GBV is a result of mental instability,  joy and the holy spirit.  For as long as the soul is disconnected from God, it will not find peace.  The secret is compassion,  empathy and surrender.  Love everybody,  don't think and don't hold a grudge.  Whenever you are tense, take a deep breath, forgive and take omega 3s👍🙏❤️😅✨️✨️✨️

DON'T KILL

Coral

Fun At Night

A protest song after seeing people just throw rubbish out of a car window. Contains swearing.

Green Grass

Afro-hop celebration,  inspiration affection dedicated to those who did before,  paving the path to be followed. 👍🙏✨️✨️✨️❤️😂

CELEBRATION

Kasi Rap connect with Afro-hop,  let it 🔥 ❤️😂🙏👍

AZITSHE BY RUFF T FT TOOLBOX AN KILLOR

Untitled Rough demo

old school house mix with Afro-hop brings back this great classic back 😂🙏👍❤️👀

D-SHOFAR

Rush

Triple C.Killer or Duke (AntiCommunist Cowboy Clown Killer) lies on the cold, unforgiving table, the harsh fluorescent lights above him feel too bright, piercing through the darkness of his past that he can’t escape. The straps dig into his wrists and ankles, a reminder of the control he once had over others, a power that now slips away like sand through his fingers. It is May 9, 1994, and he knows that time has ticked down to its final moments; the impending lethality of the injection looms larger than his regrets. Near him stands Father Tommy, but in the Duke's disturbed mind, he is more than a preacher. This is Tommy Zygote, the enigmatic founder of Thrashing Zombies. The Duke chuckles quietly, the irony of seeking solace from someone who might turn his story into a twisted anthem not lost on him. As the IV needle pierces his skin, the Duke feels an unsettling pang of vulnerability wash over him. Memories flood in: the faces of the boys, the laughter that filled his home, now mere echoes of a haunted past. Once a celebrated community figure, he now lies bare on this table with nothing but shame to adorn him. “Father,” he begins, words slurring with a mix of fear and catharsis. “I didn’t know I was lost until they started to disappear.” Each word scrapes against his soul. He recalls the terrible grip he had on life, snuffing out the lights of so many young men, intertwined with memories of a stunted childhood where the shadows of his father loomed large, twisted lessons learned through fear. Father Tommy listens, eyes piercing yet strangely understanding. The Duke’s mind drifts, racing through 1970s Chicago, the bustling streets, the secrets whispered behind closed doors, the nights when he donned clown makeup to entertain children. In stark contrast, he realizes his mind housed a jester’s facade that concealed a monster. Heat from the lethal cocktail intensifies as he begins to shake, heart pounding faster. “I wanted to be loved, Tommy,” he confesses, tears breaking through his bravado. “But all I found was this emptiness… this insatiable hunger that gnawed at me.” Each moment ticks by, the weight of time pressing upon him. The Duke remembers the thrill of a hunt, chilling highs that flickered like distant stars, only to fade into the bleak darkness he now inhabits. The taste of blood and betrayal intertwines in his mind, recollections morphing into nightmares swirling around him. “I don’t want to die, not like this,” he murmurs, voice shaky and uncertain. “I wish I could take it all back. I wanted to be someone… anyone.” The IV fluid drips steadily, pulse thrumming louder against the silence surrounding him. “Your sins can’t be unmade, but you can find peace if you truly seek it,” Father Tommy responds, his voice laced with an odd blend of compassion and authority, something the Duke didn’t expect from the man he imagined was merely a conduit to the afterlife. Conflicted emotions swirl; how could peace exist when he has sown chaos? The seconds stretch as if mocking him, every tick resonating within the confines of his torment. As the final wave of the drug courses through him, the Duke’s resolve softens; he feels a strange acceptance settle in, the fabric of his existence unthreading, revealing the faces of his victims one last time. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, not just to Father Tommy, but to the universe, to the innocent lives extinguished by his hands. The world fades, colors dulling like a scene from one of those horror films he admired. “Forgive me,” he whispers, surrendering to the oblivion that beckons him, drowning out the remnants of his broken psyche as death embraces him like a lover he never knew. In those final moments, the tortured mind of the Duke falls silent, enveloped in darkness, leaving behind only echoes of questions reverberating through the void. Tommy leaned down and sung, "You anticommunist motherfucker, Elizabeth Proctor was innocent".

What`s for breakfast

Tripple C Killer

Triple C.Killer.

Brother of life. English Sessions. Taminaka Powers.

Brother of life📣

DDVLUX KAVOD is an Afro -hop artist from South Africa.  He is a song writer, producer and a vocalist. He can play different instruments including guitar, marimba and imbira.  He is also a beat maker, content creator and a Podcaster.  My email is availablebelow for collaborations or to work with me. You can follow me on all social media platforms @DDVLUX.  For business deals and bookings please kindly email me dumolwethudazel@gmail.com or inbox me here or on messenger. l have created #iam for independent artists to unite and support each other. Please check out the song called #iam under description page here.You can join my master class called Sitdown&Tshilex daily on TikTok between 3&6 : am.  if you want to invest in my music you can contact me on the email given above or join my street team. All relevant details are under the description page of my song called Pusha, here. For gifts or donations please use this FNB East London 212 bank account no : 63139967830 :DD Vokwana: branch code:210121, SWIFT CODE : FIRNZAJJ Thanks for stopping by, your support is greatly appreciated 🙏👍❤️✨️✨️✨️😂 you can inbox me your Facebook username to add you on my group or email address to add you on my mailing list...