bankknought

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Letter to Myself

THE FIRST STEP

I am the Omega, K-Dot said it best, do not address me unless it's correctly with 4 letters 🐐  Which part did y'all fw the most ❓

INSTAGRAM: official_pharaoh_music

OMEGA (Prod. Maxmizacion)

black & grey sorbet

Broke Boy (prod. Dopé)

It’s time to get what you want in the world there ain’t no maybe ifs or buts about it.

Maybe, Ifs or Buts

painlessly vanquish em
lasic like vanish,
blinkin now im blankin on em
blanket em like darelle revis did
man on man,
man oh man
ill take over this world with less a force than the taliban
from  Afghanistan's sand to the sands of san fran,
and back again...

the other direction,
fuck the inflection,
the way they think i am
is a contraceptive
miscon(tra)ception 
electing to kill myself if i got their blessing
messages lost in the wind when it bends
as it descends to the west
they comin east for the best
heaven sent, smoke session
hence the scent
fuckin vents...
payin rent for my tent
bribed a reverend to hold the door a second,
like,
my heavens
blessin weight on the rise
like this bread is leavened
messin around in the rec, 
like Passover a sin,
swing and miss
like a sentient guess,
my bitch stitchin my lip
thicker hips
than kim k impressions
//

Stretch Island

Trenched Out Slime

Metrics of Motive: The Architecture of Narrative Truth 4.0, is a lyric that — stripped to its strategic essence outlines the following:
🧠 Narrative Summary
The lyric exposes how numbers, models, and historical accounts are never neutral. It maps a journey through:
Statistical deception: Every figure is shaped by motive — from measurement error to model bias, but more critically by the intent of the architect behind it.
Curated memory: Historians don’t just report; they select, omit, and frame. The past is reconstructed to serve present agendas.
Scientific scaffolding: Truth is provisional. Popper and Feyerabend echo through the suite, reminding us that science is built on assumptions, not absolutes.
Policy distortion: Metrics are deployed to justify decisions, mask injustice, and silence dissent — especially in economic and humanitarian contexts.
Epistemic audit: The lyric becomes a ciphered manifesto, urging listeners to interrogate every graph, every stat, every “objective” claim.
It’s not a song — it’s a strategic dissection of how truth is architected, weaponized, and sold.

Metrics of Motive - The Architecture 4.0 #Hip Hop Cipher Rap

Dive into the nocturnal world of Narco Noir "Laws of Time", where desire meets danger in a cinematic late-night escape. The lyrics follow a passionate, intoxicating connection, a love that’s intense, unrestrained, and all-consuming.

From whispered touches to electrifying moments, the song captures the thrill of intimacy in motion, like shadows dancing under city lights. It’s a journey through tension and release, blending slow, seductive grooves with bursts of energy that mirror the pulse of the night.

Every verse moves the listener deeper into this world: from quiet, intimate encounters to a confident, almost mission-driven pursuit of connection, culminating in a sense of liberation and shared rhythm. The outro lingers like a whisper, leaving you suspended in the heat of the moment.

Feel the pulse. Lose yourself in the night.

-----

Original Lyrics by Aime Pandi Bapaga 27/09/2025 - 16:00; YYMG

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Title: Laws of Time

Wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind,
Losing time where your body meets mine.
Slow grind, shadows melt in the light,
All night, I’ll be making love to you.

Padding lips, slipping my tongue in, in your mouth, yeah,
Smooch-kissing, sensual hissing, moment blissing.
Steering the spinning, deep in, I’m dreaming,
Body saucing, talking-calling, sprinting not jogging.
Every motion in slow motion, wavy ocean,
Breaking pillars like Samson, causing commotion.
A surge of electrolyte, moving that waist just as I like,
Electric flame burning hotter through the night.

Wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind,
Losing time where your body meets mine.
Slow grind, shadows melt in the light,
All night, I’ll be making love to you.

Under commission, to deliver tonight,
With every strike, you spit on the mic.
The sugar spike, high cadence on my bike,
I can’t stop, no, I can’t slow it down.
I like being on top till the mission done,
Run the night down into the rising sun.
All night I’ll be deep inside of you,
All night I’ll be making love to you.

Velvet smoke, bodies in the fire,
Narco noir, higher and higher.
Your silhouette dripping into mine,
We are rewriting the laws of time.

Wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t mind,
Slow grind till the end of the night.
All night, I’ll be deep inside of you,
All night, I’ll be making love to you.
(whispered chant under hook)
We are rewriting the laws of time…
We are rewriting the laws of time…
Fading into shadows, rewriting the laws of time…

THE FIRST STEP

RandyOsas