This sounds so much like Pink maybe it will find Alisa Beth Moore...

before the clay

🔥 New Track Out Now! 🔥  
Title: [Love Is a Mirage]  
Produced by: [Music RooM]  

This track is a blend of real bars, raw emotion, and authentic rap vibes.  
If you're into real hip hop, storytelling, or trap beats – this one's for you.  

💬 Let me know what you think in the comments.  
💽 More music dropping soon – follow to stay updated!  
📲 Share if you feel it. Support independent music 🙌

#rap #hiphop #trap #drill #freestyle #soundcloudrap #newmusic #independentartist #upcomingrapper

Love Is a Mirage

© 2025 WhoaProductions – All Rights Reserved
 
Do you see what I see? 
Do you think the way  
I think? 
Do you feel what I feel? 
Opportunity 
to impunity 
discontinuity 
of our communities 
affinity to our  
true identity. 
Despite this 
Importunity 
Of disunity. 
Assuming “he” 
And his insanity. 
My blessed humanity 
Is greater than 
The incredulity. 
This is not duality. 
A mistake 
A misguided reference 
The belief in indifference, 
The Stoic distinction: 
Apathy verses indifference. 
The deliverance  
from our own innocence. 
To know 
I’m not supposed to know. 
“Just walk on by –  
wait on the corner. 
I love you 
But we’re strangers 
When we meet 
Just walk on by 
Wait on the corner.” 
I will not go  
silently into the night! 
How can I not 
know my own apathy 
while I feel this fright? 
If I live in the light 
I will see  
what’s not right. 
Please help me 
Understand when 
to run or fight. 
To stare into or 
look away from the light. 
The genocide  
Of my denial 
Is just love  
That’s being defiled 
By hate and beguiled. 
To look out from within. 
To speak of a world 
With no sin. 
To reach past time 
Not knowing  
Whence its crimes. 
Love all, serve all 
asked a gift of me 
And one I give 
that it be given me. 

*Si Babba 
*John Milton’s 1645 poem. On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity. 

The Stoic

Lyrics: “خاطرات”

خاطرات می‌ده یادم
که قلبمو ندم به یه آدم
بهم می‌گفتی می‌مونی کنارم
کردی بازی با من
 
بعد تو ته راهم
فقط تنهایی میاد سراغم
از من و تو یه قاب عکس مونده
فقط رو دیوار اتاقم
 
همه اون لحظه‌ها رو اعصابمه
زیادی بودم که تو رو الآن کم دارمت
این خاطره که همه ازش حرف می‌زنن
واسه ساختن نی، واسۀ زجردادنه
 
می‌خوای ازم دیگه هیچ وقت نکنم اصرار؟
چی می‌شه پس اون همه قول؟ اون همه احساس؟
شاید که بسته بشه روت این دوتا چشمام
ولی باز هست صورت تو پشت این پلکام
 
خاطرات می‌ده یادم
که قلبمو ندم به یه آدم
بهم می‌گفتی می‌مونی کنارم
کردی بازی با من
 
بعد تو ته راهم
فقط تنهایی میاد سراغم
از من و تو یه قاب عکس مونده
فقط رو دیوار اتاقم
 
بی‌خیال دنیا و عشق و قانونا
خاطرات تو خیابونا
یاد اون دیوونه‌بازیا
زیر بارونا

نه، نمی‌شه باورم
رسیده دیگه فصل آخرم
یه کاری کردی بعد تو
دریا نرم
 
خاطرات می‌ده یادم
که قلبمو ندم به یه آدم
بهم می‌گفتی می‌مونی کنارم
کردی بازی با من

بعد تو ته راهم
فقط تنهایی میاد سراغم
از من و تو یه قاب عکس مونده
فقط رو دیوار اتاقم
 
باحاله؟ نه؟!
هنوزم بهترین خاطره‌هات با من تو شماله؛ نه؟!
حیف!
باحاله؟ نه؟!
چرا خاطره‌ها می‌مونه باهات؟ واست یه سؤاله؛ نه؟!
هی!
هی!

