Weight on My Name – Bobbi Fi$ha 💰🔥💀

Every syllable carries power, every bar hits like a prophecy—"Weight on My Name" is more than a track, it’s a statement. Bobbi Fi$ha moves through the beat like a phantom in the dark, her voice dripping with authority, menace, and undeniable presence. This is the sound of legacy in the making, where the bass shakes the ground and the flow cuts through the noise like a blade.

Laced with psychedelic energy, shadowy 808s, and hypnotic melodies, this track is a warning and a reminder—power isn’t given, it’s taken. The weight is real. The name is legendary. Are you listening? 💰🔥

#WeightOnMyName #BobbiFi$ha #DarkTrap #PsychedelicTrap #AltTrap #BassHeavy #HypnoticFlow #ShadowRap #UndergroundTrap #OtherworldlySound #NextUp







Lyrics **

Weight on my name, it don’t lift off for free,
Price in the city, it double for me.
Stack up a milli, then stash it in three,
Ghost out the lot like I’m dodgin’ a plea.

Numbers do backflips, I bend ‘em like fractions,
Brick like a sermon, it flip like a Baptist.
Chain full of glaciers, my neck is Antarctic,
Step in the spot, make ‘em freeze like a target.

Trenches still active, they move with intention,
Ain’t talkin’ credit but swipes in the section.
Hundred-round physics, it alter they diction,
Shells in the chamber like hieroglyph scriptures.

Opps play Houdini, they vanish, no witness,
Still keep it tucked like a brick in the kitchen.
Price on they head like a chain of commission,
Move like a chessboard, my knights play position.

Whip like a spaceship, it’s floatin’ like Tesla,
Talkin’ ‘bout pressure? My foot on they sectors.
They on the net, but I’m live in the nexus,
Touch one of mine, it get darker than Vantablack.

Bezel got VVs, they water, no surface,
Cuban so thick it could strangle a serpent.
They say they ballin’, but flex on a budget,
My money counter got stamina, run it.

Basement to penthouse, I climb like ascent,
Ain’t into rentals, I buy and cement.
Bags out in Tokyo, yen through the vents,
Bricks in the duffel, it sit like a bench.

I don’t do middlemen, straight to the source,
They gettin’ taxed, but I’m paid for the course.
Talkin’ that gas but ain’t built for the torque,
Pressure applied, now they move with remorse.

Pockets like Bezos, they launch outta orbit,
Opps gettin’ clipped like they fell through a portal.
I’m with the sharks, it get deep as a moral,
Circle too small, only bosses in quorum.

Numbers keep dancin’, they jump like a metric,
Digital balance, my paper electric.
Talkin’ bout motion, but movin’ synthetic,
I keep it organic, my profit’s kinetic.

Penthouse got ceilings that stare at the stars,
Money so long it extend through the Mars.
Vultures around, but I see from afar,
Play with my name, they get left with a scar.

Drums in the trunk, it could rattle a spirit,
Talkin’ in whispers, I still get the clearance.
They movin’ light, but I’m dense in appearance,
Step in the room, and the tension’s coherent.

Weight in the safe like I benchpress a boulder,
Bricks in rotation, they stack like a folder.
Winter or summer, my wrist outta order,
Ice on my body, it switch up the weather.

Took me a risk, now the numbers outrageous,
They sellin’ dreams, but I’m closin’ on acres.
Paid off the land, then I built me a matrix,
They stuck in loops, I been breakin’ the cadence.

Ghost in the system, I move with precision,
Every transaction encrypted and hidden.
They play the victim, I play my position,
Turn up the heat and it melt their decisions.

Foreigns in fleet and they hum like a sermon,
Pedal depress like I’m pressin’ a verdict.
Call up the jeweler, my neck need refurbish,
Everything custom, I doubled the purchase.

Marble my floors and my ceiling is tinted,
Paintings from artists that never existed.
History written in every percentage,
Legacy buildin’, it’s never diminished.

Weight On My Name

Faces In The Night

November

they say you live to learn. however, this dutiful view ignores that there are things worth perceiving and experiencing that only become apparent when you do the opposite: unlearn. unlearn routines, rules, patterns, standards and schemata with which we fill the drawers of our worldview as if that somehow made us wiser. in the end, we know nothing at all, and that to perfection. like grandmasters of a pentatonic riff.

what about things that challenge the familiar in an engagingly irreverent way and openly question everything we've learned? dadaism, for example, which I btw associate with the only instance of unlearning I regret: the loss of most of my knowledge of french.

in the 70s I spent a lot of time in la rochelle and I was able to converse avec les gens là-bas almost as a matter of course, even though, as proud french people, they didn't even consider speaking a little slower and more clearly for me. no mercy!

this fabulous period was followed by decades without any linguistic contact. so, when I finally had the chance to speak french with someone again, I couldn't remember anything. zero. all gone. just fragments. and that despite the fact that I had even written a french poem (ok, admittedly with the help of the fave cactus fruit of mr. leary, which https://soundcloud.com/imre-lodbrog has just sung about that unparalleled brilliantly. 

I dedicated the poem to alfred jarry, ingenious pioneer of dada. (further dedication stuff https://youtu.be/TvBhSEF0H6I?si=O9IgVXlscnHy97s2 ).

unlike my language skills, the poem has remained to this day, as well as two attempts from back then to set it to music.

the first was just purist: spoken vocals with melodic tendencies, accompanied by medieval 4/4 percussion and sparse low strings, later adding third and fifth voices like minstrel singing.

the second version was due to my absolute love of serge gainsbourg's songs (especially with jane birkin) and my fascination with the arrangements/melodies of french ballads from the late 60s and early 70s.

there were rough demos of both, but never the vocals I had in my head. until today. 

it's nov 1st, the anniversary of jarry's death. and I thought I'd pay him tribute. with both versions, which he would surely have found merde!

