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EFAN & CLOU - IF YOU DON'T KNOW DUB (FREE DOWNLOAD) [OHSVA003]

oh lawdy, the big monkey man has gone all Bristol roller on this very cheeky remix!

COP DAT

Bianca Oblivion, Sam Binga & Fox - Sweatboxx Party (Chimpo RMX)

3:AM is a place on pluto 
 - a demo by RIPPYROCKSTAR and https://soundcloud.com/imp_lse

Lyrics: 

peep the observer,
as I creep a mile further,
out the orbit of the earth and see the scorching soil shrink.

the suns heat is on my back,
as I hear the moon sing.
play her a tune on my guitar,
using stardust for strings.

and use the same stars to guide my flight,
through this eternal night,
until I find a quiet planet we can jam it on.

so call the consellations, 
tell them to bring their instruments and their imaginations,
tonight the band's playing!

in a cosy little club.
far side of the solar system,
we're living it up.

every soul we've ever lost is in the crowd showing love.
a rocketship tour bus,
I better keep the doors shut.

when I arrived at my last stop,
I was starstruck.

could barely find words,
couldn't even park up.

cause I aint ever seen a view so true like Pluto's.
I wanna phone home but they'd come and pollute her you know.

(hook)

now on a late night when i'm staring up at the sky,
I've gotta fake like I can see her light nearby.
I wanna take flight,
but i'm shackled inside.

and I can only feel her love in my mind.

and I swear that on them late nights when i'm staring up at the sky,
it's like my room starts to zoom 'til I feel her air.

but who trapped us here?
stuck under the atmosphere.

gravity's calamity, damn it, it isn't fair.

3:AM is a place on pluto [DEMO]

Can I? (Oxide Mix)

BEAST LIVING

National Geographic

sounds of "severe social hardship" 

Lyrics:  

lord bless us with immaculate deaths,
for living in filth,
that even you could never repress.
your people are still living under an evil intent.
if you can call it living, we just call it breathing instead.

but even my breath is leaving through the crease in my chest.
when lonely hearts expose the parts we don't mean to express, we hold ourselves accountable.

flaming, frozen, without a goal,
except to make a change in our chosen skulls with broken souls, rolling roads,
feeling about half as insecure as a homophobe...

or something like that.
suffer without a nightcap,
survival of the ones willing to fight back,
reliable as a gun, i'm prone to jam at any minute. can't nothing motivate like being crammed against your limits.

that's all i've known, so prone to monochrome, and hunting for a pulse in temporary homes, might leave you as a ghost just haunting a bag of bones. 

uh, battlefield behind her eyes,
single mother, she's ashamed because the pain she can't hide. 
plus her babies getting old enough to ask her why she cries.
so she holds it in 'til after dark and screams at the sky.
until the stars crumble apart and all her dreams die. 

prays to never see the same devil in his eyes that she's seen inside his father's.
with bittersweet laughter, 
we pick a puzzle piece of our hearts and take part in this so called living.

so many souls sucked up into the system.
sincerely uninvolved with your pop chart prisons and your radio religions.
bun whoever isn't.
we ain't rocking with 'em.
 
I was raised in the same dirt that gave me birth.
made in the image of earth and came to preserve.
until the day the last is first.
with no class or race.
hypnotising prying eyes and then provide them with a bottle of mace laced with cyanide, RIPPA.

dying inside drifter,
lighting a fire with the same sparks that make brave-hearts take part,
if you hate, then you get flung higher than spacecrafts, in a way,

the man is manic.
traumatic panic every day.
ever since the OGs eyes turned grey when his life went away, now I can't find time in the day to cry or sit in silence and pray,
for my kind cause this place,
is entirely encased,
in a fire that'll blaze,
'til we're finally faced with GODs taste for blood.

'til the war pigs crawling on their knees in mud.
'til the verdict for the vermin appeases the judge.
and the reaper calls his register.

and speaking of i think i might have killed his messenger. 
but now i'm gunning for the sheriff himself. 
i'll use my cypher as a scythe and trade my life for his wealth.

and I'm a, 
mic champ let me tighten my belt,
ay na na,
like frank, every nightly we delve,
hey mama,
I'm trying to show you there's a light in yourself.

so take it light on yourself.
I'm so excited to help. 



remixnewmix2

ira.

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