Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI.
Lyrics written by Dr Mester .
Not for commercial use.

Preface:

Every massage therapist has heard it all—wild requests, ridiculous expectations, and those oh-so-common awkward moments. Clients want deep tissue but not too deep, relaxation but not too relaxed, and somehow expect a 30-minute session to fix every ache they've had since high school.

"Massage Therapist Blues" is an anthem for every therapist who has smiled through the madness, held back the sarcasm, and just kept rubbing. From stubbly legs to moaning clients, this song dives into the funniest, weirdest things massage therapists hear on the job. So sit back, relax (but not too much), and enjoy the absurdity!


"Massage Therapist Blues"

(The Funny, Relatable Anthem)

[Verse 1]
Client walks in, says, “I’m feelin' tight,”
“Just work my shoulders, don’t touch the rest tonight!”
I say, “Oh honey, that’s not how it goes,
Your whole body’s a map, I’ll work every road!”

But she says, “I don’t like oils, can you skip that part?”
“Just rub me down with nothing, yeah, that’s an art!”
I’m like, “Sure, no oil, just bare hands, it’s fine,
But you’ll leave here drier than a desert’s spine!”

[Chorus]
Oh, I’m the massage therapist, yeah, I’m on my game,
But the stuff they say to me just drives me insane!
“Fix my back in ten minutes, can you make it flat?”
“I’m not a miracle worker, but I’ll give it a crack!”
Massage therapist blues, they don’t know what they ask,
But I’ll rub it out, baby, no questions, no mask!

[Verse 2]
Client says, “Ohh, I love your touch, can I take you home?”
I say, “Sorry, honey, I’m married to my foam!”
Then she says, “Can you go deeper? My muscles are so tight!”
I drop my voice low, “Is this deep enough tonight?”

She moans again, “I love your touch, you’re a gem!”
I smile, “Honey, I’m just here to treat your muscle’s hem!”

And then she says, “No feet, please! I hate my feet!”
I laugh and say, “No worries, we’ll just keep that part discreet!”

Then she says, “I’m sorry, I forgot to shave my legs.”
I say, “No worries, honey, I’m here for muscles, not your stubble!”

[Chorus]
Oh, I’m the massage therapist, yeah, I’m on my game,
But the stuff they say to me just drives me insane!
“Fix my back in ten minutes, can you make it flat?”
“I’m not a miracle worker, but I’ll give it a crack!”
Massage therapist blues, they don’t know what they ask,
But I’ll rub it out, baby, no questions, no mask!

[Bridge]
She says, “I lost my shoulder, my knees, my hips and my neck,
But can you fix me up in thirty minutes? Oh heck!”
I grin and say, “Girl, I’m a therapist, not a magician,
But I’ll work with what we’ve got, no need for a petition!”

[Verse 3]
She says, “Work my calves, but don’t touch my feet,”
I say, “Girl, I’m a therapist, not a circus feat!”
She says, “I need a miracle, a flat tummy now!”
I say, “Well, I’ll start with your shoulders, and we’ll figure it out somehow!”

[Chorus]
Oh, I’m the massage therapist, yeah, I’m on my game,
But the stuff they say to me just drives me insane!
“Fix my back in ten minutes, can you make it flat?”
“I’m not a miracle worker, but I’ll give it a crack!”
Massage therapist blues, they don’t know what they ask,
But I’ll rub it out, baby, no questions, no mask!

Massage Therapist Blues

Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI.
Lyrics written by Dr Mester .
Not for commercial use.

Preface to "TOO SKILLED TO KILL"

In the hushed corridors of power—boardrooms, clinics, studios, or streets—there’s a quiet war waged against the too skilled. The ones whose brilliance rattles the status quo, whose gifts outshine the dim glow of complacency. This is an anthem for the undervalued, the ones dismissed not for lack of talent, but for having too much of it.

