EXP BEAT 01

"Money Money" conveys a message from multi-aspects of money's impact with my life.
(Brassinski Moon Pluck Impulse 60)
*Money Money Money... 
...Money out the mouth
...Money's all I count
...Money's What I Shout
Now I'm having doubts
...Money send my life to Hell*
My Pockets full of savings, stained by the selfish greed, Kept facets running dirty, grow up a hungry fiend, my mouth aches without toothpaste, my breath takes bossy paychecks as slave deaths with bad calls from payed refs, these ducket rearrange your person, counted doubts posses your perception, envied totals deceive the wanting child, bank statements are filling up my files, shelves labeled by dollar signs abducting all the aisles, what I cherished is water marked and styled, never limitless but limited by color art and the country mile, usher in the children with my wishing pedophile, carefree spending prove my budgets rather well, with pocket deep enough to fill your thirsty piggy banks, as if there is no one else to thank, look up caricature flash cards, notice where to rank, stuck in middle class where other classes appear to be a prank, suckered up little inventions shark tank possible extending monopoly tension, will your signature count or be a forfeiture, does your checking book bounce or defeat the immature, hope the mortgage stays toped and not to foreclosure, my composure when my bets on a score, show off my patience and gambling lore, **This rubber bands adored rolling tight the greenery, inflations spurted history's caused some problemed ministries, but the master survive bankruptcy, combination codes locked and never told, my work loads extravagant, lifting O.T. magnificent, fatten up the pigs then plan a slaughter, go vacate & become a armed robber, duffle bags stashed with cash & mask to conceal the treasure chest, there's no method of arrest but I confess behind the curtains with a charitable donation from robin hood earning, priest don't concern turning me in, I'm not a mad man even though I have sinned, and he said may god inconviene into your life and by these dollar signs god'll let you thrive, but the air craft just took a nose dive with the stock market crash, the pilots mayday as the duffle bags grow grave intensions, fight phony notes with counterfeit vision, there's never denial only accept at my transaction, contain high credit in this rich diction, apply my joker mask to payday's mission, every reason I makes been baked by my paystubs, chomp chomping through the green scrubby, counting of dollars enough to grow my hands numb, wake up to my limbs having just nubs, returning the bad grub to regive my money reason, so my counter exchange at the treasury test treason**Consider this cash counting season, where my writing value matters, raised limitless your limited punctual, laid punches adding up to shatter your functional response to the smell of ham behind uncle Sam, receipts are curses that you've written with scams, keep the watch counting gripped in either hand, moneys got security alert, full blown arsenal to level up the jerks that spread trash through the streets, little acts of violence will shatter gold teeth, grilled in the jaw bone exposing monetary tone, signal another loan shark to pull monopoly, jab my claws in the savings there's nobody stopping me, now your formally known ski mask skull in crossbone gangster's here, rounds are drowned arcade feed quarters, play cops and robbers on a montra, mean to taunt you with the C4 on the borderlines of the safe deposit gonna cease to exist, with this sneaky ghost searching out the bliss, I cheer up when every smiling Richie rich is become a raging pissed off pre-peasant peddle, strike a bargain, price tag clarenced up, earn so much money I broke your parents, remained a ghost with no appearance, to haunt the thieves that take what's cherished, reach in my trash and pull out diamonds, from what I discard when I got high funds, and don't disregard the cash till its siphoned.

