scratching at the surface but the bottom is where im at

100 Bullets

Produced by RONNALD
Lyrics - https://genius.com/Ronnald-die-before-you-die-lyrics

RONNALD - Die Before You Die

📂Music
 └📁[thrashwhoremagazine]
      └📁injections
      └⚠️RATCHET A$YLUM.dll

Stream it on Spotify!

RATCHETA$YLUM.dll [prod. SLEEPYTRXPPER]

All Inquires (Production/Features/Collabs/A nice chat): 

Email:
gaothearsonist@gmail.com

Instagram:
@guywithanoldasslaptop

Lyrics:
teeth grit and fist clenched,
calling for God,
now he reeks: spit and piss drenched him, (huh)
bloodied piece ripped from his wrist
when he slit them,
to withstand
bombshells:
fell he did dig trenches,
lay face down in the dirt,
certain that at this rate now,
he'll be burnt up,
curtains,
like: show's over,
hope the he'll cope with the broken bones,
and stay strong 'till it blows over,
and it will right?
answer me, don't kill quiet,
force fed hard to swallow pills prior,
to when I found out you can't chill fire,
feels drier in the pool of knowledge,
than my mouth when it's filled with prayer,
I'm not built with higher tolerance than all rest,
I can toil until i'm tired and I'm tired,
of looking at the leading,
I should peel the piper, wear his skin,
need a light in the labyrinth,
drown him in paraffin:
man-candle,
man-handled, been,
roughed up,
just brush up?
now that's the thing,
I feel as strong as molasses thin,
the chance I invested in,
I'm cherishing,
it seems to be perishing,
battalions of tallied failures are garrisoned,
on the horizon,
sun rise, dawn, stride cross the sky,
fall till the night comes,
then my corpse collects flies on it,
I'm looking for the answer with the lights on,
but my sight's gone,
light a pipe bong,
or a pipe bomb,
between my lips,
either way I'm getting blasted,
acid re-flux, give a fuck if it's rancid,
fear stricken bastard,
shirt sticky, plastered to my chest,
with my sweat,
so close to kissing caskets,
nigga.

eaten up by questions, cotton candy at the carnival,
silence leaves me breathless like asthmatic late for rendezvous,
tell me who to ask,
tried the shit they taught in Sunday school,
answers always quiet like the sky I'm fucking talking to.

nah bitch,
no need for sipping on booze
pick the spliff from your lips,
no tripping on boof,
I don't need no fuck niggas twisting the truth,
too advanced in that shit:
mind blank and confused, uh,
lack of answers cause cancerous tumor,
spread to my head quick like bitches with rumors,
looks like enlightenment's later than sooner.

just let me know where I fucked up,
fill my face with holes from a buckshot,
on my knees chewing gravel, yeah I'll dust off,
all my pride if you decide to give me some thought,
that I ain't already heard before, fuck what he say,
I need words divorced from the brain-dead and the cliche,
wanna put a stick in my mouth like I suck adhesive,
mimic a bitch with a stick between its teeth.

eaten up by questions, cotton candy at the carnival,
silence leaves me breathless like asthmatic late for rendezvous,
tell me who to ask,
tried the shit they taught in Sunday school,
answers always quiet like the sky I'm fucking talking to.

I Need Answers

All Inquires (Production/Features/Collabs/A nice chat): 

Email:
gaothearsonist@gmail.com

Instagram:
@guywithanoldasslaptop

Lyrics:
beam of light at 3:05 in the A.M.
screen on, typed up 3 + lines just to waste them,
daybreak seconds away, reckon I can taste when,
the night dies,
me? I like your phenotypes through the webcam,
peace of mind, I see outlines of incandescence,
sun of today's stubborn, duvet covers stuffed with best damn, substitute for comfort lose my head.
beam of light at 3:05 in the A.M.
screen on, typed up 3 + lines just to waste them,
daybreak seconds away, reckon I can taste when,
the night dies,
me? I like your phenotypes through the webcam,
peace of mind, I see outlines of incandescence,
sun of today's stubborn, duvet covers stuffed with best damn, substitute for comfort lose my head.

'pose I owe the loneliness to hours even evening skies sleep.
only pillow talk I dribble out is cursing with the cotton in my teeth.

sticky sheets, the liquids reeking as they mix,
pretty pink from the seamen and the wrists, (yah)
fluids diluted by sweat seeping from my skin.
pity peaches and the tree branch that they're picked from.

still saw dawn in the A.M.
tears are dried by the A.M.
A.M.
A.M.

A.M.

All Inquires (Production/Features/Collabs/A nice chat): 

Email:
gaothearsonist@gmail.com

Instagram:
@guywithanoldasslaptop

Lyrics:
I have business sitting in the hearse,
I'd prefer it hidden in the dirt though,
I have business sitting in the hearse,
I'd prefer it hidden in the dirt though,
I have business sitting in the hearse,
I'd prefer it hidden in the dirt though,
I have business sitting in the hearse,
I have business sitting in the hearse,

I don't see friends,
All I see are grave-robbers,
I'm a degenerate,
I set 'em up,
With a fake cover,
I don't see friends,
All I see are grave-robbers,
I'm a degenerate,
I set 'em up,
With a fake cover,

I always strived to die tight-lipped,
Eyelids shut with the clutch of vice grip,
Wise idioms tend to surmise that the iris,
Are windows to the soul,
Only thing I bid to show is that it's frosted with a nice tint,
Fist fights picked in a rage by the courtyard,
Sip my drink in the shade of the orchard,
In-line image isn't straight if its torn apart,
They only mourn a part of me,
Bore a hole in the oracle quick before they know,
Organic portions of the plastic corpse I battled for,
At the door knocks second thoughts, 
They kick it in like hinges rust,
Cinders brushed off when they torch the things that hinder trust,
I twist and run,
Leave the contemplating in the dust,
Gathered on the challenge to go find myself and dig him up,
Don't haul my body bag just zip it up,
Break the teeth,
Bury all my hatches when they in the fucking grave with me

(Coroner's report number: @$%&#**)

I don't see friends,
All I see are grave-robbers,
I'm a degenerate,
I set 'em up,
With a fake cover,
I don't see friends,
All I see are grave-robbers,
I'm a degenerate,
I set 'em up,
With a fake cover,

Name: &$*#@
Age: **
Cause of death: #&@$

Graverobbers

I Turn To Ashes

happy 4/20 guys

if you're here from the video, my ig is @fuckrumi
email : rumilavigne@gmail.com

Dirtnap

Stream on Spotify!

dirtnap (prod. sleepytrxpper) ig: @fuckrumi

Hate me

New album "The Cold Dark Somewhere" is now available on all platforms!

Death

i'm a narcissist,
worried 'bout myself,
fuck a party bitch.
minivan stank,
full of party piss,
i'm on the ground ate shit off bacardi bitch.
and i-
so fuck the camera phones,
i only get aroused in the camera zones.
hotbox RV pass the bong,
and she a freak bitch when you turn the camera on.
like-
facetats and snapbacks to get big,
eat shit and plop dead at ya' next gig,
break necks ya' dead,
ya' can't skate kid,
h-d tits,
ya' bitch could come get dicked.
waste time,
ya' mind it's gon flatline.
suicide my ringtone,
and lifeline.
magazine a few feet,
with straight lines.
tourbus bitch,
ignored her man's facetime.

[prod. vulix14]

RONNALD - Die Before You Die

RONNALD

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