End Of A Beginning V2 - Intro to the composition 3.28.2021

End Of A Beginning V2

🎵 Who Is the Man They Call Trump - (Lyrics below)
Produced by Strategic Motion

A modern roots-reggae reflection on politics, division, and the enduring power of unity.
This track blends classic Marley-inspired rhythms with sharp, conscious lyrics that ask hard questions and offer a soulful answer: love.

🔥 Stirring verses
🌍 Global themes
🎶 Rastafari vibes
💥 Digital-age commentary

From tweets to truth, chaos to calm, “Who Is the Man They Call Trump” is more than a song — it's a pulse check on the world we live in.

🕊️ Let it be. Let it flow.
🎙️ Follow Strategic Motion for more powerful, genre-bending music.

#Reggae #PoliticalReggae #RootsAndCulture #Trump #Rastafari #StrategicMotion #LetItFlow

[Verse 1]
Who is the man they call Trump,
Turning the world into a grump,
Sharp words thrown from the stump,
Echoes of laughter, then the bump.
Tweets like a tempest, spreading the hype,
Stocks and memes, they’re cyf and type,
Coins digitized, spinning the tale,
In a world so divided, can love prevail?

[Chorus]
Oh, let it be, let it flow,
Truth and the lies, they ebb and they grow,
Rastafari vibes, can you feel the heat?
In the shadow of Marley, we rise to our feet.

[Verse 2]
Whispers of politics, swirling around,
Social justice cries, can we stand our ground?
Promises made, but do they hold weight?
In the rhythm of life, we navigate fate.
With every debate, the tension is real,
The people are restless, searching to heal.
But love is the answer, that's what we seek,
In a world so loud, let the silent speak.

[Chorus]
Oh, let it be, let it flow,
Truth and the lies, they ebb and they grow,
Rastafari vibes, can you feel the heat?
In the shadow of Marley, we rise to our feet.

[Bridge]
So we gather together, with hearts open wide,
In the spirit of unity, let’s turn the tide,
Melodies of freedom, they dance in the air,
With the heart of a lion, let love be our dare.

[Verse 3]
Who is the man they call Trump?
Shaking the world, making it jump,
But let’s rise above, let negativity fade,
In the garden of hope, let compassion be laid.
Though the winds may howl, and the storm may rage,
In the book of our lives, let’s turn the page.
Marley’s spirit lives on, forever set free,
In the rhythm of life, let it be, let it be.

[Chorus]
Oh, let it be, let it flow,
Truth and the lies, they ebb and they grow,
Rastafari vibes, can you feel the heat?
In the shadow of Marley, we rise to our feet.

[Outro]
So here’s to the journey, the highs and the lows,
In a world full of chaos, let love be therose.
Who is the man, and what does he bring?
Together we’ll rise, let the freedom bell ring.

Who Is the Man They Call Trump

🎵 Kitchen Rapper 🎵
A humorous rap straight outta the kitchen. 

🔥 Bars so sticky, even your fridge knows the lyrics
🍽️ From the counter to the culture—this is culinary hip-hop
🧊 Certified fresh, every time

#PlasticWrapFlow #KitchenBars #FoodieFlow #FreshBeats #RapperTurnedWrapper #MealPrepAnthem #NewMusic

[Verse 1]
Yo, in the kitchen, you know I’m the king,
Got my plastic wrap, ready for everything.
Leftovers stacked high, seals in the taste,
Ain’t no food wastin’, we pack it with grace.
Got the sandwich fresh, lunch game on lock,
Wrap it up tight, it’s a kitchen block.
I’m talkin’ saran, yeah, the OG flex,
When it comes to food storage, what’s coming next?

[Chorus]
Plastic wrap, got that cling, cling tight,
Coverin’ all my meals, keep the flavors right.
From the fridge to the table, it’s a wrap, no doubt,
With my plastic flow, watch the kitchen shout.

[Verse 2]
From sandwiches to veggies, nothing gets old,
Wrap it up tight, keep the goodness gold.
Putting in the work, I’m a master chef,
Using that plastic, can’t forget
How it keeps it fresh, fights the air decay,
Trust in my wrap, no food’s thrown away.
Dinner tonight? Gonna hook up a dish,
With a little bit of plastic, I’m livin’ the wish.

