Yo, listen up, this ain't no fairy tale, it's my hell in a cell,
Québec City streets turned nightmare, where the shadows swell.
I was slangin' pills, synthetics poppin' like fireworks in July,
Till these three beasts rolled up, eyes glowin', ready to make me cry.
First off, two giants, Jimmy and Johnny, built like tanks on paws,
Franky the runt barkin' orders, settin' off their jaws.
They in full leather, patches flashin'—Hells Angels, Raccoon City crew,
Bottom rocker "Raccoon City," top "Hells Angels," skull and wings too.
Spleen says "Shiva," diamond "0.1%," colors red and white blaze,
Bustin' through my door like T-Virus rage, leavin' me in a daze.
They knew every spot—under the floor, in the walls, behind the fridge,
Sniffed out my stash like pros, no mercy, no bridge.
Took all the chems, the meth, the tabs, the synthetic fire,
Left me with weed, hash, shrooms, opium—plant-based empire.
Counted my cash, precise as hell, snatched 10% for the Québec due,
Said, "Pay up or face the squirrels, punk—we watchin' you."
Feed the surveillance squirrels? I laughed, thought I was tough, no fear,
Ignored those bushy-tailed spies, sippin' my beer.
But oh man, they came back swingin', iced my porch with frozen spite,
Raided my pad, stole all the nuts, acorns gone in the night.
Woke me from dead sleep, cayenne pepper blast to the face,
Burnin' eyes, chokin' lungs, squirrels dancin' in the haze.
Bling-wearin' rodents, chains and rings, aggressive as hell,
Jumpin' from trees, bitin' ankles, turnin' my life to a spell.
Public plaza attack, they swarmed like a furry storm,
Nippin' at heels, scratchin' arms, leavin' me torn.
I ran screamin' to the cop shop, beggin' for shield,
"Squirrels after me! Giants in vests! This ain't no drill!"
Babblin' my sins, admittin' the deals they never knew,
Local slanger spillin' guts, PTSD breakin' through.
Now I'm locked in this cage, starin' at walls that close in tight,
Refusin' to call it a dream, but giants and squirrels? That can't be right.
T-Virus twisted 'coons, enforcin' the Atlantic Union law,
Replacin' my poison with nature's high, leavin' me raw.
Yo, Jimmy's rage, Johnny's silence, Franky's sly command,
Turned my empire to dust, with a paw-print brand.
Squirrels in bling, watchin' every move I make,
Hauntin' my nights, keepin' me wide awake.
Québec City's fallin' to this furry regime,
Montréal city-state, NL joinin' the dream.
But me? I'm done, shattered soul in this pen,
Prayin' for peace, but the nightmares won't end.
Crazy? Yeah, but it's real—feed the squirrels or pay the price,
In this T-Virus world, where beasts rule the vice.

Local shift.

More than 150 songs are uploaded every day. Follow us.
[Verse]

Sneakers scuff the pavement, paint splatter on the wall

Echoes of the laughter bounce like rubber balls

Juggling dreams, two hands, one heart, no net

Corner store philosophy, debts we ain't paid yet



Dodge the potholes, rhythms in the street cracks

Graffiti hieroglyphics, truth in the spray blacks

Shorty flipping cards, fortune in the shuffle

Cops lurking heavy, tension in the muscle



[Chorus]

Concrete confetti, life ain't steady

Dancing through the chaos, we ain't ever ready

Laugh through the madness, bold and petty

Concrete confetti, throw it when you're sweaty



[Verse 2]

Churro cart aroma, cinnamon in the air

Grandma on the stoop, wisdom in her glare

Hustlers on the block trading stories for clout

Echo of a boombox, the city's heartbeat shout



Slap-boxing shadows, fighting off the stress

Crowns made of cardboard, kings of the mess

Ice cream truck melody, hypnotic and sweet

Life's a mixtape, spinning on repeat



[Bridge]

Flicker of the streetlights, stage for the dreamers

Broken glass diamonds, sparkle for believers

Every scar a medal, every bruise a verse

Concrete symphony, blessings in the curse

Concrete Confetti

TAKE ME HOME TO HEAVEN
OR GIVE ME MY TRUE DREAM REALITY LIFE
by Brent James Schoning

Take Me Home to Heaven or Give Me My True Dream Reality Life is an album born from longing—the honest, human desire to belong somewhere that feels safe, meaningful, and real. It is not a demand, not a prayer for escape, and not a declaration of entitlement. It is a question asked through music: What does home truly mean, and how do we recognize it when we feel it?

At its heart, this album explores “heaven” as a state of coherence, not a distant place. Heaven here represents moments of peace, clarity, love, and purpose—those rare intervals when life feels aligned and the inner noise quiets. The “true dream reality life” is not fantasy, but the version of existence where creativity, dignity, and connection are allowed to flourish without constant resistance.

This album lives in the space between exhaustion and hope. It acknowledges the weight of effort, the feeling of being out of place, and the deep wish for relief—not through disappearance, but through arrival. The music does not deny struggle; it holds it gently, allowing it to soften rather than harden.

Sonically, the album is expansive, emotional, and cinematic. Warm pads and evolving textures create a sense of open sky and distant horizons. Melodies rise slowly, carrying vulnerability without collapse. Rhythms are measured and steady, grounding the listener while leaving room to breathe. Basslines provide reassurance rather than pressure, like a steady hand guiding you forward.

The album unfolds like a journey inward. Early tracks carry yearning—spacious, reflective, and tender. There is a sense of searching, of calling out into the unknown. Mid-album compositions introduce movement and structure, suggesting choice and intention returning to the body. Later tracks open into luminous soundscapes that feel resolved without finality. This is not an ending—it is a resting place.

Production throughout the album emphasizes softness, depth, and space. Silence is used as comfort rather than absence. Transitions are fluid, reinforcing the idea that home is not reached through force, but through gradual alignment. Nothing shocks. Nothing rushes. The music trusts the listener to arrive in their own time.

Symbolically, Take Me Home to Heaven or Give Me My True Dream Reality Life speaks to the universal need for belonging. It reframes “home” as an inner condition created through honesty, self-respect, and connection. The album suggests that when reality feels hostile or unreal, the task is not to disappear—but to reclaim authorship of one’s life, one breath, one moment at a time.

There is tenderness in this work. It allows vulnerability without collapsing into despair. It allows hope without denying complexity. The music stands beside the listener rather than pulling them somewhere else. It does not promise salvation. It offers companionship.

This album adapts to moments of quiet listening, reflection, night-time contemplation, or emotional processing. It is music for those who are tired of pretending they are fine, and ready to feel what is true without judgment.

Take Me Home to Heaven or Give Me My True Dream Reality Life does not ask for miracles.
It asks for alignment.

Music as refuge.
Music as truth.
Music as a place to rest and remember who you are.

This is not an escape.
It is a return—
to feeling,
to presence,
to the possibility that home is something we build
by staying.

Paradise Rise

Below The Moon

Dropping on apple music and spotify soon!

Engineer: Harrison Clayton

Sanzy - You Do You

Cartoons

Balcony

Wilson Bay

Get Out The Way (Prod. By Ryan Bevolo)

Beast Mode

Clueless (Ft. Mikey, Blak & Tiny T)

Music was removed.

Direct associates can receive old tunes if requested.

New music is possible, not probable.

Never forget to smile, love, and explore.

-Frosty