jaytoanti - secret ways (prod.1eworld)

Stay Awake is a raw, unfiltered look at modern survival through the eyes of an exhausted parent who's been up for three days straight. Over haunting production that shifts from minimal trap to orchestral intensity, the track dismantles the glorification of corruption and "hustle culture," revealing it as expensive escapism rather than strength. 

With a soulful female hook contrasting hard-hitting verses, the song calls out how the system benefits when people mistake numbness for toughness and avoidance for rebellion. We know the games rigged; this is an expose of how even the supposed resistance has been weaponized against us.

The real power lies in its central message: true courage is staying present and awake while the world chooses to sleep. This is conscious rap that doesn't preach but simply tells the truth about what it costs to stay human in an inhuman system. Human Lyrics. Beats and production with AI.

Stay Awake[Explicit]

Written, performed, mixed and mastered by Cozmo Jethro.
Featuring my daughter, Lydia Matamoros-Lapp.
Beat by Auditory Ecstasy https://soundcloud.com/auditory-ecstasy, remixed by Cozmo Jethro.
Album art created in Image Creator by Microsoft Designer and Canva.

Hit it Dad!

Mannn another summer down.
In the Pacific Northwest we go to town.
Summer 25 revive what we does.
Next installment of the summer that was. 

It started, I DJed my first wedding.
Then DJ Real visited from Australia.
Traveled to Chicago, college visit for Lydia.
Crissy’s birthday bash ha ha aw yea!

11th wedding anniversary at a mansion.
A family member passed way too young.
All summer me and Nasty collaboration.

Now sit back relax, take a trip with us.
Me and Lydia flippin the rhymes.
Let’s relive this summer one more time.

Summer I drove my dad back and forth.
To the Bamboo Garden where we both work.
Windows rolled down.
Feel the summer breeze.
Life in the rhythm, takin it with ease.

Me and my dad got that beat on repeat.
Ridin to work in that summer heat.
Feel the vibe, feel the flow, bass so deep.
Life in the rhythm takin it with ease.

Summer started, DJed my first wedding.
Crissy’s friend Jennifer marrying Urlet.
I ran the console and played the jams.
Up in that church, we rocked it, dayam!

The next day DJ Real from Australia.
Here in the flesh, and lemme tell ya.
He traveled with his daughter to the West Coast.
Hung with us in Portland, chillin the most.

Comraderie of one of my favorite collaborators.
Was immediate and we bonded to the beat.
Then off to Chicago the very next week.
Dropped Lydia off at college 2 weeks.

Then in Chicago we stayed with great friends.
From way back when, Mike and Randee, aw yea!

Summer I drove my dad back and forth.
To the Bamboo Garden where we both work.
Windows rolled down.
Feel the summer breeze.
Life in the rhythm, takin it with ease.

Me and my dad got that beat on repeat.
Ridin to work in that summer heat.
Feel the vibe, feel the flow, bass so deep.
Life in the rhythm takin it with ease.

50 Years my wife has been live.
Had a bash at Skate Haven Farm, that’s fly.
Elle and her band, came and rocked the house.
The Hidden Gems, yo, lit it up, wow!

Our friends and fam, party on our property.
Unforgettable 50th birthday.

Whole fam went to Seattle to say goodbye,
To a family member, celebrate his life.
He was cut short at 49 years old.
Rest in peace Curtis Paris, you lived life bold.

Then came me and Crissy’s wedding anniversary.
At a mansion like g g g g Gatsby.
17000 square feet to ourselves,
Aint gonna say what happened, but dayam, welllll.

Summer I drove my dad back and forth.
To the Bamboo Garden where we both work.
Windows rolled down.
Feel the summer breeze.
Life in the rhythm, takin it with ease.

Me and my dad got that beat on repeat.
Ridin to work in that summer heat.
Feel the vibe, feel the flow, bass so deep.
Life in the rhythm takin it with ease.

So 2025 was the summer that was.
Sayin goodbye to fam.
Celebratin milestones.
Celebratin life as we all get older.
Live up every summer until it’s over!

