Name: Red Lights & Runaways by Grin Reaper
Duration: 3 min 14 s
Description: Neon nights, cheap highs, small towns to big-city alleys, Parties, girls, drugs, and the rush that stole the years, and the price of living like there’s no tomorrow.

imar - a delusional nuisance

NUEKI, TOLCHONOV - Lullaby (slowed)

Unlodge - Moravia

Now and at the Hour of Our Death (feat. BONES)

FLG003 brings three vocal driven house cuts, blending deep grooves with soulful energy 

BANDCAMP LINK

Player (BANDCAMP)

u&me

RIGHT ROOM

“Perfect Timing, Dad” is about what happens when one person’s emotions take up all the space — when only one voice is allowed to matter, and everyone else learns to stay quiet just to survive.
It’s a song about the hidden damage that comes from being told what to think, what to feel, or what not to say — all because someone else can’t handle it.
Those moments leave marks that echo for years, until silence finally turns into anger.
The story in this song is fictional — but it’s true.
It’s true because it speaks for anyone who’s ever been made to doubt their own feelings, or who’s learned to laugh instead of cry.
It’s a reminder: never let anyone tell you what to feel or what to think.
Because the moment you give that away, you stop being fully human.

Perfect Timing, Dad

Neon nights, cheap highs, small towns to big-city alleys, Parties, girls, drugs, and the rush that stole the years, and the price of living like there’s no tomorrow.

Red Lights & Runaways

Streets Don’t Sleep Pt. II

[VERSE I: RAINDROP WALKA]

another day waiting for death
everyday that i waste on my list of regrets
so i tell myself "it's okay. day after next we'll make all these arrangements to change. you can better yourself."
i know i'm wasting my breath as i inhale
i know i'm escaping my death as i inhale
i can't recall why i'm suffocating
my lungs are failing

[VERSE II: LIL CUT THROAT]

Step into the mind of a cut-throat
Empty streets
cold weather
all alone
Blackness
grey air, just snow
Feelings low
being followed by crows
call list overflowed with hot lines
Drug help, mental, suicide
Feel tired, feel dried and you wanna die
Pride fried, closed eyes and you start to cry
Swear I spent a lifetime trying to get it right
Still isolated, still out of sight
Keep my dreads swinging like they in a fight
I just wanna kill everyone in sight
Take the money, take the bitches, take the drugs, take the gold
Baby, let me decompose
Never names said more shade spit
I'ma see you one day, that’s a promise

Tape

NEW CHAINS, SAME SHACKLES

Grin Reaper is a cinematic dark-trap storyteller who forges anthems from ash. Gritty low register, surgical wordplay, ritual hooks—he bends language the way he bends reality, cutting through fake saints, broken systems, and the ghosts in his own chest.
Raised on cold streets and louder nights, Grin writes for the ones who weren’t supposed to make it: grief turned to fire, loyalty over clout, truth over polish. Solo or with Vee, his sound blends heavy 808s, hollow “guillotine” pianos, glitch fragments, and choir-grade drama.
If you came here for comfort, you’ll get honesty. If you came here for power, you’ll get a legion.

Red Lights & Runaways

Grin Reaper

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