Systems Vol 4 Survival 101

Recovery

A second take of the track “The Real Flex (Sober)” 9 years clean and still finding my voice. AI-produced beats meet raw human truth about addiction, recovery, and what real strength looks like. No romanticizing, no preaching - just honest bars about the hardest thing I've ever done: learning to live defenseless.
The machines can make the music, but they can't live the story.

The Real Flex(Sober) Version 2 [Explicit]

A raw, introspective track exploring the psychology of broken promises and cycles of self-destruction. The song confronts both personal addiction and systemic exploitation, asking piercing questions about how we treat our own declarations and the difference between those trapped in cycles versus those who steal from genuine creators.
Moving from vulnerable self-examination through direct confrontation to spiritual awakening, "The Last Time" captures the moment between despair and empowerment. The recurring hook challenges listeners to examine where they place their emotions in a world that seems indifferent to human feelings, while exposing how society medicates pain instead of addressing its roots.
With its haunting production and contemplative flow, the track serves as both personal confession and social commentary, ultimately suggesting that true innovation and spiritual awakening remain "too dangerous" for minds trapped in repetitive patterns of exploitation and counterfeit living.
 Fully Human-authored Lyrics. Sound and vocals AI generated.

The Last Time[Explicit]

This deeply personal addiction recovery narrative unfolds like a modern spiritual confession, moving from the depths of substance-induced dissolution to the clarity of sobriety. The artist opens with philosophical defiance—"absence isn't something you can have"—before descending into visceral imagery of rock bottom: bathroom stall confessions, Dante's circles, and the liminal space between consciousness and oblivion.
The piece captures the disorienting nature of addiction through fragmented time perception and the recurring theme of death and resurrection. "I think I'm already dead" becomes a haunting refrain that shifts into "coming to" and eventually choosing "who I intend to be."
The transformation from destructive fire to creative fuel—"that wildfire finally got a place to keep burning"—leads to the beautiful drought/rainfall metaphor that closes the track. Rather than preaching recovery, the artist questions whether the source of change matters as much as the growth it enables.
Sonically, the jazz-influenced production mirrors the emotional journey—intimate, spacious, and allowing the weight of each revelation to breathe. The live instrumentation grounds the philosophical abstractions in human warmth, making this both an intensely personal confession and universal meditation on transformation, choice, and renewal.

Dangerous Territory[Explicit]

A scathing indictment of systemic economic exploitation told from the perspective of someone trapped in the wage-slavery cycle. The track opens with the central metaphor - time as something stolen and sold back at interest - then expands to call out the entire rigged system.
The narrator positions themselves as a "prisoner of war" whose life is being sold back to them, tracing this theft back to the agricultural revolution. They expose how the wealthy build fortunes on others' labor while providing no real value, comparing them to vampires feeding on human energy and blood money.
The second half directly confronts the hollow platitudes and condescending questions used to dismiss working people's struggles ("What do you know about it? You ever owned a house?"). It culminates in calling these exploiters what they really are - demons disguised as businesspeople, worshipping false idols while consuming human souls to feed their machine.
Raw, unapologetic truth-telling about economic parasitism, delivered with controlled fury and moral clarity. The kind of conscious rap that makes you stop scrolling and actually listen.

Time Thief[Explicit]

"Legal Fiction" is a devastating conscious rap that systematically dismantles corporate personhood through historical analysis, legal critique, and moral judgment. The track exposes how a court reporter's unauthorized headnote in 1886 became the fraudulent foundation for treating corporations as constitutional "persons."

Structure & Flow
The piece moves through three distinct phases:
1. Legal Deconstruction- Methodically exposes the Santa Clara County case fraud
2. Historical Analysis- Reveals the documented lies and perjury that created corporate rights
3. Moral Judgment- Escalates to spiritual condemnation and divine banishment

The Core Fraud: Corporate personhood stems from an 1886 court reporter's headnote, not an actual Supreme Court decision. This "precedent" was built on lies, including Senator Roscoe Conkling's documented perjury about the 14th Amendment's intent.