Money Money

"Video Gamer Trap" is a song I wrote based off all my video game paralysis developed growing up. I wrote and produced this song. Ableton
Instrumental
Blue Thunder Kit 3 – hh c, tom a, tom b, tom b (repetitive)
Hard Mute – G 6, D 7 (Repetitive)
M Tron Strings – G7 (Repetitive)
F1 Riser – G3 (Repetitive) 
Lyrics
Trapped by a video gamer who’s strategic wins overtake tactics, where video kill the radio grammar, and what’s seen on screens tragic, Trapped by a video gamer who’s strategic wins overtake tactics, where video kill the radio grammar, and what’s seen on screens tragic, trapped by a video gamer** There Rockstar’s, Insomniacs, even Sledgehammers, that have sickened the controller so I couldn’t even win, I've been strapped into a stroller where my voice box causes sin, really standing jealous while the graphic stand pretend, hunkered over Egypt aiming to offend with the loaded clips and beside my Doritos chips is my gamer fuel, at best I begin to drool for the duel between me and the fool prepared for screen havoc, the seizure warnings blend into asthmatic, tendencies, no one could caution this flueroflorsent light switch, the bulbs going off with a supernova death wish, bright burst that electrify, the poor minds become rich, my shiver at the sticks leave me in disbelief, over plotted paths of character tasks through dystopia without relief, weaponry is kissing the way to end the living to become a missing person, you miss me, my purpose has been abducted by rigid respawn, broadcasted records reach far past dawn, construct modes and replay fast formulating technics not to be taken lightly, I’m likely never to just succeed, Melee fire become mayday, retire to bullet holes and deaths, but still I conquer and electrify the rest, when I’m** Stuck in a rocking chair with my ears muffed up and wrist locked down, my concentration obliteration to give the other gamers frowns, techniquely flip in me, then swivel all around, dizzy up my conscience with background music sounds, this technic excites my feet with dancing all around, drown my self a mental patience killing zombies hidden in the town, let the bad guy feel my ground, I’ve got artillery that’s been deployed, enough weaponry to make each kill enjoyed, I’m acting out a living toy my minds left symbiotic, then I die with many lives my god this worlds exotic, jam packed in wunderwaffe, keep it anabolic, the rest grow ill in cough and berserker rage, wile I die hard mode and take out the city stage, for my gamertag, and recognize all my achievements with the numbered bottles in the bag, remember all  the streets, short cuts, and speed runs, I’m sharper than the jags, I’m the top gun spit arrows and put my bullets on the cover of the mags, I’m no 1 from adding up the chads, when I’m**

Video Gamer Trap

"Drug Attic" is a song I developed from all my experiences with the use a illegal drugs. Wrote & Produced. Ableton
Lyrics
Lot of people in this world. From up above were little dots, caught in templed mental swirls, the drugs have damaged many thoughts, the nigh exist within the plots of the 
***drugged attic, drugged attic, drugged attic**
***I couldn’t cause manage, I could only cross the line and cause antics, druggied molested little babies kept my soul static, need this game satanic,***
 or else I curbside and grow up faulty, call the world all pretend, that it stands for man for men, and a dollar get you in, so long as you got sin, this mouth it may sound funny, the clock is surely running, the number system bends, chronological it must flow, one by one they go, the world is all pretend that could possible offend, especially amen or anyone that’s pending on the hand of the known almighty, Ill survive the cruxifix and the mass effects, defy the purple rips, and take over lunatics, repeat a need for words that mean to cross the lips**
I’m in a neat politely written manuscript, where the dumpster full and the trash mans fit, when employments totatlly enforced, of course, the system fills our every function, sing this spoiled bastard, make sure will not rotten, hire former hitmen to pick out cotton, make that the slave at work, not a part of fame I only grow biserk, my needs a fatal perk, my hungers a decease, eat the garbage and start screaming at the trees, my nick name becomes a deadly breeze, or maybe that’s my smelly breath that’s kicked in, your door will tearfully adjust to my mouth or my rear end, sorry that’s the truth for my dear friend, with every knock I could only let my peers in, I’m starting to suspect there’s something with this sincere chin** ***
What is holy to them with the crucifix to sport words can surely grow thin and actions are important, the task at hand the fortunes, beware of your barbie doll, cause chucky uses arm & hammer to distract and skip scare, enter your house, the shivers spouse then couple your need, I know that were together I can mimic your creed, I’ve even got a carbon copy to keep your piece conditioned, now there’s not your little mess , there’s only my discussion, consider intuition, you don’t need this meal, you need to run a lap, regurgitate the bill that damages the map, you only caused the trap, I need to play some poker, I won this crooked hat, only shattered bottles an collect the winning caps, if I’m severe enough, I’m unsure but maybe I’ll collapse**
I hate to embarrass you but I’m afraid you’re the Jew I would choose to trash, you wouldn’t just react and play, you would start games with your task, caught you while I sleep, one eye open, no dreaming down deep , just lie broken, token of appreciation for all this work I’ve done, you’ve been too lazy with two legs between a gun, you went on to jack off with a sign from your buns, or should I say I caught your symptoms with prevention, my sniffly sneezing smelled no ventilation, that rear end should be considered an invasion, insane your patience until what your witnessing’s too dumb, grow free mason where this all seen eye is run, defeat impatience and recognize who’s won, that’s a better path than impose ill on Gods wrath, I hate to be your savior but I don’t want to serve the devil, when he walked into my restaurant, I seeked for God’s true level** ***