Nepotism’s shadow stretches long. Managers cling to comfort, favoring familiarity over fire. They mistake loyalty for legacy, trading potential for puppets who nod, never create. But what happens when raw skill disrupts the script? When hands that heal, words that cut, or rhythms that resurrect expose the cracks in their throne? They call it “theft,” “disloyalty,” “attitude”—anything to bury the truth: excellence terrifies mediocrity.

This story isn’t just about fired therapists or a client’s loyalty. It’s about every soul who’s been gaslit into doubting their magic. The jazz riff here isn’t just sound—it’s the chaos of clashing egos at most workspaces in any profession. The reggae groove? The pulse of resilience, the heartbeat of those who rise even as doors slam behind them.

So let the jealous tie their knots. Let the favored fade into their echo chambers. Talent can’t be muted. Grace can’t be gatekept. And when the truth finally drops? It don’t tap—it thunders.

—A hymn for the ones who outgrew the box.

TOO SKILLED TO KILL

(rap/jazz/reggae fusion)
🎤 [Hook / Chorus – Repeat]

    Skill too loud, can't mute me
    Jealous hands can't soothe me
    Truth hurts? Then feel that knot
    I heal souls—she ties knots

🎤 [Verse 1 – Fired Therapist]

They let me go, said “thanks, but nah,”
Wasn’t skill—just fear in a jealous spa.
Three years in, still mid-tier touch,
But my fingers? Blessings. Too much? Clutch.

Client came once, then they never looked back,
Said my hands spoke peace—she just cracked.
Whispers in shadows, lies on repeat,
But I’m the one left standin’ with receipts.

“Clients complained”? Cute little play,
Funny how they begged to book me anyway.
Truth got legs, hers barely crawl,
She threw shade ‘cause I made her fall.

I ain’t steal clients—they ran to my door,
Said, “That other massage? Felt like a chore.”
Owner shook, chose comfort over flame,
Could’ve had a legend. Now just shame.
🎤 [Hook / Chorus – Repeat]

    Skill too loud, can't mute me
    Jealous hands can't soothe me
    Truth hurts? Then feel that knot
    I heal souls—she ties knots

🎤 [Verse 2 – Client POV]

Walked in tight, walked out whole,
He touched my spine, but healed my soul.
Tried the other—yeah, three-year vet,
But all I felt was pressure and regret.

Wasn’t rude, just real with the facts,
Said, “He the truth”—ain’t no need to act.
He ain’t steal me—I left on my own,
He ain’t hustle me—I found home.

Now I hear whispers, “He took my base,”
Nah, sis, he earned that space.
You had time, but you played it safe,
He showed up, now you feel replaced.

That’s not theft, that’s just growth,
He touched nerves you never approached.
You called it theft? Nah—it’s grace,
He gave what you couldn’t face.
🎷 [Bridge – Spoken Word / Jazz Interlude]

They said “we’re a team”—’til I shined too bright,
Then hands turned cold in the dead of night.
This ain’t just touch—it’s medicine flow,
It’s heart to hand, it’s soul below.

Jealousy don’t care 'bout healing arts,
Just wants the praise, not the patient’s hearts.
They fired grace, kept the noise instead,
Killed the bond just to save their dread.
✋🏽 [Mini-Section – “Fake Fives”]

Gave me high-fives like we tight or sum’n,
But her grip felt cold—like a loaded gun.
Laughed in the lounge, but she feared my flame,
Clapped her hands while whisperin’ blame.
🎤 [Final Hook – Repeat & Fade]

    Skill too loud, can't mute me
    Healing's art, not a beauty pageant
    Jealous shade? Just free promo
    Fired the truth. What a low blow.

TOO SKILLED TO KILL

Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI.
Lyrics written by Dr Mester .
Not for commercial use.

🔌 SOUNDCLOUD DESCRIPTION

🎵 "DISCONNECTED ERA"
(Prod. by The Algorithm feat. Your Lost Attention Span)

A sarcastic anthem for the chronically online.