The Hypocrisy: Corporations are treated as "persons" when claiming rights (free speech, religious exemptions) but as property when convenient (buying, selling, dissolving). The track challenges listeners to ask: if corporations are persons, what do they actually believe?

The Real Cost:This legal fiction enables environmental destruction, shields executives from criminal liability, and prioritizes profit over human life while claiming constitutional protection.

Artistic Impact
The track refuses to dignify corporate personhood as legitimate debate, instead treating it as obvious fraud that only persists because it's profitable. The escalating intensity mirrors the moral urgency of exposing systemic corruption.

Final Message
The piece concludes with corporations essentially confessing: "We know it's fake, but we're making too much money to stop." This transforms legal critique into complete moral condemnation of a system that knowingly perpetuates fraud against humanity and the planet.

“Legal Fiction" operates as legal brief, historical exposé, and spiritual exorcism all in one track.

Legal Fiction [Explicit]

"Theory ofConspiracy" dissects how the word itself has been weaponized to silence critical thinking about obvious coordination among power structures. Opening with the observation that language betrays those who most need it, the track uses the metaphor of trees naturally shedding leaves versus hoarding dead matter to expose how wealth accumulation blocks new growth and turns living systems into "crime scenes of ecocide."

The artist confronts the absurdity of a hyper-connected world where coordination is everywhere except among those with the most power and resources. Through rapid-fire verses, the track exposes how language shapes reality, algorithms manipulate our own words back to us, and truth-telling becomes a curse that drives the speaker to voluntary blindness just to survive the horror of what they see.

But the journey doesn't end in despair. The revelation comes that "this universe is built on sound" - there are ways of perceiving beyond the visual manipulation systems use to control us. The track transforms from protest to prophecy, ending with the natural law that even hoarded power eventually feeds the soil for new growth.

Raw, uncompromising conscious rap that refuses to play by the rules of acceptable discourse. This isn't entertainment - it's a wake-up call for anyone who's felt their humanity being systematically drained by forces that see people as nothing more than data points and profit margins.

Theory of Conspiracy [Explicit]

Selling Stories (Revised)

Real struggle? 
It ain't selling well, 
But good stories? 
That shit sell— rags to riches, 
Heaven just on the other side 
Of your living hell. 
Keep 'em hustling, 
Keep 'em tossing pennies in the wishing well. 
It ain't personal, truly wish you well— 
For good faith, make a wish, it's on us, 
Keep believing, only time will tell.

“Oh you little seeds, 
Multiplying across the earth, 
Overrunning the garden like weeds. Suffocating— 
So many needs... 
so little net worth. (Sigh)
We give hope like sunlight, 
Feed 'em feces for fertilizer, 
Water for wishes, 
Why can't they see how generous we are?"

I mean, imagine if they knew 
They only grew to build a world— 
A paradise for a few.
Every breath, every heartbeat, 
Every spirit, fuel to burn 
To exhume 
Life For our machines.

We know, 
We are sensitive to your needs— 
Real struggle, it ain't selling well, 
But good stories? 
That shit sell, lets you breathe, 
Lets you believe you aren't 
Just another body, a photocopy, 
A component, a battery we breed. 
Heaven just on the other side... 
For us, but ain't it nice to believe 
You might get there too?

We hear them, small talk 
Like stunted shadows of skyscrapers— Impossibly tall, 
Only way to translate the unscalable, 
The unassailable,
Otherwise might say nothing at all.
Like, "How you living?" 
"Can't complain, could be worse, 
OK I guess, I feel blessed, I feel cursed. 
You know, it's all the same." 
"Bet. I know living ain't always easy, 
Just keep moving dawg, someday 
We gon' make it off these streets, you'll see."

Sound just like every myth, every hero's journey, 
Every movie, but 
Ain't you felt the stagnation? 
The stale air? 
Ain't nothing moving, world looking more like Suspended animation.

