opened doors I never expected. For the next seven years, I was moving in silence, a quiet achiever.
By 39, I retired. The game had declared me a trafficker meth, molly, weed I had perfected the trade, learned every lesson, played every angle. But I saw how pointless it all was. I survived the fast lane, met incredible people, and came out the other side with wisdom that few ever get to learn.
Now, it’s all about music. I’ve stored years’ worth of poetry, lessons written in rhyme, experiences put into scripture. iPhones gave me a new way to craft beats, refine my sound, and start something real. I’m investing in my record label, pushing my music, putting my message out there. Not for fame, not for fortune but to give back to the people who deserve it. To leave a legacy
Because at the end of the day, I lived my life at full speed, survived it, and now I want to build something that lasts. I still want to have kids, I still want something real and the next chapter is about making that happen.

Voice’s In My Head

Big Splity

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