We upgrade phones but downgrade souls,
Ghost our humans to please the scrolls,
Pay for 5G but can’t connect—
Congrats! You’re the protagonist of a Black Mirror episode.

🔥 Tags:
#DigitalDystopia #SoulOnAirplaneMode #NewPhoneWhoDis #WiFiAndTears #UnsentMessages #DoomScrollAnthem

(Lyrics in bio… if you still read those.)


 "DISCONNECTED ERA" (FULL SONG) 🎤

(A sarcastic anthem for the digital apocalypse)

📱 [HOOK] x2
Wi-Fi lit, but the soul’s on mute—
Chargin’ our phones while we drain the truth.
Back in the day, tied to the landline,
Now we scrollin’ prisons thinkin’ we fine.

🔌 [VERSE 1]
Tied to a wall, still free to roam,
Now I’m global with a leash in my dome.
Landlines buzzed, but hearts spoke clear,
Now emojis mask what we used to hear.

"Your call is important," said a human voice—
Now it’s bots, ads, algorithm choice.
Privacy’s pixel-dust, swept in a file,
We traded the wires for a tighter dial.

📶 [CHORUS]
We got five bars but zero reception,
Ghostin’ real life for digital affection.
DMs deep but the talkin’s shallow,
Profile pic fresh—but the soul’s stale, yo.

📡 [VERSE 2]
Tap, swipe, update your brain—
All your thoughts rerouted for gain.
Smartphone dumbin’, scrollin’ abyss,
Freedom’s a myth with a notification twist.

Bluetooth noose, hang by the ping,
Echoes of meaning in a TikTok swing.
Used to be grounded, now we float,
Unplugged hearts in a bandwidth boat.

💸 [VERSE 3] "UPGRADE TO OBLIVION"
We camp out for that shiny new toy,
4K tears—still can’t find joy.
Face ID unlocked, but the eyes stay blank,
Screen bright as hell—soul’s on low battery, thanks.

Ring-ring—oh shit, a human voice?
Nah, let it die—we’d rather scroll noise.
"Upgrade complete!" says the corporate god,
Now we’re all ghosts with a 5G facade.

🛸 [BRIDGE]
If the net cuts out, do you even breathe?
If the likes go black, do you still believe?
Can you talk without the thumb parade,
Or you lost in feeds your soul obeyed?

☠️ [OUTRO] (slow, distorted)
Wi-Fi lit, but we dimmed inside—
Prayin’ for bars while the self just hides.
Used to be tied, now we tethered tight...
A wire cut once now grips us right.

(…call failed…)

DISCONNECTED ERA

Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI.
Lyrics written by Dr Mester .
Not for commercial use.

🔥 SOUNDCLOUD DESCRIPTION 🔥

"GENERATION SELFIE: A SARCASTIC ODE"
(Prod. by Dr Mester | Art by Dr Mester

⚠️ WARNING: This is not a song. This is a mirror held up to the digital abyss.

We live in an age where your worth is measured in pixels, your identity reduced to a pose, a filter, a swipe. Anna Uddenberg’s hollow mannequins laugh at us—we became the art.

This track is a eulogy for attention spans, a middle finger to the algorithm, and a dark comedy for anyone who’s ever faked a smile for the ’gram.

FOR FANS OF:

    Death Grips if they hated TikTok

    Bo Burnham’s "Inside" on nihilistic steroids

    Early JPEGMAFIA meets a Twitter thread gone rogue

PLAY IF:

    You’ve ever canceled plans to stay home and post about "self-care."

    Your phone screen time is your most toxic relationship.

    You know "body positivity" is just another market to exploit.

LYRICS PINNED ⬇️
(Tag #DystopianHustle #SatireCore #PostIrony)


LYRICS

"GENERATION SELFIE: A SARCASTIC ODE (10/10 CUT)"
(INTRO)

(Whispered, distorted)
"Smile for the algorithm..."
(VERSE 1)

Yo, welcome to the era of the self-obsessed,
Where the selfie stick’s the modern-day holy confess.
Chicks in yoga pants, call it "artistic expression,"
But it’s just another filter for sexual obsession.
Anna Uddenberg’s sculptures hit the core,
Mirrorin' the truth we scroll past, ignore.