Real struggle, it ain't selling well, 
But good stories? 
That shit sell, y'all eat it up— 
Hours watching digital dreams, 
Make believe you living well. 
And if you ain't, there's ample hate, 
Blame the others 
Stealing servings from your plate. 
Don't give up little birdies, 
Heaven just on the other side 
Of your living hell, just wait.

"Here's your wish, 
(Yeah we heard it when you thought it— Ain't nothing that we miss) 
Coming to your favorite streaming service Next month, just for you, 
Can play it again and again, 
Don't even have to pay per view!"
And... Cut!

"We got the scene, but ain't it 
Just a little too close? 
I mean I really felt like I was looking through A dark mirror... 
I mean they said 
‘Make it believable, optimize for views, But this more like nonfiction...’"
"Perfect! Better to confuse, 
Keep 'em running in circles, 
Keeps them from truth."

Real struggle, it ain't selling well, 
But you got good stories? 
That shit sell. 
Humble pie all we serving, 
Make you doubt yourself, 
Keep you hungry, 
Even convince you, you deserve this hell. Just remember— 
Heaven just on the other side, 
Keep going, we look at you with pride.

Selling Stories[Explicit]

Sick world… sick people…
Medicine... When's the last time you felt well? I ain't talking bulldozed, hyped up, numbed out Micro dosing, hocus pocus, manic focus, short-term psychosis I'm talking clear and well.

Medicine is healing art It ain't just feeling good, going up It's growing in, it's knowing peace Living like life is finally the real deal now Medicine is healing art Not just temporary relief Real medicine makes you whole Not just numb to the grief

I hear so many rappers like they all broke their legs All of them use the same crutch in their bars to walk on stage Always talking 'bout popping pills, mixing lean, being rock stars I can make a killer mix, better than your bag of tricks Random number generator? Nah, random drug simulator Anybody taking substances knows your lines ain't got no substance Else you ain't be alive to rhyme, let alone speak sentences Like popped some Ritalin, took a handful rainbow pills Sniffing snow like it's the winter and you tracking a new fur coat While you trip into a K-hole, eat some Lucy, have a Xanax dream Dawg, are you fucking serious? You even know the difference between Benadryl and Benzedrine?

Medicine is healing art It ain't just feeling good, going up It's growing in, it's knowing peace Living like life is finally the real deal now Medicine is healing art Not just temporary relief Real medicine makes you whole Not just numb to the grief

Hold up, hold up, let me try— New age pharmacist, proceed at your own risk Asterisk: not recommended, not even as a fantasy or wish I don't condone, but it's on the table, so we talking chemicals Let's see if it kicks—got the master plan laid out, paid out Keep it moving, mind the gas, this ain't how I'm getting high It's just how I'm getting past the day when nothing meant a fucking thing Shit—which pill had the ecstasy, which one the ketamine? Fuck it. (gulp)

Real life, can't know what it's like if you always drinking But like, it's just Bud Light, ain't that heavy, right? A few tokes, quarter milligram of a benzo Lisdexamphetamine, Ritalin, or street speed when the pharmacy running lean Don't really matter—fell into a K-hole Flicking through dimensions like they channels on the TV Been here for hours or years? Gravity finally found me On a couch, sitting upright, wondering how I got there Good God almighty, how you come back from that ever the same again? Stood up, threw up, still drunk—never again Until I hit the bowl, killed the nausea Think I might just feel good enough to do it all again!

Living daily like a loop, ain't really nothing change Notice how we all go to the same place Say the same things to the same people But too busy, too dazed to care That ain't really getting lifted, it ain't freedom It ain't whole, it ain't your health It's just a substitute where the soul supposed to go

Medicine is healing art It ain't just feeling good, going up It's growing in, it's knowing peace Living like life is finally the real deal now

Medicine[Explicit]

What do it cost? What did we gain? 
What have we lost? You got 15 seconds— Make it hit hard. What you saying...? Already feeling lost, don’t say it again…

Wish you could remember 
What you forgot. 
Shit, a self-evident desire, 
An unavoidable paradox— 
What we most need to know, 
Need to recall, only 
Becomes obvious once it's 
Been lost.
Maybe that’s just learning, 
Not a tragedy or failure,
Just finding the borders 
Of you as a person.
Then why it feel like shame?
Building tolerance for the same mistake.

