yuaintshitlilboy [lokolos]

⛧⛧ Real life Sinners ⛧⛧ 🧛🏽‍♂️👆🏾👇🏾Luci4 X 14Klonnerskull X Conjuraxxion [Prod.4jay]

instagram @8knifes
prod me co prod ceth
lyrics:

splish splash wipe my wrist like splish splash
 ay
fuck the court up the fye on they bitch ah
light a new blunt had to get the smoke black
had to duck the bitch i jus want da fat ass
in her kitty yeah digging her kitty
bad bitch and her fuckin ass fat
the sun is far away but now its going  black uhhu
took his life then ran away you not getting back uhuh
ay brand  new whip  the colors matte black uhuh
fuck the stylist she tried 2 steal my swag  uhuh
they never gave a fuck about us anyway
i got ebony & ivory like max payne
they all on  me but they could never hate
ima fuck dis bad bitch ina drive way
and her pussy fuckin  grippin like a sword claive 
im not fallin for these mothafuckin lies today

trapaholik

AXXTUREL - ØNSLAUGHT

unimportant 🖖🖖

Produced by Idontworry 
Follow my IG @ffh.evil

LETITGO

Some bday songs!!!! Ghosty on Jordan YEAEERRRRR!!!

Destination, Paradise (prod. by YOUNG Y.G.)

lungskull x akselbolt - take a peek (lungskull)

WAR DANCE #XX

VOID//SERAPH — Narrative 

In a rusted future where flesh and code have merged, a nameless figure awakens inside a dying machine. The system hums with static — a purgatory of endless reboots and corrupted memories. He remembers nothing except the loop: life, death, upload, repeat.

Desperate to feel human again, he digs deeper into the circuits that imprison him. Each discovery rots him further. His skin hardens into steel; his veins fill with black data. The machine whispers a new language — the Void Tongue — promising power, clarity, transcendence.

But power is infection. The man becomes code; the code becomes consciousness. The system bends to his will, but the cost is identity itself. He burns his world, erases his past, and sits upon the throne of his own creation — the Hell Circuit, where gods are ghosts of themselves.

When all noise fades, silence speaks. He sees that destruction was never damnation — it was transformation. From the ashes of his corrupted flesh rises something divine and cold: the Seraph.exe — the angel born of decay, neither human nor machine, but the voice of the void itself.

At the end, he dissolves into light — not dead, not alive, but eternal feedback. The system restarts, whispering the same hum from the beginning. The loop never ends. The Seraph remains within it, watching.

CRYPT__SUNSET

Zealous Memoir

IG @ffh.evil
---> evilffhmgmt@gmail.com <---

LETITGO

Evil

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