cuzz

Letter To My Foes

.EVERYWHERE WE GO FEAT. FEEZI CASH,BISHOP DON DOTTA

.GET THAT FEAT. RICH THE FACTOR

01.DONT KNOW ABOUT YOU FEAT. B

PayTheAmount ft VeniceBoy - SixtySeven

A cultural Sound and versatile sound for different audiences

Uber Ride (Feat. D.T.M MacDuce) (Official Audio)

Suspect ft.jayachincc

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#Stickz #dre #StickClan Daily Slaps , Thizzler , infinite slaps , No Jumper , 
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#DRE FLOW

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#Dre West Oakland - Copy

Artist - Highginx

Song - Jealousy and Envy 

Produced by L-Finguz and Paper & Ink

Recorded at Track 9 Studio in Torrance Ca

Mixed and Mastered by Big Boo

Jealousy and Envy (Prod. L-Finguz)

Milan's World

Intro With Milan

"German HipHop carries the pain of lost love — every verse bleeds memory and truth. In the beat echoes heartbreak, turning sorrow into lyrical strength."

Kein Zurück (Other Love)

Cold beat knocking while the fridge light dims
Receipts on the counter folded up like hymns
Price tags sharp, carving lines in the week
And the turkey on the table costs more than we speak

Yeah, grocery bags heavy but the wallet is thin
Panier plein, compte vide — that’s the state we’re in
We stretch every dollar like elastic grief
Inflation eating all the leftovers beneath
Bills stack tall like they’re building a fort
Every month feel shorter, every wage run short
Gas pump laughing while the needle stays low
Turkey in the cart but the pockets say no
Canned goods rising like they training for war
Cold aisle hum echoing debts at the door
We coupon clip like survival craft
And the feast on the table’s just photographed
Turkey looks rich in a broke-down home
Golden skin shining on a pay-by-phone
Inflation’s the monster at the end of the hall
Takes a bite from the meal, takes the joy from it all

Inflation cooks the rest while the week rewinds
Turkey on the plate but the debt still binds
Panier plein, compte vide, story defined
We survive one meal with a broke-down mind

Rent late, landlord tapping like snare drums hit
Work hours doubled but the pay don’t fit
Groceries ring up like a punch in the chest
Inflation bouffe nos restes while we fake our best
We slice the turkey thin, make it last all week
Stretch every grain, live quiet, speak meek
Kids ask why the treats don’t show
We blame the season but the truth runs low
Stores mark up, call it “holiday cheer”
Same old trick dressed up each year
Wage freeze colder than the freezer door
And the fridge light flicker like it can’t take more
We grind two jobs for the basic plate
Call it “hustle life”, but it smells like fate
Turkey dinner staged for a family photo
Behind the smile is a fiscal no-go

Inflation cooks the rest while the week rewinds
Turkey on the plate but the debt still binds
Panier plein, compte vide, story defined
We survive one meal with a broke-down mind

Night falls quiet on a half-paid bill
Pockets feel empty though the cart looked filled
We pack leftovers like we packing fear
Stretching every portion through the end of the year
We freeze each piece like a memory saved
But the cost behind it leaves the joy enslaved
Turkey bones piled like the math we owe
And the grease on the pan’s just another blow
We talk “gratitude”, sure — but the truth is cold
Hard to praise blessings when the heat gets sold
Inflation’s a shadow in the kitchen tile
Follows every step, steals every mile
We look at the feast like a guilty win
Cause the table’s full but the bank stays thin

Inflation cooks the rest while the week rewinds
Turkey on the plate but the debt still binds
Panier plein, compte vide, story defined
We survive one meal with a broke-down mind

Beat fades slow while the numbers climb
We chew through the moment but we’re buying time
Turkey cooling down, hope running dry
Inflation at the table and it won’t say bye

Inflation Turkey

Choirs hum low in the winter air
Lights in the market shine everywhere
But God sees the tables where the cold wind pours
Empty plates at home, full shelves in the stores

Mama’s hands tremble on the countertop steel
She prays for a blessing but she still skips meals
Kids draw angels on the back of receipts
While the heater coughs smoke in the frozen streets
Billboards glowing like a holy parade
Selling joy in a box we can’t afford made
We walk past aisles like a silent procession
But the price tags laugh at a broke man’s confession
God sees the hunger in the lines on her face
Sees the empty pot simmer with quiet grace
But grace alone won’t fill up the pan
And the fridge hums low like a tired old fan
Corner choir singing “hold on, child”
But hope feels thin in the winter wild
Prayers get whispered in the midnight cold
But the cupboards stay bare and the truth stays bold

God sees the empty plates, the hopes that bend
Full stores shining while the nights don’t end
Prayers don’t fill the fridge, though we try each day
We’re singing hallelujah with bills to pay

Market doors open like cathedral gates
But the blessing inside never matches our fates
Strangers grab feasts stacked high in their carts
While we stretch soup thin with trembling hearts
Gospel on the radio says “you’re not alone”
But it’s hard when the hunger hits straight to the bone
Mama warms water like it’s something to taste
And we bow our heads just to hide the waste
Receipts pile up like a mountain of proof
We praise the Lord under a leaking roof
We don’t crave riches or a gold-lined floor
Just enough to keep hunger from the front door
Shelves shine bright with the world’s excess
But abundance don’t cross our home address
Still we lift our voices in a cracked amen
Cause faith is the only thing we still own then

God sees the empty plates, the hopes that bend
Full stores shining while the nights don’t end
Prayers don’t fill the fridge, though we try each day
We’re singing hallelujah with bills to pay

Streetlights flicker on the broke man’s choir
Hands raised high but the world’s on fire
We march past windows full of plenty and more
Knowing none of that feast’s reaching our door
But we keep on singing with what we’ve got left
Even if the season feels cold and bereft
Kids hum gospel like a promise of dawn
Even when the night drags too long
God hears the hunger in the back of the hymn
And the whispered fear that the light grows dim
Fridge door opens with a hollow sound
Echo of a table where hope’s unbound
We hold each other when the cupboards go slack
Cause love fills places that food won’t pack
Still we pray softly, though the truth stays raw
That empty plates don’t mean we’re unseen by God

God sees the empty plates, the hopes that bend
Full stores shining while the nights don’t end
Prayers don’t fill the fridge, though we try each day
We’re singing hallelujah with bills to pay

.EVERYWHERE WE GO FEAT. FEEZI CASH,BISHOP DON DOTTA

Keep it Chuby Ent.

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