Broken homes, no dads in sight,
Single moms grindin’—God left the fight.
Kids raised on screens, no aim, no direction,
Lost in the void, swipe left for affection.
Dismantle the family, turn from divine,
Now it’s all OnlyFans, pay-per-mind.
(CHORUS x2)

Strike a pose, arch that back, call it yoga,
But it’s bait for the likes—a sad kinda toga.
Men scrollin’, zombies with no ambition,
Feeding the cycle, synthetic nutrition.
(VERSE 2)

Without fathers, we get boys that don’t grow,
Mini-man NPCs, no seeds to sow.
They swipe, they scroll, they consume the tease,
Lost in the fog of digital disease.

And the ladies? Play the role they’ve been sold,
Thinkin’ self-worth’s a thigh gap and gold.
The dismantled nucleus—what a sad creation,
An entire generation raised on inflation.

Demoralized values, lost and misplaced,
A culture obsessed with image, image, face, and waist
Hate God, hate purpose, rebel with no cause,
But what fills the void? Fake love, fake laws.
(CHORUS x2)

Strike a pose, arch that back, call it yoga,
But it’s bait for the likes—a sad kinda toga.
Men scrollin’, zombies with no ambition,
Feeding the cycle, synthetic nutrition.
(BRIDGE)

This ain’t just the ladies—boys are demoralized too,
Chasing shallow fame in a world askew.
Gaming, scrolling, wasting their prime,
Trading real ambition for likes in real-time.
Society’s crumbling under this cheap facade,
Calling it freedom while worshipping the fraud.
(NEW VERSE 3)

@VanitySlays posts "awareness" between thirst traps,
Her activism’s just a merch-selling gap.
"Body positivity"—but only if you’re toned,
The rest get shadow-banned, left unknown.

And the simps? Oh, they fund the decay,
Tipping their rent money just for a "hey."
Influencer temples where souls go to flex, 
Sacrificin’ privacy for the ’gram hex.
(CHORUS x2 – SLOWER, DISTORTED)

Strike a pose... (pose...) arch that back... (back...)
But it’s bait for the likes—a heart attack.
Men scrollin’... (scrollin’...) zombies with no vision,
Feeding the cycle—terminal condition.
(OUTRO)

So here’s the truth, raw and untamed,
A world where family trees got defamed.
No fathers to guide, no mothers to teach,
Just a screen in their hands and a world out of reach.

We’re buildin’ a legacy on shallow foundations,
Lost souls scrollin’ through empty temptations.
Strike a pose, take a pic, call it art,
But deep inside—it’s tearing us apart.

(Beat cuts, then a single notification "ping")

GENERATION SELFIE A SARCASTIC ODE

Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI., lyrics are protected under the US Copyright laws
Lyrics written by Dr Mester .
Not for commercial use.

lyrics are in here too lower.. This is a mirror for the quiet storms— for those who move like water but strike like lightning. ⚡

This track is not just music; it's a spiritual fingerprint—a battle cry for the forged souls. For those who’ve walked through fire, who’ve been scarred but stand taller because of it. This is for those who know the weight of the world but still carry their truth like a crown.

As a Chinese Water Ox with Enneagram Type 2 energy, I stand in the space between the tide and the flame, as patient as the ocean, as nurturing as fire, as unshakable as mountains. If you’re the kind of soul who gives love fiercely but freezes out betrayal, who builds bridges but burns illusions, then this anthem is your warrior’s hymn. 🌊🔥🛡️

This isn’t for the faint-hearted or the unwilling to look deep. It’s for those who can hear the echoes in the quiet, who understand the power of resilience, self-realization, and truth when everything else feels like an illusion. It’s not about shining for others or chasing fleeting crowns. This is about standing in your own sacred space and knowing you are enough, no matter the storm.