[Chorus]
Plastic wrap, got that cling, cling tight,
Coverin’ all my meals, keep the flavors right.
From the fridge to the table, it’s a wrap, no doubt,
With my plastic flow, watch the kitchen shout.

[Bridge]
Ain't just for food, it’s a household star,
Craft projects, travel, it can take you far.
From leftovers to gifts, in the party zone,
Wrap it up right, make it feel like home.

[Verse 3]
You wanna keep it fresh, you gotta keep it neat,
With my plastic wrap flow, can’t accept defeat.
Roll that film, let it glide, no mess, no stress,
Chef in the game, we’re livin’ our best.
So grab the box and get your game on strong,
Plastic wrap magic, come and join along.
From dawn until dusk, it’s the ultimate tool,
Wrap it up nice, that’s the golden rule.

[Chorus]
Plastic wrap, got that cling, cling tight,
Coverin’ all my meals, keep the flavors right.
From the fridge to the table, it’s a wrap, no doubt,
With my plastic flow, watch the kitchen shout.

[Outro]
So next time you’re cookin’, keep this in your mind,
Plastic wrap’s the secret, the best kind.
From leftovers to lunch, and everything in between,
With my plastic wrap flow, you know what I mean.
We stay fresh forever, that’s the latest trend,
In the game of kitchen life, plastic wrap’s my friend

Kitchen Rapper - Plastic Wrap Flow

🎵 Climbing Altitude isn't just a pop song—it's a call to rise.
In a world often pulled apart by sides, noise, and blame, this track invites listeners to see from higher ground. It's not written from a throne or a pulpit—but from the view of a spirit trying to understand.
We don't need louder arguments or bigger walls. We need altitude—where empathy, peace, and shared truth come into view.
Stream now. Share it with someone who could use a higher perspective.

🎵 Climbing Altitude


They were caught inside the echo of a war without a face,
Climbing past the smoke lines just to glimpse a safer place.
The ground was full of shouting, but the silence up here grew—
You can’t find peace in chaos ‘til you rise enough to view.

Voices down below still argue in the dust,
But up here, they’re learning what it means to trust.

Climbing altitude to see beyond the fear,
Above the noise, the vision’s getting clear.
It’s not about control or choosing sides—
It’s who can see the whole and still unite.
They don’t need a crown or marching tune,
Just higher ground and wider room.
Climbing altitude…
To change the way we fight, to find the truth in light.

Lines were drawn in anger, but they blurred when seen from high,
Borders looked like shadows underneath a quiet sky.
Down where pride once burned, the fire’s starting to relent—
They’re trading thunder for the calm of better intent.

Elevation isn’t just the view—
It’s the space to ask what’s really true.
The sky don’t favor either wing,
It’s who can rise without the need to win.

Climbing altitude to leave the blame behind,
Above the past, where empathy can shine.
It’s not about retreat or standing tall—
It’s learning how to see the cause in all.
They don’t need a wall or a louder tune,
Just a little grace and clearer room.
Climbing altitude…
To build a world that doesn’t need to break in two.

They’re not above…
They’re just above the fight.

Climbing Altitude

🎸 Unboxed in USA
Country soul with its boots kicked off.

From backroad daydreams to dashboard decisions, this track ain’t made to fit in a box—and neither are you. It’s for the wild hearts, the freedom riders, and the ones who were told to “tone it down” but cranked it up instead.

Barefoot by the creek. Mud on the tires. Music loud enough to wake the hills.
Hit play if you’ve ever…

💥 Ditched the 9-to-5
🚛 Chased the sunset with gas fumes and grit
🧢 Worn your heart like a trucker cap—faded but proud

📍 Unboxed, baby. In the USA.

🎵 Unboxed in the USA

Mama said, “Boy, don’t color outside the lines,”
But I carved my name where the wild wind shines.
Tried nine-to-five, but the boots didn’t fit,
So I traded my desk for a dashboard and grit.


Unboxed in the USA,
Where the rules bend easy and the skies don’t stay gray.
Kickin’ up dust on a backroad dream,
With a six-string heart and a gasoline gleam.
Can’t cage a soul born to run this way—
I’m unboxed, baby, in the USA.


Got a flag on my tailgate and mud on my tires,
A radio blastin’ like freedom on fire.
Never bought into that cookie-cutter mold,
My story’s too wild, too rough, too bold.


