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)

(Shoot to Kill) my initial

I want what I want

Safe With Me

prod. Dak Kid
art. Kenneth Rude

Whip whip , I can really talk about that 
Cut the Molly, rerock it with the Pyrex
Just a phase, young man still self made 
Couple weeks side work, i made 2 k
out with the lifestyle , man that shit was hella volatile 
architect ,  written structure fuck a freestyle 
Prioritizing steady workin grindin make the family proud 
productive as fuck on my Ps and Qs when I'm not smoking loud 
Done with the dip , here and there I'll still smoke a square
When I grin looking like porcelain why can the boy not go back to the clean air 
Seems like a fair trade ,though i probably should have a made a hand-me-down 
Swear to god Lost my religion even if I prayed swear Im sure that he can't hear now
broadcasting my voice on a format that public 
My family is worried the homies still love it 
The tops where I threat to jump off of the tower 
Can't jump , social suicide threats getting louder 
They sayin All he talks about is drugs , getting twacked out 
He just sounds like riff raff was on 8 mile 
Like a drug -
breath me then leave me 
Contraception -
 can't breed me 
Wield forks -
can't feed me 
Growing pains -
I'm teething
I’m seething 
I'm beasting 
Better set that table bitch I’m too close to feasting

(This is Where the hook should go, whip my wrist then I row my boat)


Fuck all yo feelings , i should have said that from the start
Came up off dealin , well until I got caught 
Shouts out my lawyer , just dropped all charges 
my record woke up like dis , it looks flawless 
Don't tell me how to act , in the know behave ignorant 
triumphant over y'all simpletons , y’all xenophobes indigenous 
bars is on paper , still shine, holograph card 
Insight creative , new bars avant garde
Burstin out that bubble that you thought were my confines 
ending those sentences and begin with break lines ..
Yall trynna break mine? I double time to take mine 
Sniff out that weak shit like Cocaine and canines 
I lay down the script - put it down flip it reverse it 
content ain't too bad - but steady misdemeanors ain't workin 
multiple new points of view, like i do what acid did 
don’t try to box me in, you can not trap the kid
20 year old with an old soul, u can not bear it no oso
latinos say dios, I'm god on the mic with the prolific bars so you know so 
looking like i am the best to be doing it, so aesthetic with the scenery
when you’re this high , they all look like ants, from my perspective what you mean to me 

(This is Where the hook should go, whip my wrist then I row my boat)

whip (prod. Dak Kid)

Christian Dior Denim Flow - Kanye West

whip (prod. Dak Kid)

shane bars

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