Absolutam Nihil est
Nihilism Nothing
Alternativloses Nichts
religion Nihil

Superior totalnull
Perfect zero veritas
Das Nichts absolut
The Nothing supreme

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Version info: late beta, no final
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Art Prime

Nihil veritas

This track is a freestyle vibe where it’s really just rhymes and wordplay over a feel good beat. If you listen close you’ll see my need to move with purpose , alignment , & love. 

I’m still new to recording the studio so I’m trying to gauge if this quality is cool for Apple Music & Spotify so drop me some feedback cuz I’m ready to be on the mainstream platforms ya dig? 

I’m gonna re-record with more energy on the vocals so this is just the demo 


This was produced by my guy AaronJ now known as Anawetha ! 

Engineered and mixed by my guy Eric AKA Guy in the Red Beanie

Mic Check 1,2 (Demo)

Go Girl

off the map

SOULJA BOY [JSHXWTY]

YOUR GRANDMA IS A HURRICANE... SWIRLING TEA IN HER THERMOS DOMAIN.  

THREE MONKS IN A RICE SHOP BRAWL  
TEA STEAM THICK LIKE A TEMPLE WALL  
MY SLIPPERS MOAN WHEN I CROSS THE MAT  
AND MY LEFT BIG TOE JUST YELLED “DON’T CHAT”  

THERE’S SOUP IN MY WALLET, I PAY IN BEANS  
MY MIRROR SPIT BACK OLD VENDING MACHINE SCENES  
LEFT MY BRAIN IN A STEAMED BUN TRAY  
I JOG THROUGH RAIN WITH A FISH BOUQUET  

BOIL, SPIN, LAUGH, GLITCH  
SLAP MY LIFE WITH A SANDAL STITCH  
NOODLE GOD IN A PUBLIC SINK  
PRAY TO THE RICE TILL THE NIGHT TURNS PINK  

EIGHT OLD MEN IN A SMOKY LANE  
DEBATE IF DUMPLINGS CAN CURE THE BRAIN  
MY SHIRT’S BEEN WET SINCE YESTERDAY  
I USE IT TO TRAP FLIES AND KEEP BAD FENG SHUI  

I RENT MY THOUGHTS TO A TOFU BLOCK  
TIED MY SOUL TO A GREEN FLIP-FLOP  
TRIPPED ON INCENSE, BLAMED THE CAT  
THEN DANCED LIKE DEBT IN A PLASTIC HAT  

CLAY IN MY SOCKS  
FROGS IN MY SPINE  
MOON EATS RICE  
SOUL TURNS BRINE  

GHOSTS WEAR MESH  
OIL DRIPS FAITH  
CHOPSTICKS CROSSED  
BLESS MY EIGHTH  

I NAP ON STAIRS NEAR A LEAKING POT  
ARGUED WITH STEAM TILL MY TEA WENT ROT  
MY NAME GOT LOST IN A DUSTY SPOON  
AND MY FACE GOT SOLD TO A PLASTIC MOON  

SOCKS SMELL LIKE OLD PARADE FLAGS  
I IRON THOUGHTS WITH ABANDONED BAGS  
BIT A PEACH IN A THUNDERCLAP  
THEN CHOKED ON FATE WITH A BAMBOO SLAP  

BOIL, SPIN, LAUGH, GLITCH  
SLAP MY LIFE WITH A SANDAL STITCH  
NOODLE GOD IN A PUBLIC SINK  
PRAY TO THE RICE TILL THE NIGHT TURNS PINK  

MY GRANDMA SWORE AT A MANGO STALL  
SLAPPED A FISH AND DECLARED IT TALL  
I BOUGHT REGRETS FROM A BUS STOP MONK  
HE GAVE ME GUM AND A BAG OF FUNK  

WET DREAMS WRAPPED IN LOTUS WRAP  
POURED MY SINS IN A NOODLE TRAP  
SLIPPERS GONE, BUT THE FLOOR STILL PRAYS  
I EAT MY NAME IN TWELVE NEW WAYS  

BOIL, SPIN, LAUGH, GLITCH  
SLAP MY LIFE WITH A SANDAL STITCH  
NOODLE GOD IN A PUBLIC SINK  
PRAY TO THE RICE TILL THE NIGHT TURNS PINK  

(BOIL... BOIL... PINK... PINK...)  
(MONK... GLITCH... GOD... SINK...)

THERMOS MONKS

“ENLIGHTENMENT? IT’S UNDER THE LAST BOWL.”  

SCRUB—CIRCLE / LEFT HAND—FOAM  
PLATE BLINK TWICE LIKE A THOUGHT GONE HOME  
DRIP DROP TICK ON THE CHROME OF NOW  
SAUCE GHOST SCREAMS, I BOW TO THE TOWEL  

GREASE MOON FLOATS IN THE SINK OF TRUTH  
MY BREATH IS STEAM / MY WILL IS SOUP  
FORK STUCK LIKE KARMA DEBT  
RINSE ONCE / RELEASE REGRET  

RINSE / RUB / RINSE / RUB  
DON'T TALK NOW / JUST LOVE THE SCRUB  
WIPE / DROP / BREATHE / STOP  
PLATE IN HAND / MIND GO POP  

CHOPSTICKS ARGUE IN THE DRYING RACK  
SOAP GOT DREAMS AND THE SPONGE TALK BACK  
I’M A MONK IN THE DRIP, IN A LOOP DIVINE  
BREAK THE CUP? THAT’S STILL THE SIGN  

TIME AIN'T REAL WHEN THE DISHES STACK  
EACH STAIN’S A LESSON / EACH SCRATCH A TRACK  
I SCRAPE / I SPACE / I SLIP IN GLAZE  
THIRD BOWL CRACKED = END OF DAYS  

I...  
...FORGOT...  
THE SPOON...  
WAS ME.  

