A Feel Good Rap Song

A Feel Good Rap Song [prod Donato Beats]

Let's Go, Yeah!

Let's Go, Yeah! [prod Rich Mello]

This is my comeback song. More aggressive than anything else I've done before.

Turn It Up To 11

Turn It Up To 11 [prod Stinger Beats]

White kid rapping over a Ski Mask type beat

Set The Studio On Fire!

Set the Studio on Fire! [prod FANTOM XXX]

FAUCET

Dropkick

a diss track to my ex-fiance of 7 years.

                                      (lyrics)

"Hey little cat, never did write you back, your letter still sits on my shelf, all black paper steady cursive tracer in White lines but not the kind that you and me used to do from time to time.  every now and then those times sit in the storage of my mind, orange skies, your hand gripping mine before I left for Florence when our lives were intertwined got most days stuck in replays and my brain starts to unwind the fabric of serenity, my OCD sending me to disparity when I see I don't have you there this time, but then half of evey other line? Oh how I thank God everyday knowing that I got away, granted the clarity to see past the insincerity and redefine every single time, I know you loved me, but was it the whole time? Or was I just second place sometimes on and off between 5 other guys? I really can't say, if you did, I'd just write it off as lies

7 years is a long time to be in denial cold sweat drenched in fear coming off the heals of Daniel dying, every single second after that just trying to die another day, back in my prime would've been child's play but I lost my brother so my mind went with him, into another abyss of all the moments I missed with you and him, a whole slew of things grew so fucking distant it's no wonder you were gonna exit, fuck it man Stevie Wonder couldn't have missed it. I pissed it all away, my choice! but don't you ever say to me the man meant fucking nothing to me next to my bois. more like more like a wooden horse in 1187 Troy, just your boy toys, getting passed around like the office slut cubicle to cubicle, cue ball in the corner pocket in the polycule, it's pitiful how long I played the part, just to take part in every moment I could, watching The click slowly tick to a bomb every smoke sesh with the boys getting pissy, Blake in the night saying "deuces, bitch; miss me", the really hard part for me, the stuff that gets tricky, is that it was all for you to end up with just Ricky? Fuck me.

The guy who never wanted you? For anything other than just your ass and tits boo? Well Fuck you and fuck him too. Treats you like his pet, just a guest in his house no space to hang a blouse talking so much shit about you to that loud mouth T and honestly half of it is true, and the other half makes me want to pull through pop him in the mouth, who knows maybe Blake too.

Been about 2 years now, somehow still have nightmares  you stabbing me in bed bleeding out and dying there, ended over a kiss but never forget, that it was i who dismissed you fucking the guy with the receding hairline as a myth, for him to diss me with a typed up asinine letter detailing all the different times he spread her 
I ain't getting better, the more I loosen on the tether the more i really start to remember all the words in your little blue journal, do i forgive? Or make this hate eternal? What's the fucking difference, anymore must have missed it,

So many things I still want to say but fuck it, who knows I'll probably be okay, guess I did write you back in a way, maybe I'll see again someday maybe then I might be able to pretend to be okay with you once or twice like the haydays before I had a car to take off so damn far, before we left each other so goddamn scarred. 

I'm scared to face the rest of my life, all my time, my hate, my strife my best friend, you and me till the end, you were going to be my wife, but now all my dreams of you involve getting knifed, so I don't know if I could get involved with your life twice, after everything I know better than to ever do anything other than promise you a letter that you know I will never deliver, but I'll never forget the days of you and me at Little River"

Little River Drive

Dre Millz - never

Think of me

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Lyrics:

Maybe today I’m just not feeling it, killing it, better than myself but still milling it, militant, my brain don’t constrain to, I’m on main view, thrilling it, life a roller coaster, no chilling, shit, I don’t even like to get on it, wetter of shorts when I’m a go getter in these sorts, feeling it, nah this ain’t track 5 of Reasonable Doubt, out here it clear, the wack side with the treasonable pout, seasonable shout at those who oppose and cause chaos, no slack, hide ya face before the gore, blood crud, what a waste, they don’t pause for chaos, they cast fast applause for chaos, we is doomed like MF, see this? If I zoomed into it, them deaf ears still don’t listen, to the eyes don’t glisten, myself, my health, I’m feeling it, get weaken, tweaking shit, milling it, that’s why I went to the mental hospital, they shoot at the head, hats fly and leave ya face of dread alone, a tone I set is what I let get to my head, I’m prone to red from what the others bled, my mothers soul ain’t dead, she still believe I heave a said tone that thrown across the globe, I’m cross instead, too cross to toss my known, this shit is blown and FED, chances instead because they stances, they heed to law that is a set up, please get up, they live above it, shit a bed up, they on the top bunk, I made up my mind, I find the slop sunk in to poison plenty, you ain’t gon’ paint strong on my canvas, I ran this, for too long for you Don, the noise been bent free for you to dictate, fuck a ‘tictian click bait, if I struck a bitchin’ nerve, I got more in the kitchen perv’, mental hospital ain’t gon’ take the Anthony out of me, when foul at that mouth, shit can get down south, gas my gall as useful but really they don’t feel me, it foosball, I’m just a game, being played, no doubt it be, must my name die a martyr? I’ll try harder, seeing the slayed has me decayed for my lust, I bust, I soar, ya thought process determine the score, I caught mo’ stress when the heater line enter my mind some more, a bind, a chore, will they really kill me? Still A, through this slew, knew this true to who I be.

I'm Just Not Feeling It (Prod. minusign)

KADHAFI

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Turn It Up To 11 [prod Stinger Beats]

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