Drug Attic

"Bike Life" is a song I originally wrote 2010. At the time I was unsure to create it musically. I rewrote the song and produced it in late 2019. It is about my experiences riding my motorcycle and the impact of cycling's culture.
Instrumental
Backbeat Room 3 – Tom-Bright Room 16 Stick Hit (x2) Snare BrightRoom Stick R (x2), Hihat SessionDry Stick Tip - (Repetitive)
Guitar Palm Legacy 1 – A3 (x2), B3 (x2), C4 – (Repetitive)
Distorted Sine Bass 3 - D0, A0, C2(x2) – (Repetitive)
Lyrics
Stuck in the bike life, on the road battle within, survive the freeway, clutch in 3rd gear at 110, open full throttle, til my speed is a fiend, for the bike life,  - no need to Chase, you'll be stuck in place, from the torque of this smoking ace, police surely ain't friend's, unless you count tom and Jerry,  plan nine lives, my hands to send, the rpm gage to a measurement that's scary, split the traffic in a rush, no thoughts of punishments, only make the wheelies blush, just for amusements,  that koo koo at 12 o'clock, spark craze at site of my movement, my go go leaves cars a mock, speed limits grows up illegal shock, don't mean to be safe, I'm a daredevil, got nine lives to keep me brave, with a race level,  *enough womp to produce a jealous jetson, not a jet but my mode is fuel injection, count two wheels one, 4 suffers from rejection, sounds peel off to a rebel in rebellion, with wrist at full throttle, my tunnel minds a spoken folkry myth, a kiss of death to have the cycle flip, across the desert, through the dunes, and rocky cliffs, radiate a message in speed that's needed, to blow the city streets, mph rumble shift at my feet, join the gang we're grown into a fleet, some keep peace while others take rage on the road and create artistic stage, with the customs, classics, stunters we syndicate, the road leads us to cure & maturate pains with endorphins to ride sequl, continue the sequence that only makes equal, two wheels and the rough rider, streets plagued deadly on the wrist of a ghost writer, snap through the gaged limits, the thrills on the road will earn tickets, to a show with H.D., Kawa, Yama, Ducati, Suzuki, Triumph on the cement to the dirt tracks **
The bell ring hits to signal lunch, and my stomach sings the motors punch, Under helmet through the tunnels and turnpikes, point for any under over two wheels to take hikes, the vroom before you know those street bikes, have snuck up on you instilling the steep life, this game isnt a cheap fight, its that adrenaline higher than stage fright, this momentum that carries in a phantom, where need 4 speed turns handsome, and the degree is sped up under thrills venom, to grow a creed up to serve up the speed victim, the accidents that occur will compile symtopms, where the only medicine to vent is reverting cognition *

Bike Life

This song I wrote in mid-late 2019. It expresses my struggles that I've undergone in my daily routines, the common struggle that exist in gossip. 
Lyrics - Not yet typed

Joseph Ross

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