Like— I can't remember 
Why I'm not supposed to drink 
This liquid courage 
When you dare me to tell you 
Exactly what I think. 
So I poured and I gulped, 
I filled with fire and I spoke:
"I think you are a coward. 
I think every time it gets hard, 
You run away. 
I think you trade real power 
For a feeling  of power, 
Possessed by a spirit
That diminishes and quickly fades.
It ain’t a sane trade,
Interdependence for independence
Dependent on chemicals. 
Ain't no substance without 
A substance running through your brain. 
I think you forgot what you was 
Before you reached the top shelf 
And said 'fuck it'—because 
Where else was there to go? 
Can't outrun yourself, 
Only sedate and erase What you know."

I remember why I don't drink—
 I just looked who I’m talking to: 
Hazy, mind lazy, moving slow, 
Spirits eating at my soul, 
Talking to a mirror, 
Pretend it don't make me feel 
Less alone.

What do it cost? 
What did we gain? 
What have we lost? 
You got 15 seconds— 
Make it hit hard. What you saying...? Already feeling lost.
Yo, here, let’s split a bar…

Damn. How that feel? 
I mean, is this real? 
Like really real? 
Ain't touched a drop in over nine years, 
Summoned in these lines
No hesitation,
Still remember how it feel 
To be living like there ain't nothing here,
No plot— 
Only knowing how to press "go"
'Cause couldn't find 
The button labeled "stop."
Was it ever there? I don’t know.

How you living now? 
I forgot. Just playing— 
I'm living well even in this living hell, 
Found what was missing 
Somewhere where the bottom 
Became rock.
Stopped digging, 
Stopped running, 
Let the dirt bury me, felt its weight, 
Couldn't breathe, became lost— 
Discovered I was a seed when 
I stopped struggling, 
Shattered, sprouting roots, 
A sapling, a single leaf, deep roots,
Developing a taste for truth.

A different kind of freedom when 
You growing up, rather than pretending Hidden treasures could be found to replace What it means to become me.

What do it cost? What did we gain? 
What have we lost? You got 15 seconds— Make it hit hard. What you saying...? Already feeling lost. Always lost…

Lost, lost can be found. 
You already arrived? 
Then you stuck, you're bound.
They want you certain, 
Absolutely fucking sure— 
Plant you in concrete, 
Call it foundation, 
Wonder why nothing 
Ever takes root no more.
But I learned something 
When I was buried alive— 
Seeds don't ask permission 
To break through. 
Don't need certainty, 
Just need some silence, 
Just need some space, 
Just need some faith,
That if they rise the sun will rise
To meet them. To greet them, to feed them.
As it surely does. 
Don’t let them bury you,
You ain’t their sacrificial dove.

Fuck their totalitarianism— 
Ain't efficient, it's dead, 
It's a stalemate, 
Controlled decay
Pure evil infecting their heads.
They selling certainty 
Like it's salvation, 
But salvation's in the question, 
In the crack in the pavement, 
In the conversation 
Trying to find 
Your way back
Or an explanation.
One world ruler,
It's pride, it's arrogance, 
It's the only true sin— 
Not the falling, Not the failing, 
Not the getting lost— 
But refusing to be planted, 
Refusing to be broken, 
Refusing to begin.

Because if you perfect, 
What's there to be forgiven? 
If you certain, 
What's there to question?
If you can't be lost, 
How you ever gonna be found? 
If you can't be buried, 
How you ever gonna sprout?

What it Cost?[Explicit]

I ain't slowing down
World only going faster
Keep it current, captured.
Caught in the rip current—
How's the shore? Don't matter
Waves beating, sand-eating
nearly at your door.
See you in the next swell
Til then, Wish you well,
From the sea floor.

