damn man you did the madlib beat right!! Were down af to collab

Punchlines and storytelling, kid's got it all. Big ups from Neuchatel man.

These vocal chops in the beat are dope! Is it just me or is your vocal clipping at some points?

ape shit

written, recorded & performed by Ryler Smith
produced & mixed by Devaloop
mastered by Dj Buzz

cover/photography © Markus Oberndorfer

Eternal Dreams

Stream/Buy

Devaloop & Ryler Smith - 12 - Body Bags

Devaloop & Ryler Smith - 02 - Doors

Devaloop & Ryler Smith - 08 - Boomin

Devaloop & Ryler Smith - 04 - Peruggia (feat. Educut)

https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/devaloopandrylersmith/eternal-dreams

Eternal Dreams (Snippet)

Vinyl & Streaming

Devaloop & Ryler Smith - Eternal Dreams (Snippet by DJ Delightfull)

Devaloop & Ryler Smith - 05 - Aficionados

Devaloop & Ryler Smith - 09 - Topaz

A great thanks for my man Inspectah Morze for composing this beautiful beat.

This song has been remastered to a more crisp sound as of the release of my mixtape, 95 KiD Undoubtedly Unknown, on 7th of March 2014. Lyrics below.

@ Youtube.com/tyconscious - @ twitter.com/TyC_YoungLion - @ facebook.com/Tyconscious
Download and share - We're bringing the music back, simple as that - It NEEDS YOU.

Scheming for  bagels; seeking overseas like naval ships, 
So call the cops for some vodka and maple chips,
We able son, with ableton
We may stone like table gum,
Creating some, phat tracks, and wait until the paper come
The dick can wait, - So see ya later hun,
And don’t you please relate to something that must wait to come
I’m talking bout all these questions they keep on drilling 
Like who fucks who, who’s blue and who’s dealing?
Who drives a Civic in blue, who hittin on whom’s wife?
What’s happening on twitter, which dude’s lost his life,,
Shut your trap like a smack on ya face,
Face the back handed slap jack who slaps with a taste,
I’m back in the place, you know the best Kebab in town,
I’m swallowing down, meat and sauce is part of me now,
Then sorbets in all sorts of, sort of nice like paradise
Lyrically I orbit all this, spores and parasites
- Really my rhymes flawless, and forge Satellites 
- For scores like this are raw just like anthracite,
In the candle light I dine game solo,
No one but myself, no hoes who yelling yolo,
Oh no, I’m stuck on kush and yoda again,
Fall asleep by a bush, see the sofa my den
Bout a quarter hour later, woken up by my neighbour,
Chiddy Chiddy, Bang Bang, slam the damn babe up,
Feeling potato so I grab my phone,
Check the ratio to see who’s home – “What’s up baby?”
“I’m feeling lonely and I’m bout to go crazy,
Do you mind if we spend some time till I’m fine?”
I’m mad chill she accepts the request,
The Plan’s still to get her wet and undressed
My mad skills with these women are needless
Seduction strikes, when temptation is best.
I digress, wait for the subway while listening to onyx,
The lyrics, the stories I’m picturing like comics,
While rolling up a Joe, my mind flowing whole acres,
Ill lines I forget half an hour later,
Pick out my paper I’m hungry from that bobby,
In need of some chicken, cookin’ like teriyaki 
I’m Standing in Brooklyn, looking at some graffiti,
2pac with a blunt on fire, next to him - Biggy,
Walk to the park view houses by the bridge,
Where she live, my AM angel I call bitch,
Name Selena Sanchez, butter pecan hoe,
Brown hair, green eyes, skin like pure gold.
She got the top wavy, I got no socks mainly,
- I’m high like daily, we fuck a lot but plainly
Don’t understand how I got here,
Women used to hate me, now they crazy for my cock yea.
Fill up her glass of baileys till she rock chair,
She got a nice shaved pussy, ass’s top tier,
Drop her here, on the bed, unhook her push up
Tadaaa, two perfect tits staring at me like “wassup.?
I do the deed with ease she comes the sixth time,
Screaming that she’s tired and she’s leaking like a bridge line
I bust a nut and take a shower fore I watch a movie,
Tarantino, Pacino while eating candy fruity
Favorite Flavor is juicy apple and blueberry 
Bad boys with HEAT, a black charger and a blue chevy
I fall asleep on the couch after a sprite,
The last time I ever drank a fucking vodka in my life
It’s bout 10 AM I say goodbye to the hoe,
Walk 10 steps out and check out a record store,
Exit the door frame, run into some flowers,
Walking towards some figures who back from afterhours,
I hear somebody say my name as I turn left,
I see my man Rakeen, and with him, it’s Wyclef,
Aight I def smile for my brothaz on move,
Let’s smoke a grand doubie to the 9.6 grooves,
Super loopa big spliff, super shooter for moods,
I telling em bout last night, they calling me a fool,
That I’mma hurt her feelings, shit, ain’t got no time for that,
While time is killing, I go back to my flat,
Take up the notepad the pen and spit jewels clean,
You see my life ain’t so mad, it’s routine. X2
(It’s just routine)