Dekamond - Khaterat

Nothing Left

Ho3ein x Hiphopologist - 33.mp3

Bitter Cold

Dark country vibe with a boom bap beat, storytelling

(Verse 1)
Dust-choked trails from the Rio Grande,
Chains of Santa Annas iron hand,
We were peons in the shadow of the crown,
Taxed to bones, prayers drowned in the sound
Of cannons rollin like thunder from hell,
Families scattered, stories we dare not tell.
Tyrannys boot on our necks, breathin fire,
Mexican blood cryin out for a pyre.
We grabbed our machetes, our hearts full of rage,
Against the generals cage, we turned the page.
From the Alamos walls, we raised our cry,
No more the whip, no more the lie.  (Chorus)
Remember the Alamo, where the ghosts still moan,
Blood on the stones, seeds of freedom sown.
We fought the devil in the devils own land,
Broke from the chains with a gun in each hand.
Remember the Alamo, dark as the night,
Mexican fire, white lightning strike.
From tyrannys grave, we rose to the call,
Became Americans, one and all.  (Verse 2)
Thirteen days, siege like a fever dream,
Crocketts fiddle wailin, Bowies blade gleamin,
We Tejanos stood shoulder to shoulder with kin,
Against the horde crashin in.
Shots in the dark, screams cuttin the air,
Women and children hidin in prayer.
Santa Annas horde, a swarm of the damned,
But our resolve was the blade in his hand.
Fell to the last, no quarter, no plea,
Echoes of Viva la libertad in the debris.
The mission burned, but the spark wouldnt die,
Tyrannys empire cracked wide like the sky.  (Chorus)
Remember the Alamo, where the ghosts still moan,
Blood on the stones, seeds of freedom sown.
We fought the devil in the devils own land,
Broke from the chains with a gun in each hand.
Remember the Alamo, dark as the night,
Mexican fire, white lightning strike.
From tyrannys grave, we rose to the call,
Became Americans, one and all.  (Verse 3)
Then came the riders from the eastern plains,
White brothers in arms, breakin the chains.
Traviss line in the sand, drawn deep,
They crossed it with us, no promises cheap.
Sam Houstons roar at San Jacintos shore,
Remember the Alamo!—we settled the score.
Cavalry charge through the mud and the rain,
Mexican tyranny washed down the drain.
We bled together, brown skin and pale,
Forged in the fire, a new tale to hail.
From rebels in rags to stars on the flag,
Texas reborn, no more the drag.  (Bridge)
Whiskey-soaked nights by the campfires glow,
Ghosts of the fallen whisper low:
Freedom aint free, its carved in the bone,
Paid with our sweat, our screams, our own.
Dark as the grave where the heroes lay,
But dawn broke through on that bloody day.  (Outro - Fading Chorus)
Remember the Alamo... (echo: where the ghosts still moan)
Mexican fire... white lightning strike...
Became Americans... one and all...
(Beat drops heavy—boom bap snare cracks like rifle shots, pedal steel wails over 808 bass, banjo plucks a haunted riff into the void.)
dark county, boom bap drums, solo guitar

Remember the Alamo

Dark Country Boom Bap

Yeah… they meet in the pines where the moonlight don’t reach
Red robes, black hearts, and the screams never leak
Boom bap in the holler, truth in the smoke
This one’s for the children that they never let spoke…[Hook]
They drink from the cup in the underground chapel
Little bones in the fire while the blue-bloods cackle
Rulin’ every nation with a serpent-coil grip
If we don’t cut the head off, the world gon’ slip
Hang ‘em from the oak tree, let the crows have a feast
The elite gotta bleed for the sins of the beast
One rope, one match, no mercy, no trial
Satan’s landlords burn tonight in the country-boombap style  [Verse 1]
Midnight in the mansion, marble floors stained red
Politicians and princes with a child in the bed
Private jets to the island, manifest say “cargo”
Cameras catch the smile when the cargo can’t argue
They own the banks, the screens, the pills and the wars
Feed us fear for breakfast while they settle old scores
Ritual in the basement, candles made of fat
Inverted cross on the ceiling, pentagram doormat
They laugh when we fight left, they laugh when we fight right
Same hand pullin’ strings on both sides of the night
Inherited evil, blue blood never thins
Generations of devils wearin’ human skins  [Hook]  [Verse 2]
Preacher on the payroll, pastor with the goat head
Sunday sermon money built the tunnel where they’re both dead
Hollywood glowin’, but the light is from the pyre
Every missin’ child poster fuel for their fire
They put the symbols in the videos, laugh when we stream
Turn trauma to profit, turn a soul to a meme
Central banks printin’ despair by the billion
While the chosen few feast on the blood of the children
No conspiracy—this is history in plain sight
Just read the guest list from the night flight
We ain’t askin’ for justice, we tired of the charade
Torch in one hand, pitchfork, rope, and spade  [Bridge – half-spoken, low and mean]
Mama cried when the news said “suicide”
But the shotgun was left-handed and he shot from the right
Daddy swore that the sheriff looked away too long
Now the choir sings vengeance in a minor-key song  [Final Hook – slower, heavier drums]
So strike the match, let the pine trees burn black
No saviors comin’—we takin’ the world back
From the castle to the bunker, every crown gotta crack
When the people start swingin’, ain’t no comin’ back
Hang ‘em from the oak tree, let the crows have a feast
The elite gotta bleed for the sins of the beast
One rope, one match, end of the bloodline
Satan’s landlords burn tonight… and the boom bap keeps time  [Outro – fading slide guitar, distant church bell, then silence]
Tell the devil we comin’…
And we ain’t knockin’. [Drop that on a dusty beat with a swung boom bap loop and some eerie fiddle, and it’ll rattle bones in every hollow]

Blood On The Pentagram

Maybe art is just a circuit

until a human sparks the flame

Maybe sound is just a ripple

till a listener says your name

And maybe we are nothing

till you bring us into light

Maybe songs are just shadows

till your ears make them right

If It Hadn’t Been For Musiclovers lo-fi

Fragment  - (Mohreh Remix)

I create songs that explore spirit, truth, and the journey of being. These tracks are pieces of a bigger project—an unfolding story that blends music, spoken word, and film.

💡 Every lyric is about remembering who we truly are: created in the image of God, eternal spirit experiencing time.
⚡️ Each song is a step in the script—a feature-length story told through music.

Thank you for listening, sharing, and feeling this with me.
Follow to join the journey—more music, more truth, more life.

before the clay

brianwster