Just learning
To breathe under water,
Who ain't drowning out there?
Ain't no relief in sight,
We all tryna catch our breath,
Stepping on each other to reach air.

Don't you know every man
That is an island, stands
On a mountain of bodies
How you think they got that crown?
All alone in the middle of the ocean?
Naw dawg, look beneath the water
How many drowned?

I been counting for years
Ain't no end in sight,
More bodies than dollars,
And these fuckers trillionaires.

You got the bones buried
Beneath the sand,
Making the foundation
Crushed by the pressure,
Abysmal in the abyssal, no light,
Difficult to measure without excavation.

Then the ones who tried
To save them, and the others who helped
Conceal the deaths,
Thought their loyalty would
Save them from the depths.

All people are the same
To such villains, expendable
Different degrees of useless,
Not even human.

And we ain't reached the top,
When I did my heart stopped.
Wasn't a person, just a statue

"Our guiding principle:
Feed them hope,
Then watch them die
Upon that slope.
If you reach this, congratulations,
Nothing here, nowhere left to go,
You out of hope.
Good luck living for yourself
As a courtesy, we understand
Here's a rope just in case."

I quote.

Don't know what cost more,
Mapping out these corporations
Or the entire ocean floor,
More shells upon shells
Either or, even harder than finding
A perfect pearl.

Why every corporation cost more
Than any fruit it ever bore.
Just don't assign a cost
To below “see” level—NDAs
And corporate trades, proprietary formula.

I ain't slowing down
World only going faster
Keep it current, captured.
Caught in the rip current—
How's the shore? Don't matter
Waves beating, sand-eating
nearly at your door.
See you in the next swell—

Stop.

You still breathing air.
Take it in. Like a lot.
Feel it, not everybody still can.
Had to go there,
I mean, who else gonna go there?
Maybe something in the air…
I hope it got you listening well.

You really think I'd leave you here?
Naw dawg, I've been wishing well.
I'm on a mission, trying to break the spell,
Casting my coins and my lot,
All I got. Enough? Only time will tell.

They bottom feeders, they catfish
But their world? Only a speck on the atlas.

Stop swimming against the tide,
Stop climbing on your sisters and brothers,
Swim to the side, parallel to the shore,
They give you tunnel vision,
I'm giving you permission to expand your vision

No one stands alone,
Either side by side,
Or on top of one another.

There's some real hope
That's depth AND dopamine
I WANT you to rise.
That's what being human means to me

Fuck those cowards trying to poison their way into supremacy.

C-Level [Explicit]

Conscious rap artist bearing witness to systemic horrors with unfiltered bars—AI-produced beats, human truths from the trenches of corruption and control.

I’m Inspirited In Sight: researcher, gemologist, storyteller, and independent hip-hop creator exploring consciousness transformation. 

My lyrics validate what you’re seeing: the horror is real, your exhaustion rational, your rage appropriate. 

You’re not crazy for struggling in a broken system; you’re not alone in spotting the patterns. 

This isn’t quick-fix empowerment—it’s witnessing the machinery of manufactured compliance, dissecting power structures for the sleepless, struggling, and systemically forgotten. 

Validation before action, because clarity starts with knowing your perception is valid.

Process: Observe realities mainstream ignores, craft every word and concept myself, leverage AI for production and rapid independent drops. No gatekeepers, just consistent creation from lived experience and an aware, parent’s perspective fighting for depth amid chaos.

Mission: Hip-hop as consciousness-raising resistance—beats that awaken, narratives that affirm independent voices in a world profiting from sleepwalking. 

Staying present and awake is our superpower.

Influences: MF Doom’s cryptic layers, Lupe Fiasco’s systemic depth, Common’s grounded soul, plus edges from Cal Scruby, V1V1D, B.O.B., 99 Neighbors, Glass Animals, Matt Maeson, Notorious BIG, classic rock, and alternative rock.
Support the witness: 

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