Summer I drove my dad back and forth.
To the Bamboo Garden where we both work.
Windows rolled down.
Feel the summer breeze.
Life in the rhythm, takin it with ease.

Me and my dad got that beat on repeat.
Ridin to work in that summer heat.
Feel the vibe, feel the flow, bass so deep.
Life in the rhythm takin it with ease.

Summer 2025. Yea.
Me and Lydia getting live!

The Summer That Was 2025 (feat. Lydia) (Prod. Auditory Ecstasy)

Wish these words were just echoes Of real conversations, Journal entries I fondly recall— Lived revelations. I write and I write, til it Reads like déjà vu, But this the first time I'm hearing it— Not really sure Who's speaking to who.

I compose verses like prayers, Petitions, the repetitions like a ritual Might replace what never was, make a memory out of hot air, Might just feel real enough to fill The space you left where words were Meant to be.

People leave so much silence Between each other, Bodies 
sprawled across the battlefield, Too many of our wounded, We leave less than we were, Neither side refused to yield, Only retreated to rebuild, But if it's lost it can only be recovered,
The wounded can only be healed,
No one can replace another. We leave the scene like a graveyard, We learn to abandon ourselves When overpowered—only means of surviving.

Others build an invisible wall, Bricks baked in rage and hate, Mortar of omissions, Can't see out, built too tall. Or maybe it was always there, Just never got close enough To even care... So much thought, so much felt, Every heartbeat like a finger on a key— A typewriter typing Scrolls stored on shelves No one will ever read. Waiting to be received, Stale air intercedes better than a vacuum left By words that can't be summoned, Can't be heard, won't be believed.

We all hold more secrets Than the Vatican archives, Language lives in our DNA, From day one they've tried To bar the doors, turn our nature From a key into a cage, Condition us to hide, To fear what we feel inside, Rather stop looking than Reject our very essence, Our true life, Once, twice, thrice— Eternally, So we compromise.

I don't measure relationships in time— Sometimes more time Just leaves more space, More days, more choices To feel we've drifted far away. Like we just met once but speaking freely Might make us closer than A lifetime of just being near me, But never hearing me, Not speaking from your own voice.

Like how I don't really Know my father, or my mother Even though I see them Damn near every week. We can't really see, can't conceive What we can't speak. Can't always speak what we mean, Don't always mean what we speak, Sometimes we mistake maps For the terrain, without taking a step, Claim we're at the highest peak.

Just another shortcut On easy street. No effort at all, Already feel like you know me.

I have so many conversations With my imagination, Holding spaces for the pages We numbered, dated, and left blank. Only difference between you and me— I know when I'm speaking To my fabrications, I leave room for your reality. The show must go on they say, But know, I'm still waiting, Still listening, for the words You speak, when you're ready— Go ahead, just don't speak for me.

Picture that, grown man still wondering If his parents really loved him Or only loved what they thought of him Until he failed to become that. Wondering if anyone That ever said they loved him, Only loved him when he became Everything they lacked. Hard to know, I would ask them, But can't find them, They didn't stick around— Where they at?

Words and worlds might meet when we Treat them with reverence, Speak them with wisdom and know The word is not the thing,
Words require severance ,
between what is thought and what is felt, The phrase is not the full expression, Words are not what they mean— They're more like a suggestion
Of where to look, where to find
A place to meet somewhere in between.

But instead y'all keep reading
Behavior, polls, deviations,
Like statistics must be more real
Than the people creating them.
Tell me, do you feel it
When I say "Dilaudid"?
Does that word hit different
Than when it hits the bloodstream?
Stop reducing me to data points—
I'm not a number, not a name,
And pain ain't ever been the same.

The way you’ve butchered words,
Means a stagnant silence  only way to stay safe,
Frozen, decaying
Nothing left to say.

Echoes

Is it real?
I mean really?
What does it mean?
Yeah I seen your latest scene
Claiming you the real thing
All due respect,
Couldn't understand
A fucking thing.
Hold that thought—

[Young 4-year-old's voice]
"Daaaad! Daaaad!"

