Rainbow

TYKE is entirely self-produced, self-recorded, self-mastered, and self-written. It was created over a year and a half or so, spawning from places of grief & sadness but also places of confidence & perseverance. It's a body of work that celebrates the unique musical identity of its creator and his eclectic collection of influences. TYKE is a love letter to lessons learned in hard ways.

Main Character Syndrome

stumble, shoulder check the bouncer on the way out
I aint had enough until I lost this raincloud
have it my way like I'm frankie, boy
mom I'm fine, I'm only druggin on weekends
Off the deep end, I aint been sleepin,
Man i'm not done drinking
cut a line, self-loathing creeping
find me a european
call me a spic, gimmie a fuckin reason
Im brown, bitter, and seething.
eager to serve beatings
half nicaraguan, half puerto rican
wassup Trump?
dirty fingernails, a shot glass, a text from amanda
shoulda just stayed home and wrote stanzas
bitch im cancer. bloody knuckles and witty banter
pity standard. write in sanskrit
pander to wrong livin and right answers
kissin on cold women
strangle my old self by lit candle
brace for impact, im clutching handles
check the chip tooth smile
throwin shade like its goin outta style
concrete shame, waitin on a trial
chip on my shoulders, im over mild
over reacting, over zealous child
over worked and under satiated
fuck the world my official statement
you 808's im late registration or maybe graduation
homie this is basic
gravitating on my final straw of patience
leave a kardashian without a facelift
hazy mental, whiskey, denim, and some perky tits
pop a percocet, my pertinence is permanent
proving grounds, poems are pestilence
on my pedestal
im heaven sent

Never thought I’d see the day - - dialogues turnin gray
This talking shit is nonsense; use my eyes to communicate
Shorty’s eyes dilated, compensate me for the time she wasted
No red pill gon save you from the matrix
Agent Smith rocking hoes sans the latex
Hit neo wit a suplex
Fits of violence and great sex; aint showing up without a pay check
cant find my kicks at payless
50 paces west; turn n shoot
On my [ready to die], just [gimmie the loot] - - I’m murder proof
Call me Bishop bitch, I got the juice - - act tough and lose a tooth
In hot pursuit of money, bitches, and yeezy boosts
An inconvenient truth, this intravenous vibe
[victory] in my arteries, reporting live
Recording ordinance, gods reply
Wack rappers sounding so contrived – I don’t know how to lie
Losing brain cells chasing that first high
Mr west told me to touch the sky
4 deep, rolling up and puffing la
Apologize to ma
A sober mind don’t keep me somber, sovereign status strengthened over time
Difference in love and lust - - a fine line
Rather malt liquor over wine
Decepticon hunting energon
Rap divine - - in my prime 
Hoping satan got complacent by the time I die
-looking to overthrow the throne
-show up to hell like daddys home
-rapping monotone, call me hodgy, feel my mind gone
-only the based god can stop me, this the terror dome
-a public enemy, a crown of thorns
The world aint ever getting moved by poems
-but I could tell you some that saved my soul 
I need a whiskey double, order up
Bitch I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough 


Main Character Syndrome

ONODERA