Like and Follow if you felt this piece.

DOWNLOAD HERE

04 - Routine (Prod. InspectahMorze) *ReMstr

Produced by: soundcloud.com/gymleader-matt
@ Youtube.com/tyconscious - @ twitter.com/TyC_YoungLion - @ facebook.com/Tyconscious
Download and share - We do the magic(for free) and y'all get it known. - It NEEDS YOU.

Straight from the city Z, Repping the 95
9 lives these cats chase dogs and my eyes,-
Open up, I see the colors and misery,
Potion that a nigga smoking lets him fly in infinity.
Waiting for the ministry to come get me
I’m living a life, that my momma would call so deadly
And my biggest fright is not having a future at all
They say the money will come sooth ya but it will make you fall,
Kinda like a gravity switch,
This is calamity bitch,
So let my strategy shift,
My family rich, when it comes to homies 
Who don’t come equipped.
I’m acting like they still don’t know,
Just to be the bitch,
That was a fucked up statement, replacing,
These are simply sounds from the basement,
We chasing beats on pavements,
Masters with no patience, 
Once slave men and now trade men,

Cooking, these tracks tropical, You cats shooking, 
But that’s that and not the topical
Yo we got the flow that keep em obstacles with opticles
Written in chronicles, this spitting is demonical 
Phenomal I oppose the copy-all and stay cool,
Ain’t jewels if you ain’t feeling the blues,
You, do the dude but you still in school,
You little fool, how you dun act G is pityful
I keep it real for my goons with tracks that,
Blast phat, abstract, the 9 my back strap,
Ask that, divine when I rhyme and That’s that, 
That’s rap, it’s yours? Shit sounds like anthrax
That’s whack, a fact poor -something my Plan lacks
And that’s a rap chord, bumping like bad tracks
So pass, cause the next nigga sniffs,
No con-cain, just some biggaloupa spliffs
See my brain scarred mentally, gentally I’m surfing raw,
Brain cells fail, and I forget what I was searching for.
Forget what I was searching for…

05 - Basement Soul (Prod. GymLeaderMatt)

Sants Page: @santiago-gamarra-riesgo

I got this bitch on my mind like widgets
Gets me in instances like instant bliss 
With this persistance - I hold the subway ticket,
Wicked Sepia lights way above me shine my eye distance
While I distance myself from thy glistening eyes,
I’m sizzling like thai Inscents from her golden thighs
Green curry, only chicken no fish, 
Why do I daydream so much about that bitch?
I can’t focus on my meal,
Green Tea clutched in my hands against the chill,
We are all killed by love sublimely,
He lives inside the dream but in time-he.
Find heaps of lies buried untidy
Gear up my phones only sounds odda 90s.
 My knees get high please like eye sees.
Aight please, Sweet dreams is where you’ll find me.
Mine’s prayer this girl’s an alligator
I stand with wet feet waiting get on my waitor,
Hater, you may hate, but not take what is great.
The inspiration you gift me is more than I create,
I hope you relate to my words now,
This is a story bout a queen who stole the lord’s crown
To Fjord’s town, I can’t find the noun but the despair,
hip hop has stolen my identity, a bitch rare.
Coffee and cigarettes at noon while I’m writing,
beats in my ear keep my life exciting,
These streets inclined in,
Define him, the man who rhymes sly, pen aiming to the sky rim.
Irony in the heist of Heisenberg
Hiding the iron merge into the debths of her fire’s purge
I dun urge to oppose my love’s words.
Writing my thoughts at lunch, my tongue hurts
And it burns. 