"Shit."

[Footsteps hurrying down stairs, breathing heavy]

"I'm coming! You ok?! Be right there!"

[Footsteps fading, running up stairs]

This is how I write my bars,
When I'm not at work.
At work I scribble them
Between customers, voice-to-text
While I'm driving there to home and back—
I wonder if my lyrics show the pause?
Like when you study a handwritten letter
It's alive, can see the breath,
The thoughts that made you pause,
Pressure where feelings hit 'em hard,
The letters that connect,
Written fast or with the careful weight
Of every word being meaningful.

I doubt it, nobody really paying much
Attention at all,
Only paying for fairy tales,
Performances, the feeling of
Having it all, problems resolved
Soul dying, you know they lying,
But fuck it all,
What's the point of really trying?

My proprietary style,
Ain't a secret, ain't a tactic to go viral
It's creation bearing impossible weight
Doing it with a smile.
If I showed every time I got interrupted,
Songs would sound more like…

Yo

I got

Nothing

Running on

Fumes— I…

[Delete, backspace typing sound]

…Got so much to say

Forgot the rest…
Restart.
Rewrite, well after midnight
Eyelids heavy, soft glow, night mode
Digital lunation waning,
Aura fading, time to go…

[Light snoring sounds]

Could've left it there, cut it out,
Tossed the transcript of me living
Describing what's really there—
But there I be.

This ain't profound.
I'm only speaking what you all edit out.
Tired of these performances
Leaving living out.
If you listening
We all wondering the same thing:
Is it real?
Anyone still real out there?
What you think?
How can you even tell?
Do I feel real?
Are feelings really real?
What do it all mean?

Shifting gears like mid-clause,
Ain't necessarily artistic choice,
Sometimes demanded elsewhere
A few minutes, a few hours,
'Til I return,
A hundred starts
Just to start,
Maybe just priming the pump,
Every moment gotta count when
Life be burning you up.
A hundred more moments
Compressing years into
Seconds, got to
Keep up with the times
This century—
I feel it any day,
Might not be able to say
Such things eventually.

I'm just guessing, just asking
The right questions to the wrong
Persons, just improvising every line
Ain't got time for rehearsing—
Hold up, I'm sorry,

Hate

To

Leave,

But.

Y'all ever tried to write a bar
While your son is screaming…

Is it Real? [Explicit]

Researcher, artist, gemologist, storyteller, conscious rap artist exploring consciousness transformation through multiple disciplines.

My music is a visceral anthem of rebellion against corruption, in a landscape where authenticity is often performed and truth is sanitized, I mine some of the darkest corners of modern existence to transmit pure, unfiltered reality. My catalog reads like a manifesto for the sleepless, the struggling, systemically forgotten; as well as those recovering, healing, and seeking more depth in modern chaos.

I dissect the machinery of control with surgical precision. I’m recording autopsies of a dying system from the perspective of someone who's living inside its grinding gears. Where others see hustle culture and rebellion, I reveal expensive escapism and manufactured compliance.

My process mirrors my message: no shortcuts, no sacrifice of truth to make it more palatable, just raw human experience translated into rhythm and rhyme. Writing often happens in those liminal spaces—three days without sleep, caring for a sick child, watching the world burn in slow motion. These are survival reports from the front lines of late-stage capitalism, often based on my actual lived reality.

My inspiration draws from a unique vantage point: educated enough to use precise, domain-specific language, aware enough too see the patterns, struggling enough to feel the weight, parent enough to know what's at stake.

This is hip-hop as consciousness raising, beat-making as resistance, and storytelling as survival. In a world that profits from keeping people asleep, staying awake becomes our superpower. Inspired by artists like MF Doom, Notorious BIG, Cal Scruby, V1V1D, Lupe Fiasco, Common, B.O.B., 99 Neighbors, Glass Animals, Matt Maeson, Classic Rock and Alternative Rock.

Real strength is staying present while the whole world runs away.

Is it Real? [Explicit]

Inspirited In Sight

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