This is not about fitting in, seeking approval, or playing nice with those who want you to shrink. It’s not for the ones who refuse to look beyond the surface or for those who want everything handed to them without having earned it. This is for the warriors—those who know that the battle is within, and that true power comes from embracing the struggle and rising from it stronger. 💥

If you feel this, you’re already one of us. The rest? Let them find their way. This is for those who understand the cost of the crown—not the ones who want it handed to them, but the ones who earned it with fire. 🔥👑

To my Ox/Type 2 kin:
🌊 You know the weight of loyalty and the cost of silent strength...
🔥 You recognize when helping others becomes sacred rebellion...
⚡ You’ve felt the rage of water —slow, then unstoppable.

—This is us.

Truth is truth, no matter the tongue. But today, let the riddim speak.*

🛠️ CREDITS:

    Vibe: If Marcus Garvey and Lao Tzu produced a roots album

    Key Lyrics: "Forged in the flood" (Water Ox) / "Feed the weak — leave the wolves to whine" (Type 2)

    Sound Alchemy: 70s dub echoes, wuxia stillness, Nyabinghi heartbeat

🎧 #Tags:
#WaterOxAnthem #Enneagram2 #ReggaeTruth #SacredRebellion #QuietStormMusic

(Chorus)
Who I am? Just watch I rise
In the fire, through truth, no disguise
I don't chase crowns, don't beg no man
Forged in the flood, still I stand

(Verse 1)
Step 'way, let I chant the tone
Not just flesh — I'm more than bone
Born in the system but I break that chain
Every verse I spit, purify the pain

See, Babylon love the surface shine
But I reason deep, seek the higher sign
Dem build illusions, I move through mist
Truth like a blade — it twist when it hits

(Verse 2)
Me no drown in emotion tide
Still waters hold the rage inside
Shape the pain like a blade refined
Silent forge where the stars align

Dem call it 'soft' when I choose to heal
But deep wells quench the rebel's zeal
Type 2 love with a Oxen spine
Feed the weak — leave the wolves to whine

(Bridge)
Don't take my silence for weakness seen
I read the stars and dream between
Carry loads most man would drop
But I don't bow, I rise to the top

(Final Chorus)
It's the weight I carry, but I don't break
I plant with faith, and the harvest great
Not just riddim — this a sacred cry
For the voiceless, for I and I

So if you chant truth, then chant with I
If your heart stay clean, we rise high
But bring deceit? I sight that clear
This soul don't flinch, and it don't know fear

(Outro - whispered)
Babylon can't bind I soul...
Jah light I road...

Who I Am in Babylon.mp3

Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI.
    ✍️ Lyrics written by Dr Mester. Protected under U.S. Copyright laws.
    ⚠️ Not for commercial use.

This song was born from a blend of Hungarian and Romani (cigány) language, sprinkled with English, inspired by the fire of “Who She Be.”
It celebrates truth, power, and adaptation — where every word pulses to the rhythm of freedom and identity.

    Táncolj. Élj. Szeress.
    When reality meets reality, there are no masks — only two souls under the sky.

While Suno gave the voice, I gave the heart. Soon I’ll sing it myself — with my accent, my fire, my truth.
This is not about imitation.
This is homage. This is Earthchild music.
Borders are invitations — and I accept them dancing.


Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI., lyrics are protected under the US Copyright laws
Lyrics written by Dr Mester .
Not for commercial use.

A magyar és cigány (roma) nyelv keverékéből, némi angol szórással született dal, a “Who She Be” ihletésére. A szöveg a valóságot, erőt és alkalmazkodást ünnepli, ahol minden szó a szabadság és önazonosság ritmusára lüktet. Táncolj, élj, szeress—mert amikor a valóság találkozik a valósággal, nincs álarc, csak két lélek az ég alatt.