©music and lyrics by Hans-Michael Albers, instrumental cover & vocal performance by suno 5

for reasons of space, an english translation can be found under the second version.

Dans une auberge pour ceux qui rient, je me demande,
Si les miroirs mentent ou rêvent de leurs reflets,
Si Dieu écrit encore quand sa plume tremble,
Ou si le temps s’endort dans un verre de lait.

Pourquoi les chaises songent aux jambes perdues,
Et les fenêtres prient pour rester éveillées ?
Le vent qui passe écrit des mots inconnus
Sur les rideaux froissés de la vérité.

Dans une auberge pour ceux qui rient, je me demande,
Dans une auberge pour ceux qui rient, j'explique le monde

Un chat s’endort debout, prophète de l’absurde,
Son œil comprend ce que ma tête refuse,
Il dit : « Penser, c’est creuser un trou sans mur, »
Puis rit d’avoir compris qu’il s’y amuse.

Les montres saignent lentement leur heure creuse,
Un coq de fer annonce un matin inutile,
Je cherche un sens, il fuit, rieur, sous la pelouse,
Et me fait signe d’un geste immobile.

Dans une auberge ...

Si le silence a peur des horloges qui chantent,
Alors le cri des fleurs devient une prière,
Et le néant, coiffé d’une ombre élégante,
Apprend à danser dans la poussière claire.

J’ai vu le ciel écrire en bleu sa lassitude,
Les anges, las, buvaient du thé sans éternel,
Et chaque goutte avait le goût des habitudes
Qu’on oublie mal, même au fond du réel.

Dans une auberge pour ceux qui rient, je demeure,
Entre la tasse et le doute, un peu penché,
Le monde tourne, ivre, en cherchant sa rumeur,
Et moi, je bois pour ne pas y penser.

Dans une auberge ...

L'Auberge Absurde 1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtv_KZkK3Lk
Aimez bien vos amours aimez l'amour qui s'élève 
Sous la lumière douce d'un matin silencieux 
Une plume qui danse au gré du vent qui soulève 
Un parfum de promesse dans un ciel radieux 
Aimez l'amour qui peint des éclats d'aventure 
Au soleil des couleurs un tableau lumineux 
Un éclat de sourire une tendresse pure 
Une flamme fragile dans un monde audacieux

Aimez pour la vie

Credits
Performed by King Chico
Lead and Background Vocals: King Chico
Written & Composed by: King Chico
Produced by: King Chico Music
Published by: King Chico Universe © 2025

Chama (Phonk)

Feelings are broken Down, Trashed In the rain. Dont Take it back.

I just improvised this and think it works well. It will most likely be edited down and expanded but I quite like its simplicity but it's a bit too long and needs more vocals and instrumentation.

Scratch that im pretty happy with this now. I think? lol

Please feel free to let me know what you think as i appreciate any feedback.

Broken Down

Where Have All the Good Men Gone?
Reidmoto: ALL

[VERSE 1]
 I’ve tried the online dating sites,
 Made a real effort to do it right.
 I answered all those first-time texts,
 Didn’t take long to learn what’s next.

[VERSE 2]
 Most of the guys sent one-liners—
 Not knowing what a woman requires.
 “Hey beautiful! You wanna meet?”
 Did they think I’d just jump out of my seat?

[Pre-chorus]
I’ve made an honest effort,
 To be a woman worth dating.
 But the years roll on, and my hope’s deflating.

[CHORUS]
 Where have all the good men gone?
 Are they all taken—only defects in the pond?
 Where are all the solid, salt-of-the-earth guys,
 Who know themselves and are caring and wise?

[VERSE 3]
 I’ve met the angry ones, still mad at their ex,
 Carrying grudges like unpaid debts.
  A few just want a body, not a soul—
 Leaving me emptier the more I scroll.

[CHORUS]
 Where have all the good men gone?
 Are they all taken—only defects in the pond?
 Where are all the solid, salt-of-the-earth guys,
 Who know themselves and are caring and wise?

[BRIDGE]
 Maybe he’s out there, working late,
 Fixing trucks or trusting fate.
 Maybe he’s healing from love gone bad—
 Just like me, he’s tired of sad.

[FINAL CHORUS]
 Where have all the good men gone?
 Maybe they’re waiting, just holding on—
 For a woman who’s real, not playing a part,
 Who still believes love’s a work of heart.

[OUTRO]
 So I’ll keep my faith, though it’s wearing thin,
 One honest soul could change everything.
 ’Til then I’ll laugh, and I’ll live again—
 Still asking, where are all the good men?

Where Have All the Good Men Gone? v. Pop/Rock  I've heard women ask this question

Remixes

Metamorphosis (Remix)

A smooth Latin Vibe, made from scratch ... all by me with VSTs ... trumpet blown with EWI ...
A bit Santana came to my mind, when I was setting the keyboard groove :-) Enjoy my little easy listening exercise !

Latin Vibes

Sainsonic feat. Synthesizer V Eri - Angel Love

Human inspirationals

🚀 No rules. No limits. Just prophecy in motion. 🔮✨ #BobbiFi$ha #DarkTrap #EtherealSeduction #LyricalGoddess #Spacebound #GameDevout

Step into the void. The signal is live. 🎛️⚡👁️ #RowdySects #BobbiFi$ha #DarkElectronic #PsychedelicNoise #PostElectronic #GlitchTrap #OtherworldlySound

Weight On My Name

Bobbi Fi$ha

Recent comments

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