I love you man, your stuff has always been so good. and this newest shit is like... so good.  good job, youre an inspiration 

this is the last release i'll be making under the name worsethansmoking for an indefinite amount of time. i've decided this because i feel as though i've exhausted the concept and because i want to devote more time to acting/writing which i will be pursuing a career in. i'm not done making music by any means, but i will be taking a break for a bit. rest assured, though, i'll come back better than ever when i do.

thanks again to anyone who ever supported this project or any other project i ever did in any way. it means the world, truly, and i hope you like this last little thing. it's been fun, but this isn't goodbye. see you later ;)

pictured for the cover art is the room i made Funny and Imaginative! and this EP in.

Before I Go

Thank You So Much For Everything

As The World Melts

Fate (I Guess)

What Else

made entirely in one sitting with a Pocket Operator, Yamaha PSS-170, Organelle, and guitar recorded to a multi-track,, don't ask me how

what's important

Raw audio samples of improvisational soul by Parenting. 

Sean Barrett - Guitar
Ethan Zalipski - Bass
Liam Barrett - Drums
Josh Zalipski - Guitar

You are loved.

untitled 28

1. brother john
2. chill guitar sample
3. lifesabitch
4. tribalism
5. vomitbot
6. unconscious
7. valley
8. rhodes
9. lugia
10. death wrap edit
11. double d
12. bill evans type beat

Beat Tape 2

i made this in about 3 hours while sitting on the floor so ig this is a demo

(i thought the card game was called queen's corner, fck)

see yaa (flat tire)

this is the first track off the new record. the record will be executive produced by oh ok. you can see the music video for this single at https://youtu.be/NSJVumN2_rQ 

lyrics:
show a gun in the first act
you use it in the third
but youngin since you heard that
open wide to eat some words
til click clack clocks your ass
then meetings adjourned.
my seething is scorn, it's freely reborn,
when you weaklings wield mics 
leave em needing some more. 
I leave a mic ringing just from beating my skull,
screams leak eagerly when I'm cleaning the floor,
see these chipped teeth, meaning bleeding and more, 
but I reach inner peace when I freak on the tour.
see you skinny rappers looking like Jenny Hanivers, 
illusion of the magic but mummies atop bannisters,
source of folklore but really just rap mannequins.
my raps' adamant, your written shit is saddening,
pull a bitch fast like i'm fuckin zap Brannigan,
catch me at the Vatican, grabbed a few Spanish friends,
you'd think it's human trafficking, they vanish after traveling,
(til you) see me with the pope, boricuas, and some africans.
drunk uncle, bitch, i'm reaching for the glass again,
digging through the cabinet,
itching for a glass of gin,
and you wack bastards can insist that I relax again,
but i'm sinning over tracks til they grinning at my blasphemy.
i'm the stray cat you're wishing would stay back,
I act act as if today's scraps more like a buffet rack,
kids in the kitchen asking where the fillets at, 
I say that just to claim facts.
i'm the everpresent saint with feet to displace sand,
not here to save rap; more like spay rap,
take the game by force and castrate it ASAP. 
by the way I slay tracks, you're wishing I'd take naps,
but I'm awake from the playback all the way to the payback.
sit back with your old ass, itching your wave cap,
this is piss on the stage rap for the kids with a great past,
or the Ritalin faced chaps misplaced in a grade back.
something like syd barrett spilling madcap laughter,
I advance faster and attack rap patters as it i'm paddling a raft through the blackened trash scattered,
aphorisms spit made of fucking black matter.
so sit back wack rappers it's mr. ask after,
all my handicapped raps are trapped on the last album.
yes, i'm a tad famished, but my tracks' raw,
when I spit raps your shit gets backlogged,
stomping out your mother in a shopping mall,
slaughtering your brother he can get a cracked jaw,
bitch that's all,
I've written this filth because I've got blue balls,
itching to toss fists because I've got blue balls,
your man isn't shit because he got blue balls,
come get with the kid, you know he stands too tall,
and his dick thick, 
just like rick ross.

Jenny Haniver (prod. oh ok)

a performance of a live mix featuring vocal samples from kanye west, mf doom, frank ocean and more. sippin' a drink at a party type beat. 909 gang. made w ableton.

As The World Melts

nicholas cloud

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