This shit so fire i dont even want to share it 

kutthroat (prod. rxck + mvrco)

TOMIBILLSBIGGER - COMMON ENEMY

Vile w Tomibillsbigger +NoWayAce+

cover art by Scott Taylor and @Leaf_god_realm
s/o to xan and my friends/coproducers

XANMAN$HAWTY- Beijing (Yung Brando x Scott Taylor)

we just talk

ain't done yet.

2nd beat w/ @tsunamiinsurance | 5th beat w/ @samirislost

plugg mix '23

sin + greed

Lot of That

Birds of A Feather p.Osyris Israel%mix3.mp3

It begins with the adventure, with love, and with the quiet bond between Jennie and the poet in Tenerife. Days move slowly, the sun painting the mountains, and together they walk, laugh, and sit in silence by the window. Their bond is soft and unspoken—Jennie watching as he drapes celestial white silk across his face, resting in meditation, listening not just to the waves of the island but to the weight of what’s still to come. She sees the way he writes, the way he records, hour after hour, poem after poem, as if something greater is moving through him.

And then, the whispers shift. The presence of his older brother grows louder in the Spanish nights. In the middle of poems, Othello’s voice pierces the veil, guiding, reminding, haunting. A message begins to form: not a farewell to Drizzy, but a quiet summoning, a call toward 2028. The recordings are not random; they are bridges, verses carrying a signal across time. Jennie can feel it too—that he is not just creating art, he is answering something only he can hear.

Drizzy’s reflection appears inside the poet’s mirror, the number 11 glowing back at him, the rhythm of destiny folding into sound. The whisper says 2027 is an ending, but Othello has given 1046 three years—a covenant sealed long before, an oath made when the ink of OA touched his name. The second verse feels like the ghost of Othello himself is writing, speaking through the poet, weaving the words into Drizzy’s orbit.

Spain is more than a place—it’s a vessel for the message. In this Airbnb, hidden from the public, 1046 becomes only what he was always meant to be: a poet. Every night beneath the moon, the wind instructs him to record, to let his brother’s hand guide him through the silence. Jennie listens, patient, watching the fragments turn into constellations, watching the poet dissolve into the astral conversations only he can translate.

This is the Poet in Tenerife. This is the whisper of Othello, the reflection of Drizzy, the love of Jennie, and the solitude of 1046—bound together under the stars, recording until the prophecy aligns.

#1046 #ThePoet #Tenerife #Jennie #AstralConversations #SpainSessions

The Seal Of The State (P+ ikesmissing & westlypbe)

reeba

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