Unboxed in the USA,
Where the hard work sings and the lost find their way.
A little offbeat but never off track,
I ride with the outlaws, never lookin’ back.
This ain’t just livin’, it’s a full-on parade—
I’m unboxed, baby, in the USA.

They said “Tone it down,” I said “Turn it up,”
Poured my truth in a red solo cup.
From dance halls to county fairs,
I play it loud—’cause someone out there cares.

Unboxed in the USA,
Where the dreams get dirty but don’t fade away.
From late-night fires to the front porch light,
We raise our voices, we own our fight.
Ain’t no label stickin’, no role to play—
I’m unboxed, baby, in the USA.

So if you’re ridin’ high or just broke and brave,
Remember the stars don’t shine in a cave.
Break the seal, take the stage—
Get unboxed in the USA.

USA

Unboxed In The USA

💄 Mascara Mishap by Hadley Price is a fun, flirty throwback to those chaotic, beautiful moments that make a night unforgettable. Caught between spilled coffee, smeared mascara, and unstoppable laughter — it’s not polished perfection, it’s real love in motion.

Romantic, cinematic, and full of charm, this track captures the magic of not caring what the mirror says — because the moment matters more.


We cracked up in that parking lot,
Coffee spilled and your lipstick caught.
Mirror check — you cursed the smear,
Mascara runnin’ but I held you near.
Lost in laughter, the world disappeared,
With every slip, girl, I drew you near.
Your eyes like stars, shining bright,
Even with the smudge, girl, you owned the night.

Mascara mishap, girl, don’t care,
Black streaks fallin’, wind in your hair.
You said, “I’m a mess,” I said, “Not to me.”
You were wild, you were real — you were all I could see.
Oh, smeared paint on a masterpiece,
Your beauty’s the chaos that keeps me at peace.

Rain hit fast, heels in hand,
We danced like fools, no plan.
You laughed so loud, soaked to the skin,
That’s the moment I caved right in.
Every flash of lightning lit up your face,
Drippin’ mascara — girl, you set the pace.
We twirled like the storm, no fear of the night,
With every step, oh, it felt so right.

Mascara mishap, lightnin’ flash,
One wrong turn into a perfect crash.
You said, “I’m a wreck,” I said, “You’re art.”
Every blurred line went straight to my heart.
Oh, smeared paint on a masterpiece,
Your beauty’s the chaos that keeps me at peace.

Life’s a canvas and we’re color blind,
Taking mishaps, transforming every line.
We’ve got a rhythm, playful and free,
With each little flaw, I see the real “we.”
So let the rain fall, embrace every drop,
Every mascara streak makes our love pop.

Mascara mishap, girl, don’t care,
Black streaks fallin’, wind in your hair.
You said, “I’m a mess,” I said, “Not to me.”
You were wild, you were real — you were all I could see.
Oh, smeared paint on a masterpiece,
Your beauty’s the chaos that keeps me at peace.

So let it run, let it drip—
That’s the moment I knew… this is it.
Every flaw is a story we share,
With you by my side, girl, nothing compares.
Mascara mishap — our love’s got flair,
With every imperfect moment, we rise in the air.



Mascara Mishap

🎵 Climbing Altitude for Peace – Hadley Price
As world leaders prepare to meet—again surrounded by tension, agendas, and headlines—this track offers something quieter but just as urgent: perspective.

Climbing Altitude for Peace isn’t about politics. It’s about rising above division, noise, and fear long enough to see clearly. It's not written from a throne or a pulpit—but from the viewpoint of a spirit trying to understand.

While the Trump–Putin summit stirs global attention, maybe it’s time to tune into something higher. Because peace doesn’t start with policy—it starts with vision.

Climbing Altitude for Peace

They were caught inside the echo of a war without a face,
Climbing past the smoke lines just to glimpse a safer place.
The ground was full of shouting, but the silence up here grew—
You can’t find peace in chaos ‘til you rise enough to view.

Voices down below still argue in the dust,
But up here, they’re learning what it means to trust.

Climbing altitude to see beyond the fear,
Above the noise, the vision’s getting clear.
It’s not about control or choosing sides—
It’s who can see the whole and still unite.
They don’t need a crown or marching tune,
Just higher ground and wider room.
Climbing altitude…
To change the way we fight, to find the truth in light.

