Dear Zachary (Dressed In Sadness)

Mama House

Made during the week of 6/24. 
**New one coming next week!**

written by B.A. Skritter
produced by B.A. Skritter
mixed by B.A. Skritter

Palmetto Bug (Picture Dat!)

Made during the week of June 27
Written & produced by B.A. Skritter

Shotgun Ridah

4 Prezident

Nasty Woman

Jett Diss (prod. by Chase Lurvey)

**Excerpt from https://www.reallygoodrecordsmusic.com/blog/little-rocketman-the-story-behind-the-beef-between-kim-jong-un-and-b-a-skritter **
"What?" said Skritter as he answered the phone, clearly annoyed to have had his tranquility disturbed.
"Are you coming to my party?" the fat face on the other end asked.
"Who is this?"
"It's me, Kim," the boy replied.
"I don't know, bruh bruh. What are we gonna do?"
"Well, my dad restocked the bar. There's like, 20 bottles of Hennessee. And maybe we can play some ball."
"Sheeeit, there gonna be any hoes there?"
"Of course, my very good-looking friend! I invited all the girls from school. Even Kim will be there, oh, boy! I plan on asking her out at the party. She is the love of my life. Her and I will get married someday, and have five ch--"
"Wait... Hold up. You like a girl named Kim? And you want to marry her one day? You're both gonna have the same name, what kinda shit is that?!" Our hero reminded the nerd.
Nevertheless, Skritter got ready for the party and John Travolta picked him up in his private plane.
"Yo, John. Take me to North Korea. And don't be doing none of that weird shit," Skritter demanded, because John Travolta is known to do some weird shit.
All eyes gazed upon the tarmac as Travolta dropped Skritter off at the emperor's palace. All the girls drooled and readjusted their undergarments as B.A. Skritter walked off the plane. There was a commotion as each girl turned to ask her friends if her hair looked good, if there was anything in her teeth, if she needed to reapply any make-up. 'He's so hot!' 'What a hunk!' were some of the phrases heard among the horde of women.
And there he was: Skritter's fitted plaid trousers enhanced the muscles in his legs and buttocks. As the sun shined on Him getting off the plane, His silk white shirt intensified the size of his pectorals, chiseled by Michelangelo, himself. His shoulders were built by a simple weight training regiment: Shoulder presses at three sets of 10 reps. The amount of weight he used, in case one is curious and wants to start working out? 5.972 sextillion metric tons, the weight of the world.
As Skritter walked into the ballroom, he received his usual hero's welcome. Women wanted to be in his presence; men wanted to be seen with him. He walked over to the bar.
"Garçon," the Hero called, in his godly voice. "Henny, please."
"Skritter! Ermahgerd! You made it!" the nerd said, excitedly.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. When are we gonna ball, Kim?"
"Whenever you want, my gorgeous friend!" the nerd replied.
"Aight, bet." Skritter finished his drink in one gulp. "Check it up."
"But Skritter, there is no ball. Nor a hoop to play on," worried the fat, rich birthday boy.
"Real ballers don't need a ball to ball. It's just a way of life, bruh bruh."
In that instant, in front of every girl, boy, man and woman in that ballroom, Skritter jumped into the air. His Brooks Brothers alligator loafers were not made to play ball. But in that moment, those loafers withdrew from this universe and skipped to a parallel universe where they became Air Skritters. As he soared through the air, his back hair like an eagle's feathers embracing the crisp, cool air up there, Skritter cocked the imaginary ball behind his head with both hands. He rotated like a tornado. First, 360. Then, a 720. This merciful god chose to stop at 1080. And, with a force unseen by any soul on this side of the universe, a power that would cause the destruction of a pygmy planet, Skritter dunked on little Kim Jong-un. The birthday boy could taste mountain oysters, Skritter's family recipe perfected through each generation. It's peach-fuzzed deep-fried skin shocking his taste-buds and reverberating through his skull, like a concussive blow from the late Sean Taylor (for whom B.A. Skritter held a deep appreciation). And a ball, from whatever parallel universe Skritter just transported to and fro, hit the hardwood floor of the ballroom.

Little Rocketman (Kim Jong - Un Diss)(BONUS TRACK)

Café Risqué (ABRIDGED ALBUM VERSION)

Stay Inside

Back Up

WBDR 88.1.9 FM- Mochachino In The Mornings

WBDR- BIG DAWG, BIG BUCKS

88.2 RAVE FM Sofie Softer- Just A Few Dollars

Places (prod. by Naira Kariya)

Have you hurt your back at work? Let Skritter, Steinberg, Feldman & Johnson work FOR YOU! We will fight to get you the money YOU DESERVE!

Skritter, Steinberg, Feldman & Johnson- No Hurto U Backa (Skrittish Version)

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