A dark, razor-edged warning about the damage words can do when they’re used carelessly—or maliciously.
This song lives in the space where secrets become weapons, smiles hide intent, and truth gets buried under noise. Every line cuts with intention, exposing how quickly trust can burn and how loudly consequences echo once something is said out loud.

“Loose Lips” is about fallout—bridges burned, lives altered, and the irreversible cost of speaking without wisdom.
Sharp. Tense. Uncomfortable on purpose.

Loose Lips

A stripped-down reflection on faith lived out loud — not preached, not posted, not performed.
This song reframes what it means to follow Jesus by pulling the focus away from stages, symbols, and spotlight, and placing it squarely on quiet, inconvenient love. The kind no one claps for. The kind no one sees.

It’s about sweat instead of robes, service instead of sermons, and compassion that shows up in the cracks of real life — diapers changed, meals shared, dignity restored without a name attached.

This track isn’t asking who Jesus is in theory.
It’s asking who we become when we love like him in practice.

What It Means To Be Jesus

A bold, metaphor-rich declaration of faith that reframes devotion through the language of leadership and authority.
This song imagines Jesus not as a distant symbol, but as the steady hand guiding every decision — the one drafting the map when the way is unclear, signing peace into places of inner war, and leading with mercy instead of fear.

“President Jesus” blends reverence with modern imagery, expressing trust, surrender, and allegiance of the heart rather than politics or power. It’s about choosing guidance over chaos, truth over doubt, and love as the ultimate authority.

Not a campaign.
Not a system.
A confession of who runs the show when everything else falls apart.

President Jesus

A raw, irreverent revival story about faith breaking out where it wasn’t supposed to.
This song captures the moment when belief stops being polite, quiet, or comfortable — when something real rises up and demands to be spoken, even if it shocks the room.

It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s holy in a way that doesn’t ask permission.
What starts as a confession turns into a fire — choirs ignited, sermons derailed, and a congregation reminded that redemption isn’t always dressed in church clothes.

This isn’t rebellion for shock value.
It’s defiance aimed straight at darkness, wrapped in gospel energy, laughter, and release.
Sometimes praise sounds like hallelujah.
Sometimes it sounds like telling the devil exactly where he stands.

Fuck The Devil!

Vibrant, rhythmic, and irresistibly sensual — “Captured” pulses with Latin-infused pop energy and the intoxicating pull of love that feels more like surrender. Acoustic guitars dance with tropical synths as smooth male vocals carry the tension between passion and captivity.

It’s a song about giving in — not because you have to, but because you want to.

Captured

A slow-burn, late-night song built on tension, chemistry, and surrender.
This track lives in the space where time stretches, the world fades out, and two people move closer without rushing the moment. It’s about anticipation more than action — the quiet intensity before everything breaks open.

“Nothin’s Goin’ Down Till We Come Undone” captures that edge where walls fall, fear dissolves, and connection becomes unavoidable.
Velvet skies, heavy beats, breath-to-breath closeness — this one is meant to be felt in the dark, with the volume up and everything else turned off.

Till We Come Undone

A playful, irreverent twist on a familiar Christmas story — where Mary isn’t just holy, she’s highly trained.
This song reimagines the nativity with humor and swagger, turning motherly instinct into full-on martial arts devotion. Shepherds beware, wise men mind your manners, and innkeepers absolutely do not test her patience.

“Mary Did Judo” is lighthearted, bold, and unapologetically fun — a reminder that protecting what matters most doesn’t always look quiet or gentle.
Sometimes it looks like spins, flips, and a well-timed takedown… on a silent, holy night. 🥋✨🎄

Mary Did Judo

“Yo Momma Christmas” is a playful, laugh-out-loud holiday anthem about the ultimate holiday diva — the woman who outshines the lights, outbakes Santa, and outparties the elves.

With its witty lyrics, toe-tapping guitar rhythm, and tongue-in-cheek humor, this track brings the fun back to the fireplace. Equal parts roast and celebration, it’s the kind of song that makes everyone laugh — even Santa’s belly jiggles a little harder.

Yo Momma Christmas

A late-night road. A heavy heart. And a promise that won’t let go.

“I Drive” is a moody, cinematic blend of rock, R&B, and pop — a slow-burn anthem about carrying the weight of love, responsibility, and exhaustion down an endless highway. With pulsing drums, hazy guitars, and soulful vocals, it captures that quiet moment between determination and despair — when the world’s asleep, and you’re still moving forward.

I Drive

A warning. A battle cry. A spark in the dark.
“Red Line” is a hard-hitting rock anthem that draws the line between freedom and control — and dares the world to cross it. With pounding drums, gritty guitars, and vocals that roar with rebellion, this track channels the raw energy of resistance and truth.

It’s revolution in 4/4 time — the sound of chains breaking, walls falling, and voices rising.

Red Line

Soul with grit. Truth in stereo. A voice that wrestles with faith, freedom, love, and everything in between. Every lyric’s a confession, every song’s a mirror.

Red Line

JMan7511

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