Name: Gone but not forgotten by LegionTheHighOne
Duration: 3 min 34 s
Description: Hard drill drums and metal guitars collide under a dark, emotional vocal performance.

CHAMPAGNE FOR MY REAL FRIENDS, REAL PAIN FOR MY SHAM FRIENDS
Original Release Date: June 20th, 2025

Life been getting scary, bitch, I got to watch my back now
Whipping through the grave, bitch, I got to spin back 'round
Stalking on his block, and I'm bout to pull the mask down
He copying my flow, I had to tell him get his ass out
NoClue off the top (Top), NoClue slitting wrists (Wrists)
Chop his body up before I throw him in a ditch
Give a fuck about your bitch, give a fuck about your clique
I've been shooting everything cause you know murder is what I wish

I've been popping champagne with my real friends
I've been feeling real pain for my sham friends
I had to strangle that lil hater with my bare hands
Ah fuck, I got his damn blood up on my Vans

Bitch, I'm introverted, go berserk, I dig them up and throwing dirt
I pimp the hearse and make them hurt, I spin the block and hit reverse
It's everything I dreamed of, it's everything I got
I've been going fucking crazy, I ain't never miss a shot
Cause I'm like Lee Harvey, the way these rounds connecting with they head
I'll make sure that he meet God if I'm ever seeing red
I got paint up in my chamber since they want to see me dead
I might leave him in an alley with his body full of lead, bitch

www.iamnoclue.com
twitter.com/iiamnoclue
youtube.com/@iAmNoClue
instagram.com/iiamnoclue/
tiktok.com/@iamnoclue
open.spotify.com/artist/2kgOrCaMfDnP4QZ7U2ZNFR?si=8nMafCDtSuefsKEq2JQKhQ&nd=1&dlsi=629d64fc03ba45b8

VILLAIN II

CHAMPAIN

NoClue - CHAMPAIN

Hello, World?

Revenants of the Lowground

A haunted transmission begins...

[The Story]
They rise where the light dies.
In the shadows of the swamps, where banjos fork off like dark veins and the mud still hums with memory – the Blues Revenants return.
Born from static, rusty but never silent, they travel through high-voltage lines, feeding on forgotten frequencies.
From the old riverbeds to broken radios, their sound crawls into every speaker, every socket, every pulse.
Not a resurrection. A reckoning with today.
This is the original blues – rewired and alive, now echoing through your own static line.

[The Invitation]
This is the first interactive blues-rock album of its kind.
Selected tracks come in multiple shapes – raw cuts, looped edits, recharged versions.

You decide which ones survive.
Like your favorite version. Help it climb.

Your vote carries the hum into the world.


Revenants of the Lowground

Ghost on the Grid

Ⓒ 2025 @PlsDntChase.
All songs, beats, lyrics and recordings are protected under Australian copyright law and officially released through River Run Cartel.
Licensed for distribution with DistroKid and other major platforms.
Unauthorized use, uploads, or bootlegs will be removed and pursued.
This is real copyright, real label business—no exceptions. 🦘ᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

Dont Chase The Grave

🎶 FatMatt x GhostFish Radio  

Dark rap • Horrorcore • Outlaw Country • Southern Gothic vibes.  
Matthew Lukac aka FatMatt | GhostFish | Scarecrow’s Cousin.  

Available on all Streaming platforms

📻 SoundCloud Playlist: https://soundcloud.com/therealfatmatt/sets/fatmatt  
🎥 Streams: youtube.com/@TheRealFatMatt | twitch.tv/therealfatmatt  
💵 Support: CashApp $MatthewLukac1  

#GhostFish #FatMatt #DarkRap #Horrorcore #Kingsbury

Demons in the Pomade .m4a

Spirit Guide Me (1)

This isn’t just music — it’s a reboot protocol.
Each track is a mental hack, a spoken-code designed to reset thought patterns, awaken awareness, and merge spirituality with digital architecture.
From BOOT SEQUENCE to CODE OF FIRE (SIGMA 13 EDIT), every verse is a command-line for self-sovereignty.