06 - Heist Of Heisenberg (That Bitch) Prod. San-T

It was about 8 PM if I remember right,
It was a cold harsh December night,
Winter lights shine my eye distance, we drive with persistance,
Small assitance, a 3 Man team,
Me, some russian called Vince and Rakim
 We all clean, nobody gets high when doing a scheme
Where my manners, name Riley, infact Riley Smith.
I’m that nigga you know got fat stashes,
Pro dope, Pure meth, coke-cain, your satisfaction.
More hope for pay, sure guess, I ain’t actin
No bloody action in these streets, the cold war is over.
Scope on the target, told ya, nobody stops a soldier.
Fat stacks await us in that building.
If we fuck it up, bad luck we dead fathers to our children, 
A million, in cash. Plus hash and mad crystal. 
Seven fools, two knives, a boxer, three pistols.
Schizophrenic thoughts I calm in meditative inscent;
(Deep breath) I can smell the win. „You feel it vincent?“
So instantly we stop a block away to stay unseen.
A shock we’d drop would not be wise, so stop and bless the team.
Exit the car, open the booth and snatch me beauty –
Beautiful SPAS-12 just incase it gets moody.
Mp3 groovy, slightly misty ambience, I smell a doubie.
57 steps we walk, then left, we at the door, a car just rolled right passed us,
Enter slow, stair case empty, is it this easy to steal this dough?
Third floor a nigga sleeps on the floor,
Another door, Rakim left, Vince right, I roar,
We - bust the fucking door up, my shot soar, 
Stuck in the niggas behind, it struck four.
Three niggas left. One screams „CALL THE BACK UP DAVE!“
Vince pulls the cord on a black laugh gas grenade,
He passes it like Quarterbacks, it blasts  masses.
I hear two people drop, we strap our gas masks, then
Head through that corridor, I hear the clock is tickin‘
We got like 3 minutes maximum, don’t stop the mission,
Bullocks like politicians, collectin‘ confidence
Bullets that strike on visions, complicating common sense.
The consequence is connected to all considerations,
If we fucked it up, we fucked it up, no contemplations
Correct my conscious back like compasses to north do,
Concentration on chasing paper, for which we’d off you.
The last nigga must’ve jumped out of the window glass,
Never seen three men fill bags this fast,
1 minute left, we head back out, Damn,
Cops sirens in the distance, then played out, slam - enter the vehicul
Critical, situation this leads into.
No bad thinking, cause we prolly gone make it through
I see an old lady point out the automobile,
Roar up until, the engine force intertwines with the wheel
I’m hitting 90 miles per hour on the main city route
What a pursuit, swerving through traffic, we already lost 2.
Shit, Swinging this piece of metal round the town plaza,
Drifting at 50 miles per hour, flying like Massa.
All cops get lost, looks like we gonna make it
This for brother man it felt like Simba lost Mufasa. Rakim, it’s hot, 
But no que pasa nothing by tu casa
Let’s drop you fellas with your share, go eat an Enchillada
Play a track by TyC produced by Miz Recarga
Driving on into the sunset in a black-blue charger.

09 - The Job (Prod. Madlib)

TOULOUSE'

ॐ Musik drückt das aus, was nicht gesagt werden kann und worüber zu schweigen unmöglich ist ॐ

Ryler Smith 
(@rylersmith)

Booking info: rylersmith@gmail.com
www.rylersmith.com

09 - The Job (Prod. Madlib)

Ryler Smith

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