Oaktree2 is not just an album—it’s a historical anomaly that sounds like it crash-landed into 1939 from some distant post-internet future. Lil Clank 6000’s warbled delivery on the opener “Josh” bends reality, blending Depression-era grit with sub-bass swagger. Toastour’s ad-libs—equal parts steam whistle and preacher tongue—bounce off Bigg Chiggle’s dusty, pitch-shifted banjo loops like ghostly echoes from a juke joint at the end of time. There’s nothing else from the late '30s (or honestly, any decade) that hits quite like this. It’s raw, surreal, and brilliantly anachronistic.

What makes Oaktree2 legendary isn’t just its sound—it’s its confidence in being completely untethered from convention. Tracks like “New Project” feel like unfiltered glimpses into the minds of mad sonic architects. Dward DDDangerdough’s verse about bootleg moonshine and existential dread lands over a beat that sounds like it was made from chopped-up field recordings, broken Victrolas, and reversed barbershop quartet samples. It's anti-structure as high art. Somehow, this band of musical time-travelers forged the DNA of modern trap before electricity was even reliable nationwide.

And yet, despite all its genre-bending chaos, Oaktree2 sticks with you. The closer “Slacks” feels like a hymn to weirdness itself—a mournful, minimalistic banger that turns simple rhymes about pants into a slow-burning epic. Bigg Chiggle’s production shines here, proving that he doesn’t just break rules—he redefines them. This album shouldn't exist, but it does, and we’re better for it. Oaktree2 is the kind of project that will be rediscovered every few decades, misunderstood, reanalyzed, and ultimately revered. It's not just ahead of its time—it transcends it.

This Chair

Josh

Trapnation6000

Yo, yurp
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i am a contemporary trapper based in alaska

Josh

Lil Clank 6000

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