this one my favorite bro !!!! shit goes hard.

Ab-Soul & Kendrick Lamar - Rapper Shit (unreleased) prod. by Tommy Black

Blicky

Fuck Boi Freestyle

In a realm where chaos and hilarity danced a wild tango, an extraordinary rock band emerged, standing out like a neon peacock in a monochrome flock. They were none other than "Lawn Chair Crisis," an eccentric duo comprised of Lil Nirv and Doge.

Lil Nirv, the guitarist, defied gravity with his hair and flaunted a fashion sense best described as "retro-futuristic space cowboy." A distortion and feedback virtuoso, he fancied his guitar a communicator with extraterrestrial life (or so he claimed). His true name was a tongue-twisting enigma, hence "Lil Nirv," a tribute to his unwavering allegiance to peace signs and heavy riffs.

As the band's drummer, Doge was a puzzle of a pooch with a penchant for pizza that bordered on legendary. His drumming talent was eerily uncanny, his beats resonating with a rhythm that seemed to transcend species. Cloaked in perpetually-sliding sunglasses and a slightly oversized leather jacket, Doge personified "animal instinct" with a bark.

One day, consumed by their wanderlust and a hankering for epic waves, Lawn Chair Crisis embarked on a road trip to California's mythical shores. Armed with outrageous instruments, mismatched socks, and a cooler brimming with an unhealthy supply of pizza and beer, they set forth on a journey bound to unleash chaos.

Their route was a maze of wrong turns, questionable choices, and winding roads, leading them to a crossroads radiating an otherworldly aura. A signpost proclaimed "California or Bust," while below it, an enigmatic arrow pointed downward with the phrase "To the Core."

Without much ado, Lil Nirv and Doge exchanged a knowing look and followed the downward path. As they descended, the air turned sultrier, the landscape grew infernal, and the scent of smoldering brimstone wafted around them.

Shockingly, they found themselves in a rock 'n' roll inferno, where lava pits simmered and demons headbanged to an inaudible rhythm. Amidst trembling ground, the Devil himself emerged from the flames, equipped with an electric guitar and crimson-tinted shades.

"Welcome to the hottest gig, Lawn Chair Crisis!" the Devil exclaimed, a wicked grin stretching across his face. "Your music's diabolical, in the best way!"

His devilish plan was unveiled: they were to play a concert for Hell's forsaken souls. Should their performance rock the underworld's core, an escape ticket awaited. Failure meant an eternity playing for the flames.

With Lil Nirv's strings and Doge's drumming fueled by beer and pizza, Lawn Chair Crisis dove into a song defying musical physics. "Mosh Pit" echoed through Hell, its tumultuous energy threatening to tear reality asunder.

In an unforeseen twist, the ground quaked beneath them. The infernal realm trembled, and the tormented souls danced. Even the Devil sang along, his domain quaking as Lawn Chair Crisis's audacity reverberated through Hell's foundations.

As the last note reverberated, the Devil surrendered, shades askew and horns a little less haughty. "Alright, you glorious lunatics! Your way out's won!"

With a triumphant howl and a thunderous power chord, Lawn Chair Crisis was catapulted from Hell back to sunny California. The underworld quaked, and even demons whispered tales of their chaotic saviors.

Thus, the legend of Lawn Chair Crisis grew, murmured among mortals and demons alike. In a realm where discord reigned, they'd proven that even the quirkiest of tunes could shake Hell's very bedrock.

Mosh Pit

UP (Feat. Plntlrd)

no this ain't for you, this is all me 
My art form like science,  down to a T 

I know you'd buy this, but I give it to you for free 
Like a god damn snow flake, one and only 

Don't be no snitch I'ont playboy 
Girl I turn down lookin like damn a playboy 
Decoy, trynna throw me off my gameboy 
Pokemon emerald, know I’m bout my gameboy 
Pikatchu(peak at you), thats elec-tro serge 
Force and direction I put it work 
You don't always get what you might deserve 
I'm feelin like a Omarion you might get served 
Or that b2k bump bump, like a fist 
More metaphoric, literal get hit 
Little kid, what I see in you through my eyes 
Real eyes realize real lies, not these other guys, 
small fry wanna shake with that 
Cry me a river timberlake with that 
Like Justin, I just brought sexy back 
Dumb bitch that's a 10, made sexy wack 
Side note, I'm still only 18 
Gave Katy that 8 that teenage dream 
Fuck up ya mental like acid with lean 
Fuck up ya liver I sip gasoline
Fucked like animals on ketamine 
Yo i fucked up, hope this fake piss is clean 
Back on my grind, thats the railslide to trey flip
Stares from the haters conotate  they hate it 



nah this ain't for you, this is all me 
My art form like science,  down to a T 
I know you'd buy this, but I give it to you for free 
Like a god damn snow flake, get em juicy


don’t be no snitch i don’t play boi
bitch touch my dick its a big you
just broke my shoulder and it still hurt
this my first song and my first verse (WORK)
writing with my left cause my right hand hurt
set down the pen just to light up the purp
quench all my thirst when i poured up the syrp
that trippy that hippy I’m in love with earth
green lungs and my pocket, i doubled my worth
baller from utah they call me trey burk 
come to the goat house garage so cloudy
neighbors always bitchin cause we smoking so loudly
gotta get rich , try til I’m dead
on a strict diet, eat pussy and bread
had a date with the devil, got faded instead
a DVCN, i dont fuck with red
I’m at it again I’m attacking these raps
i drive on the beat like my first name is shaq
clean off the plate like a player at bat
this world is a bitch infested with clap
ya girl suck me off, jukebox for a reason
crew tight like a pussy, i don’t fuck with treason
i wish that you would please give me reason
an eye for an eye, it looks like we even

Snowflake (feat. JuiceBoxx)

shane bars

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Wyatt Mcevoy

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