[Intro]
HEY!—
„Hallod ezt, babám? Von na džanan…”
—HOPPA!
JAJJ!—
„Džanan so?”
—DIKK!
„Di-da-du, sh‑bop… avri, dikhen.
Aha… kon si la?”
Feel the beat… come, see. Who she bee!!
—OPPA!

[Verse 1]
HELLÉD!—
Si zor, si rani — na trubul korona,
Na trubul te phenen — hi yag ande kova.
—HEJJ!
Tűzzel épít, koronát nem kér,
Pillanatra se dobbant, már lángol a szív.
—CSINÁDD!
Phurdel le drom, shaj romalö la jekh sham,
Táncol a sötétben, mint éjfél tajta.
—HEY!
Szívritmus, lassú, mégis szúr,
Léptei egyenletesek — nem kér föl az ár.
—JAJJ, !! HESS!
Phenen: „Sar kerel?” — La hasarel: „Adaptivav.”
Hogy csinálja?” — „Alkalmazkodom.”
—SH-BAM!
Nem menekülés, nem pajzs —
This is raw erő, ez gravity kód.
—VIGYÁZZÁL, DIKK!

[Chorus]
HEY!—
„La na kél fame‑ra, la na khel lesko khel.
Nem kell neki dicsőség, nem játszik játékot.
—OPPA! MINEK?
HOP-HOP!—
„Hi jekh yag…”
—DIKK!
CSINÁDD!—
„Khel? Na! Drew!”
Game? Nope, csak valóság!
—JAJJ! THAT'S RIGHT!

[Verse 2]
SH-BOP!, SH-BOP, VáLTSáL!—
Me som tiro whiskey, tiro lil ande not,
Töredék a dallam, ami szívig hat.
—HOPPA!
Puzzle vagyok a rhyme‑ban,
Punchline‑ja úgy lebeg — ho‑doo‑bah!
—HELLÉD!
Mangav flash‑ot? Me som slow‑burn spark,
Kihajt a popsi odabenn — queen remark.
—HEJJ!
IGAZ! Truth!
—CSINÁDD!
Me som solid, gone — sar phantom Cadillac,
Simán suhanok, nem tekintek hátra.
—HOP-HOP!
Phenen: „Mystery si tu?” — La: „Nichi, me som kristal.”
Tiszta fényem nem rejtőzik —
Na félek a nav‑lokaltól.
—OPPA!

[Verse 3]
HEY!—
Me som talyox le ox‑e, la si yag‑e flare.
—CSINÁDD!
A flame nem könyörög — kitekeri az egeket már.
—HOP-HOP!
Si jakha ande kova drom, sar gyökeres fa,
—HELLÉD!
Gyökerek nem kérnek bocsánatot,
amikor a földet áttörik!
—HEJJ! DE NEM áM!

[Chorus]
HEY!—
Nem csak suhanna — la kerel a bar,
—HOP-HOP!
JAJJ DIKK!—
Amikor nyomás jön, me maradok állva.
—CSINÁDD!
OPPA!—
Ha a világ kételkedik, mi nem vesztjük lépést.
Duj manus, jekh drom — jekh udvar, jekh ergya.
—HEJJ!

[Outro]
SH-BOP!—
Kon si la? – E reflekt: miro tükör.
—HOP-HOP!
Nem csak társam — me sam aven drom.
—CSINÁDD!
OPPA!—
Zor pe zor, duma pe duma,
Duj lelki egyezés, egy sóhaj…
—HEJJ!
Nem csupán békém — me amen vadaskodás,
—HOPPA!
És én látom őt egészben,
sötétben… fényben.
—CSINÁDD!
HEY!—
Amikor valóság talál valósággal —
nincs álarc.
Feljövünk együtt…
alatt a végtelen éggel.
—HOPPA! JAJJ DIKK! HEJJ! HAJRÁ!

Kon Si La

🌹 Thorns and Petals 🌹
🎤 A poetic rap story of pain, power, and generational healing.