RINSE / RUB / RINSE / RUB  
DON’T TALK NOW / JUST LOVE THE SCRUB  
WIPE / DROP / BREATHE / STOP  
PLATE IN HAND / MIND GO POP  

DISH RACK = SPINE / FAUCET = BREATH  
SOAP SUDS FORM THE EGO’S DEATH  
I SEE MY FACE IN A RICE BOWL SCREAM  
SLIPPED ON A SPOON AND I ENTERED A DREAM  

BUBBLES RISE LIKE FORGOTTEN PRAYERS  
SMELL OF GARLIC IN ELECTRIC AIR  
EACH DRIP FALLS LIKE A ZEN HAIKU  
I LOST MY SELF—FOUND TOFU  


RINSE / RUB / RINSE / RUB  
DON’T TALK NOW / JUST LOVE THE SCRUB  
WIPE / DROP / BREATHE / STOP  
PLATE IN HAND / MIND GO POP  

RINSE / RUB / RINSE / RUB  
DON’T TALK NOW / JUST LOVE THE SCRUB  
WIPE / DROP / BREATHE / STOP  
PLATE IN HAND / MIND GO POP  

"THE BOWL IS EMPTY.  
THE BOWL WAS NEVER HERE."

DISHWASHER KOAN

I SPEAK OF WHAT IS NOT AND WHAT IS SEEN AS FORM IS NOT  
AND WHAT YOU CAUGHT IS JUST THE THOUGHT THAT FOLDS INSIDE A MELTING DOT  
THEY SAY “YOU THINK,” I SAY “YOU BLINK,” AND THAT’S THE END OF EVERY LINK...  

NO MAN NO GHOST NO NAME NO HOST...  
THE MOMENT BURNS AND THEN IT’S TOAST...  
...YOU TAG IT “ME,” YOU BAG THE FLAME, BUT STILL THE HEAT WILL NOT REMAIN  

I CALL IT “VIEW,” THEN BREAK THE VIEW  
I SAY “IT’S HERE,” THEN PASS IT THROUGH  
I CHANT THE “ME,” THEN FOLD THE CLUE  
AND LEAVE NO PRINT FOR WHAT IS TRUE  

THE BODY WALKS, THE MIND PRETENDS  
THE CONCEPT LOOPS, THE ECHO BENDS  
BUT ALL OF IT IS JUST A TREND—NO SOURCE, NO START, NO START, NO END  

I CALL IT “VIEW,” THEN BREAK THE VIEW  
I SAY “IT’S HERE,” THEN PASS IT THROUGH  
I CHANT THE “ME,” THEN FOLD THE CLUE  
AND LEAVE NO PRINT FOR WHAT IS TRUE  

I SPEAK OF VIEW, BUT VIEW IS NONE  
I TOUCH THE MOON, DISSOLVE THE SUN  
I CHANT OF “PERSON,” “LIFE,” AND “ONE,” BUT EACH DISSOLVES AS SOON AS SPUN  
...YOU’D MELT THE SELF, THE THOUGHT, THE “YOU”  

FOR WHAT IS VIEW IF NOT ILLUSION...  
WHAT IS TRUTH BUT SOFT INTRUSION...  
...THE WIND BEHIND THE BUTTERFLY  

THE BUDDHA SPEAKS OF MAN AND MIND...  
THE ECHO LAUGHS, THE MEANING MELTS  
AND EMPTINESS REWRITES ITSELF  

THERE IS NO VIEW OF MAN OR BEAST  
NO PERSON TRAPPED IN BODY FEAST  
THE MOMENT SLIPS, THE MOMENT CEASED  
AND “YOU” WAS JUST A BREATH RELEASED  

THIS ISN’T SOUL, IT ISN’T FATE...  
SO EVERY LINE I SPIT’S A RIFT  
TO BREAK THE “SELF” FROM OUT THE MYTH  
...BUT JUST THE SHAPE OF SHIFTING SAND  
THAT SPELLS YOUR NAME THEN LEAVES NO SCAN  

AND WHEN THE BEAT BEGINS TO FADE, AND EVERY RHYME RETURNS TO SHADE  
REMEMBER: I WAS NEVER MADE—I’M JUST THE SPACE THE SOUND OBEYED.

THE LAST RECITER

Leave A Light On (O'Neill Fernandes)

17.Three-peat II

Clock Gon Clock

I AM THE GLITCH IN THE RHYTHM, THE WORD THAT DOESN’T FIT. A FLOW TOO LONG, A BEAT TOO WRONG. I DON’T STOP. I JUST LOOP. GIVE ME THREE MINUTES, I’LL PALM YOUR MIND.

THE LAST RECITER

PALMPUNK

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