Lines were drawn in anger, but they blurred when seen from high,
Borders looked like shadows underneath a quiet sky.
Down where pride once burned, the fire’s starting to relent—
They’re trading thunder for the calm of better intent.

Elevation isn’t just the view—
It’s the space to ask what’s really true.
The sky don’t favor either wing,
It’s who can rise without the need to win.

Climbing altitude to leave the blame behind,
Above the past, where empathy can shine.
It’s not about retreat or standing tall—
It’s learning how to see the cause in all.
They don’t need a wall or a louder tune,
Just a little grace and clearer room.
Climbing altitude…
To build a world that doesn’t need to break in two.

They’re not above…
They’re just above the fight.

Climbing Altitude for PEACE

A dazzling nod to the golden age of showgirls and Broadway glamour, Showgirl Queen blends big-band brass, sparkling rhythms, and cinematic flair. With lyrics shimmering in sequins and stardust, it transports listeners to a spotlighted stage where every note is a celebration.

When she struts in the spotlight — the world takes a bow,
"Where’ve you been ‘til this moment? We’re all watchin’ now."
Every gem in her gown is a galaxy’s gleam,
And her smile is a postcard from a champagne dream.

Oh, she’s the sequins, stardust, showgirl queen,
Swayin’ through the silver screen.
When she shimmies, every trumpet blows,
Broadway blooms like a blushing rose.

Feathers flutter and swish in a sweet parade,
She can waltz you to Paris, ragtime you to Broadway.
With a wink like a diamond, she spins you ‘round,
While the drummer beats moonbeams right out of the ground.

Yes, she’s the sequins, stardust, showgirl flame,
Every marquee knows her name.
When the curtain’s up and the band’s in tune,
She’s the midnight sun and the noonday moon.

Step to the left — glitter on her heel,
Step to the right — hear the crowd’s wild squeal.
One little laugh and the front row melts,
Two little notes and the whole town belts:
"She’s the queen — of the midnight whirl,
The sequins, the stardust, the showgirl!"

Sequins, stardust, showgirl star,
Broadway’s beacon near and far.
From the first brass note to the last encore,
She leaves ‘em cryin’ — and beggin’ for more!

Showgirl Queen

"Monsters Fly’n High" is pure arena adrenaline — a thunderous mix of roaring engines, hard-hitting rhythm, and a crowd-igniting chorus built to make grandstands shake. You can feel the horsepower in every beat, with stereo-panned monster truck jump sounds that sweep from left to right, putting you right in the driver’s seat. It’s the kind of track that turns a packed stadium into one united roar — bold, full-throttle, and impossible to stand still to.

But this isn’t just an energy song — it’s a tribute.
"Monsters Fly’n High" honors John Moore, a pioneer of the monster truck world and the driver of the legendary No Problem!* monster truck. From 1987 to 1994, John was one of the earliest innovators in monster truck building, bringing fresh engineering ideas and fearless driving to the sport. His work helped shape what monster trucks would become, and his 2021 induction into the Monster Truck Hall of Fame cemented his place in history.

John built and campaigned No Problem!* alongside his wife Heidi Moore — who today is my wife, Heidi Moore Price. This song is not only a celebration of monster truck history, but also a personal salute to a man whose vision, grit, and groundbreaking spirit continue to inspire.

So when you hear the crowd cheer in this track, know it’s more than just a sound effect — it’s the echo of arenas past, of jumps that defied gravity, and of a driver who made “No Problem!” more than a name… he made it a way of life.

Monsters Fly'n High
by Hadley Price

Big wheels spin, hear that engine scream,
Headlights cut through a smoky dream.
Mud flies high, crowd’s on their feet,
Steel meets dirt where the thunder beats.

Monsters fly’n high, under bright floodlights,
Kickin’ up dust while the crowd ignites.
Hands in the air, yeah, the whole town’s here,
One leap away from a wild cheer.

Chrome burns hot when the tires leave ground,
Heartbeats race with that rumblin’ sound.
From the pit lane roar to the grandstand cheer,
This is the rush we’re all here to hear.

Every jump’s a story, every spin’s a show,
Pedal down hard, man, we let it all go.
The night’s still young, and the path is clear,
Full throttle dreams — “No Problem!” here

Monsters fly’n high, under bright floodlights,
Kickin’ up dust while the crowd ignites.
Hands in the air, yeah, the whole town’s here,
One leap away from a wild cheer.