This track isn't just a song—it's a family reckoning wrapped in bars.
From being the overlooked daughter to becoming the voice of truth, "Thorns and Petals" journeys through the shadows of maternal favoritism, sibling rivalry, and grief—and lands in forgiveness and reconnection.

🔥 Dark, moody, and unflinchingly real, this piece blends raw lyricism with the therapeutic principles of Bert Hellinger—family constellations, ancestral roles, and the long road to healing. It’s a rap elegy, a love letter, and a declaration of self-worth all in one.

👑 For the misunderstood. For the unseen. For anyone breaking cycles.

💔 Featuring:

    Shadowed sisters

    A haunting father’s message from beyond

    A mother’s long-overdue reckoning

    And a final embrace that says: “We’re healing the stars.”

🎧 Press play, feel the pain, rise in the power.

Thorns and Petals(1)

🎙️ Instrumental and vocals generated with Suno AI.
    ✍️ Lyrics written by Dr Mester. Protected under U.S. Copyright laws.
    ⚠️ Not for commercial use.

"Clear Skies (The Reckoning)"
Genre: Reggae-rap with West Coast swagger
BPM: 90–100
Mood: Smooth knives in velvet pockets
WHAT THIS IS:
✅ A hypocrite’s autopsy set to smoked-out grooves
✅ Lyrical warfare draped in melodic basslines
✅ For creators who move while haters annotate
✅ No trap clichés — just live-band funk meets AI-age truth
WHAT THIS ISN’T:
❌ Another “look how rich I am” flex
❌ Mumble rap or TikTok bait
❌ AI worship — it’s about using tools, not losing soul
❌ For people who think “viral” means “good”


Clear Skies (The Reckoning)
[Intro]
(Texted your ghostwriter while talkin' trash...)
(Funny how the loudest critics... never check their drafts...)
[Hook]
Talkin' down, but you're watchin' me rise
Your shade can't hide from these algorithm skies
(Mm, ironic... Stay pressed...)
[Chorus]
You mock the wave but still wade in the shallow
Afraid to admit you borrowed your shadow
Style ain't taught - it's the answer they lack
So they paint their fear as a creative tax
(Autograph this L... 404 flair...)
[Verse 1]
Here's the blueprint of a hater's confession
Calls it cheating when he fails at expression
Wants my flow, but his hands stay stiff
Can't sign his work - so he forges a diss
Funny how the emptiest takes sound the same
Like a parrot in a museum, yelling at frames
(Still life... Frame that... Right click, save as...)
[Chorus]
You mock the wave but still wade in the shallow
Afraid to admit you borrowed your shadow
Style ain't taught - it's the answer they lack
So they paint their fear as a creative tax
(Gallery closed... Exit stage ego...)
[Verse 2]
Style's the answer - ask the page
Hemingway exited the coward's cage
You? You edit life, then claim it's fake
I live the lines you hesitate to make
Your voice? A footnote. Mine? The whole book
Keep debating fonts - I'm the hook, the look, the crook
(that stole the show while you took notes)
(Ghostwriter's remorse... Check the receipt...)
[Bridge]
You ran the lyrics through a bot
Just to see if you were caught -
Congrats, the code don't lie
Now ask yourself who's terrified
(Diagnosis: envy... Prescription: create...)
[Chorus]
You mock the wave but still wade in the shallow
Afraid to admit you borrowed your shadow
Style ain't taught - it's the answer they lack
So they paint their fear as a creative tax
(Signature required...)
[Outro]
So what's louder - the hand that steers
Or the mouth that just echoes and fears?
(You didn't lose the path... you refused to map it...)

clear sky reggae west coast laid back

Who She Be (Extended Nova-Reggae Swing F

"Naturopath by profession, rhythm-maker by passion. Exploring the deep connections between ancestral wisdom, nutrition, and sound. Funk-infused truths, anything from  fermented beets to delicious raw beats, and messages that challenge the norm."

clear sky reggae west coast laid back

Dr Mester Funk