REALITY ENGINE

[Verse 1]
Echoes in the skull, bones rattle like loose change in a pocket full of regrets,
Sweat on the sheets, solo symphony of screams I never let escape the net.
Fingers claw at ghosts, grip slips on the ladder I built from broken bets,
Every step a stutter, tumbling back to the pit where the heart forgets.
Whispers from the walls, "You fumbled again, king of the almost-there throne,"
Mirror cracks a grin, shows the clown crown I wear when I'm alone.
Pills scatter like confetti from a party that ended before it begun,
Chasin' tail lights of dreams that swerve and leave me spun.
Fury bubbles low, a storm in the gut twistin' slow,
Punch the pillow pretendin' it's the face of the me I let go.
Nights bleed into days, a cycle of "why" and "what if" chains,
Solo in the storm, drownin' in the rain of my own dumb pains.

[Chorus]
Alone in the wreckage, fists to the sky but the clouds just laugh,
Fuckin' up the script, every line a glitch, aftermath crash.
Shadows tag along, pullin' strings on this puppet show farce,
Never nail the landing, always the spark that fizzles harsh.

[Verse 2]
Kitchen floor confessions to the fridge hummin' lullabies of loss,
Bottle caps collection, trophies for the nights I crossed my own boss.
Friends fade like smoke signals I misread in the fog of my flaws,
Dial tones mock the calls I chicken out on, clawin' at closed doors.
Double dip in despair, heir to the error, terror in the mirror stare,
Pair of eyes hollow, swallow the sorrow till it chokes the air.
Schemes unravel quick, brick by brick I stack the blame game wall,
Fall through the cracks, tracks of tears map the crawl back to crawl.
Rage ripples out, shout at the void but it spits back silence thick,
Pick at the scabs of "shoulda," blood drips rhythmic, sick tick-tock trick.
Wander the warehouse mind, aisles of "if only" stocked high,
Supply run for sanity always comes up dry.

[Bridge]

[Verse 3]
Ceiling stares back judgmental, paint peels like promises I shred,
Bed a battlefield, bullets of doubt lodged deep in the head.
Solo jam session, guitar strings snap under frantic fret press,
Mess of melodies mournin' the moves I second-guess.
Entendres double-edged, hedge bets on the edge where I ledge-dive,
Alive but barely, parley with the dark that makes me thrive? Nah, jive.
Turkey in the straw, draw the short one every raffle round,
Ground swallows the sound of my stumbles, profound pound.
Ire ignites sporadic, erratic static in the brain pan fry,
Try to tie the noose on the blues but the knot always slips by.
Drift through the driftwood days, waves of "wrong" crash relentless,
Defenseless in the deluge, foolish fuel for the endless.

[Chorus]

[Verse 4]
Drawer full of drafts, half-baked plans that bake in the regret oven,
Shovin' down the doubt but it bubbles up, sudden gut punch lovin'.
Echo chamber solo, polo shirt stained with the sweat of "almost won,"
Done before the dawn, withdrawn from the race I never run.
Fumble fingers on the keys, pleas to the ether go unanswered flat,
Scatterbrained cat chasin' its tail in the trap I set, splat.
Wrath whispers sweet, "Smash it all," but the hammer hand shakes weak,
Leak of fury feeble, retrieval of the pieces? Nah, too bleak.
Rhyme ricochet wild, child of the chill that kills the thrill slow,
Flow folds under the weight of the wait, plate full of "no."
Linger in the limbo lounge, lounge lizard lappin' up the lone,
Bone-tired, wired wrong from the jump, home in the groan.

[Outro Verse]
Final flick of the lighter, ignite the night with a sigh that sighs deep,
Creep through the creep of the keep I can't escape, sleep a thief.
Beef with the reflection, deflection of the truth hits like a brick,
Sick of the script flip, trip on the rip in the seam, quick.
Alone? Yeah, etched in the etch of the etch-a-sketch shake,
Mistake parade marches on, dawn breaks on the fake awake.
Fury fades to flicker, thicker than the mist but mistier still,
Chill pill swallowed whole, hole in the soul that time can't fill.

Alone In The Wreckage

Beatport

Exempt Trust (Radio Remix)

Intro for my album The Quiet After setting the stage for the fall

In The Beginning.

Hard drill drums and metal guitars collide under a dark, emotional vocal performance.

Gone but not forgotten

My music is Trauma, violence, survival, fatherhood, love, betrayal. My only goal with my music is to pull a few people from the dark. This Is Therapy.

Gone but not forgotten

LegionTheHighOne

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