Monsters fly’n high…
Monsters fly’n high.

*The "No Problem!” monster truck logo design is owned by Heidi Moore Price, all rights reserved, and is used by permission.

Monsters Fly'n High

“New Orleans Rising, From the Storm, With Fire in Her Eyes” is an anthem of resilience and a tribute to the city that faced Katrina and rose stronger. Blending gospel soul, New Orleans jazz brass, and Americana storytelling, this track carries the sound of survival and rebirth. Saxophones cry, trumpets lift, gospel keys glow, and heartfelt lyrics remind us that even the strongest storms cannot silence the spirit of New Orleans.

Released in honor of the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, this song is both remembrance and celebration — the sound of a city marching forward with fire in her eyes.

The waters rose, the levees gave way,
Every street was drowning, night turned gray.
But from the silence, a spirit stayed,
A soul no storm could ever take away.

New Orleans rising, from the storm, with fire in her eyes,
Trumpets of hope reaching into the skies.
From broken streets to a brighter morn,
This is the song of the storm reborn.

Hands rebuilt what the waves tore down,
Second lines marched back through the town.
Every scar is a story, every brass horn plays,
Hope keeps marching in the parades.

New Orleans rising, from the storm, with fire in her eyes,
Trumpets of hope reaching into the skies.
From broken streets to a brighter morn,
This is the song of the storm reborn.

Winds may roar and the waters may rise,
But her spirit shines beneath southern skies.
What tried to drown only taught her to soar,
New Orleans stronger — forever more.

New Orleans rising, from the storm, with fire in her eyes,
Trumpets of hope reaching into the skies.
From broken streets to a brighter morn,
This is the song of the storm reborn.

The storm tried to break her, but she carried the song…
Now New Orleans dances where the night once belonged.


#gospel #jazz #soul #blues #Americana #folkrock #indieArtist #storysong #anthemic #secondline #saxophone #trumpet #brass #piano #organ #gospelkeys #livebandfeel #hornsection #acousticguitar #uprightbass #triumphant #resilience #uplifting #powerful #heartfelt #Katrina20 #HurricaneKatrina #VoicesOfKatrina #KatrinaAnniversary #NeverForgetKatrina

New Orleans Rising, From the Storm, With Fire in Her Eyes

Astoria, Oregon, sits where the Columbia River meets the Pacific, once busy with the timber trade and ships bound for the world. But the docks held darker tales too — men were sometimes “shanghaied,” tricked or kidnapped and forced aboard ships heading overseas.

Echoes Between the Rails blends this history with imagination. The “rails” hint at the bridge and the paths of the past, while the song tells of ships, ghostly crews, and voices that still linger. It’s serious, but also invites listeners — and students — to hear history as a living story carried on the river’s tide.

Beneath the span where the river’s turning,
Steel rails hum as the waters flow.
Astoria speaks through the winds returning,
Telling the tales the rails still know.

Echoes between the rails keep calling,
Voices of lives that won’t slow down.
From harbor lights to the docks long falling,
Carry the lost till they are found.

Lanterns lit where the ships were waiting,
Men were shanghied with a gambler’s hand.
Echoes rise from the nights of trading,
Stories cut in the river sand.

Echoes between the rails keep calling,
Voices of lives that won’t slow down.
From harbor lights to the docks long falling,
Carry the lost till they are found.

The tide still beats with a restless motion,
Waves roll on where the sailors prayed.
Astoria stands by the mouth of ocean,
Holding the echoes time has made.

Ghosts of sailors, drifters, dreamers,
Crossing waters beneath the sky.
Echoes linger through steel and timber,
Never fade, they just ride on by.

Echoes between the rails keep calling,
Voices of lives that won’t slow down.
From harbor lights to the docks long falling,
Carry the lost till they are found.

Echoes between the rails keep calling…
Carry the lost till they are found.

Echoes Between the Rails

Hadley began composing music at the age of 12, blending curiosity with raw creativity at a time when songwriting tools were limited to pen, paper, and instinct. From those early beginnings, Hadley developed a lifelong knack for turning life’s moments—both big and small—into captivating tracks and songs that resonate across generations.

Explore the journey and hear the sound of experience at SMXmusic.io.