GASHADOKURO X TET RIDER - HEAD IMPULSE

LYRICS:
JUST MAKE 
ONE FUCKIN SOUND AND YOU SUCKAS GET THE BULLETS THAT I SPRAY
ITS A DOG ON DA LOOSE BETTER LISTEN WHAT THE DADDY SAY 
ISSA KILLA OUT THE PEN BUT WHAT PEOPLE DONT UNDERSTAND I WANNA BE LEFT ALONE SO DONT YOU ASK ME IF IM GOOD OR THE TONE GONNA MEET YA FUCKIN DOME
DAY TO DAY LIFE SEEMS LIKE A FUCKIN RACE
SINCE THE FIRST MOMENT THAT I GOT ON MY FEET 
PEOPLE TELLIN CRANK YOUR SPEED
GET THE F OUT MY FACE AND 
GET THE F OUTTA H
MIGHT SEEM SLOMO BUT THERES ONE THING YOU SUCKAS NEED TO  KNOW
ISSA MANIAC WHOS CHAINS HAVE FALLEN OF HIS FEET    A KILLER ON DA LOOSE HUNTED BY HIS  DEAMONS AND LOOSING ALL HIS MIND AND SANITY
AS THE VOICES IN MY BRAIN
MAKE ME WANNA DO SOM STRANGE
CUZ I CANT EVEN TELL
IS IT ME WHOS TALKIN OR IS IT THEM
PEOPLE TALKIN BOUT POLLUTION AND GENDER AND OTHER SHIT AND YEAH I CAN SOLVE ALL YOUR QUESTIONS WITH MY TINI TINY TONE I TURN YOU ALL TO CLITS
I KNOW YOURE THE SICK OF THE SICKA BUT IM THE BRICK OF THE BRICKA THE DICK TO THE CLITTA THE NEVER ENDING SIPPA
BITE THE BULLET OR GET IT DONE 
OR YOU MEET THE OTHER ONE
ALL MY PATIENCE HAS LEFT SO IM GOIN FOR YO ASS
ONE TO THE TAKE BONES START TO FUCKIN BREAK
ISSA RIDIN STREAMER ON DA  LOOSE THAT DOESNT HESITATE
NO HE DOESNT
HE MUSTNT
ALL HE WANNA DO
SIT BIT RELAX WIITH THE CREW
ONE FOR THE BREW THE OTHER FOR THE CHEW

 

BUST A CAP (Prod. SHADXWEVIL)

@deceasedmac @deceasedmac @deceasedmac

DEATH FOR SCIENCE w/ BIG PROBLEM MAC

#PHONK #TYPEBEAT #MEMPHIS #666 #199X

DEATH FOR SCIENCE w/ BIG PROBLEM MAC

HIT THE DOE by JUNTMANE

#PHONK #TYPEBEAT #MEMPHIS #666 #199X

HIT THE DOE

DJ S1NFVL X $P3CTR - DEAD POINTS OF VIEW

OF DA KUT

Happy Valentine's Day to all you friends. I hope you found and have someone to celebrate this beautiful and listen to this sweet and atmospheric work with. This project is very different from what I do, but still I hope you enjoy it and most importantly enjoy my girl🎶🖤

.arima:
Soundcloud - @ar1ma
Instagram - www.instagram.com/ar1m.a
VK - vk.com/ar1mx

LABEL:
MY SWEET GRAVE
Soundcloud - @sweetgraves
Instagram - instagram.com/mysweetgrave?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
VK - vk.com/mysweetgrave

NEBULA

GHOST FLIGHT w/HENNEYKID

still dunno how to mix :-P

lyrics ;
i know there's many things i want
i'll stick to everything i know, yeah i know
its hard to forget good things like you, yeah its true
but i know i could do great things alone, i know

( i know )
aint tryna play in ya face, i just want my own
aint tryna play in ya face, it just feels like home

playjawn

-- WORDS --

Oh, crypteme.

I left the library thinking about Semitic ludlings when Andrew Giuliani crashed into me forehead-first, eyes cast downward and buckling under the golf clubs on his back. Before I could apologize, he yelled, “Watch where you're going!” and about how I was an idiot.

The farther I got down the hallway, the louder he got, and when I looked back, in my wake the other underclassmen had cleared a path twenty-feet long, Giuliani at the end, snarling.

I quickened my pace down the hall, saw a sign for a lounge down a hallway to the right, turned the corner but saw the door to a men's room first.

I ran in and thank God it was vacant so I went into the last stall, stood on the toilet, crouched down, and peered out through the gaps in the partitions. Seconds later a few kids started trickling in to piss, and Giuliani huffing and puffing did eventually run in, head on a swivel, and left without explanation.

Fifteen minutes passed before it emptied out again but right as I inched forward off the toilet, another kid came in and made straight for a full-length mirror on the wall next to the sinks.

Stephen Miller had his back to the wall, took a comb and small mirror from his sportscoat, tidying his small bald spot in both mirrors, not to comb it over but to make it look neat. He slid the pocket mirror back into his coat and about-faced, Oxfords clicking heels right when he quit spinning.

"Show them who's in charge. You own them. They’re nothing."

Voice softening the longer he spoke into the mirror, he was barely whispering when he clicked his heels together at attention, did another about-face, loud click, and strode out.

Oh, crypteme.

I leapt down and out of the stall as soon as the bathroom door shut and crept out and looked back down the hallway to see Stephen Miller in the lounge, gladhanding a bunch of other upperclassmen.

This was the latest at night I'd even been in Durham, and I was worried about getting stranded. I ran into the cold towards the empty roundabout between the chapel that’s in all the brochures and the statue of the tobacco magnate.

The timetable at the bus stop gave me twenty minutes before the next shuttle to Chapel Hill, so I walked towards a coffee bar at the student center.

It was fairly empty and near closing with maybe three people in line to order. Richard Spencer got to the counter, said, "One Earl Grey,” paid with a card, and walked off.

I was the last customer of the night, asked for a coffee and got it for free because they were going to dump the urn out anyhow. I stepped back from the counter and caught myself watching the staff sweep, wipe tables down, and stack chairs. None of them could have been under 35.

I walked over to the creamer station, and it was an end-of-term mess — puddles of coffee and dairy, empty wrappers crumpled up — but well enough stocked to make free coffee drinkable.

I threw away my plastic stirrer and stevia packets and tried to sweep the rest of the trash into the bin cut into the middle of the station but couldn’t because I scalded the back of my hand on a barely-steeped Earl Grey tea bag.

Oh, crypteme.

DEATH FOR SCIENCE w/ BIG PROBLEM MAC

JUNTMANE

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