Mono, This is dope fr! Great work. I would increase your stat this for you if you want. (link to my website is in my background picture)

Is this like a fan made account of samsas old deleted songs or is this samsa or is this a person becoming another samsa i cant tell

conch - samsa

Samsa Early

sometimes - samsa (prod. Proleter)

Samsa really Early

Plane - Samsa

Wait, hold up.  

Let me get this J rolled up

I’ll tell you motherfuckers 
what you gotta pay me for a verse
if you let me get the fucking payroll done 
 
Y’all could offer your first born child 
and I’d still bounce out like its’ girls gone wild, 
Style so killer that my words on bail, 
all my verbs in jail and my verse on trial 

all about the bass, no  treble 
first place on the track, gold medal
Shere never get into a situation 
where he gotta choose, never lose cause the Khan don’t settle 

y’all don’t move like your bikes won't pedal 
think you gon’ blow like your mics’ gunmetal
but that shit seem like planting a damn seed,
leavin’ it and hopin’ that it might grow petals 

think you mad cold but you tykes come gentle 
till’ you get popped like a tight blood vessel
y’all motherfuckers really going out of style
like some cowboy boots with the rhinestone pebbles

Line game sharp like a limestone pyramid
Y’all act hard but your rhymes don’t merit it,
The facts are that your act starts played out
and you lack bars like a backyard playground
but I rap like a track star makes rounds
when I go faster than nascar greyhounds 
Y’all burnouts are like racetrack flame-outs
looking at me spit a like spacecraft came down

Y’all rusty with dumbed down bars out
like parts found in a rundown car pound
My eight-track when it’s played back bar none	  
gets the crowd revved like a Maybach start sound

I really feel like you rappers need guidance
Y’all rap ‘bout the same three items,
freestyling bout’ weed, greed, violence, 
we don't need these from you, we need silence

Y’all say that my tracks need a damn hook
Fuck you, why don’t y’all hacks read a damn book
Y’all about as well-read as the self-help
shelf in a jail library cell in the backwoods


Yo, fuck the goons and dudes who confusing their 
youtube views as a proof of some movement 
All they do’s interviews and reviews
but there’s too few crews just improving their music
 
Y’all prolly like Khan’s being cinematic, 
I’m prolly like nah, see, I’m really mad
I was taught to keep my head down even when I’m at it
Then I see these cats getting green like a lily pad 

All these dogs got a dot com blog and a vlog
and a blah and a blah and a twitter page
It doesn’t matter how much shit you got up on the internet,
though bitch, if you all never been on stage


See, this shit’s gettin’ pretty old’ 
Some shitty ass kid makes a video 
with a shitty rap on a track that’s forgettable
Couple days pass, see him dance on the Ellen Show
to a damn crowd with some middle aged mom’s in it,
nearly puts me fit of rage watching it,
like they made it cause they rappin’ to celebrities

Someone tell me though, what happened to integrity?

Straight Bars Volume 1

prod. @jeffkaale

My exes? No, I don’t think about them
I shrink around them
I go to see my shrink about them
On desperate nights sometimes I’m liking every picture on their LinkedIn albums, 
just in case they’re single,
I send winky symbols, I just hint it at ‘em,
I’m not thirsty, I’m just counting fingers at the drinking fountain,
I feel like I’m drowning when I introduce myself to crowds: 
like hi, hello, I dig your sense of style, 
I saw your face across the room and grinned a while,
I wonder, are you into smiles? I pinned a pile of polaroids up on my wall, 
I wish you’d be in one,  a ring or child or wedding hall or aisle, you’d wouldn’t see in them, 
I must profess I self-profess myself a cinephile,
I’ve got every single indie title soundtrack out on indie vinyl
I’ve got some on USB, just tell me where to send the files,
if you think this is dragging on, then you should read my tinder bio,

I used to go to central park in cargo pants and whittle bark off little trees 
like Leonardo to my heart’s content, with car keys from my 97’ Civic on a bench,
I’d grab my metro card and clutch a cup of chocolate from a vendor cart,
and then depart deep underground and check the clock and metro chart,
and that is where I met her, charcoal fingers, she was sketching art, 
my self-regard leapt twenty notches when she looked at me,
I told her I wished I could etch the world out with my pencil marks,
she held the charcoal out, our fingers touched and crept apart,
and when they lingered, 
lightning struck, I know, I saw electrodes spark,
and when she smiled a hundred volts
her pearly whites were thunderbolts,
the room around us did a couple somersaults,
the earth had shifted off it’s poles,
another jolt went through me when she twirled her necklace
we were so electric, I swear the third rail was getting jealous

she curved a crater on the paper with the conté crayon
every stroke she lay spoke to my spirit like she called a séance
her fingertips could conjure chaos, every splash of color camouflaged 
into the page, I swear that she had lingerie on,
I felt the rumble of the subway tunnel crumble up
she perforated scraps of sketches, gave em’ to me crumpled up, 
and bundled up and waved to me and walked toward the edge 
I mustered up the strength to wave back and then dipped off of the bench
the train tiptoed to the ledge, it’s open doors demanded entry
she got in and whispered to me from inside that it was empty
and my heart, it started drumming, my stomach, it started numbing,
the doors began to slide, 

and then she asked me,
are you coming?


charcoal. // X I X X

merry christmas, everyone <3
thank you for an incredible year

shout out to everyone who worked on this:
@yungestbae (thanks for the godly beat <3)
@iamsamsa (if you need track art, hit him up)
@atwoodotj
@ibr
@chriswright53
@toccimc
@hheadhaunter
@boof-radley
@offthejump

merry Bhristmas

no one ever said (feat. samsa & the otj crew) (prod. yung bae)

Written & Recorded by: Reed Pake
Produced by: https://soundcloud.com/ibr
Engineered by: https://soundcloud.com/ibr, Blindsightmix & John Garcia
Sample Credits: "Autumn in New York" by Kenny Burrell Quartet (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1E31yVClW4)

Special thanks to Ibrahim for letting me hop on his amazing beat. Follow Ibrahim and the rest of the https://soundcloud.com/offthejump crew for some awesome & innovative music!

LYRICS:

Verse 1:
Yesterday I found my Asics from eleventh grade/
Dirty and decayed, I'd say they've seen their better days/
I crept my feet inside to not inflame my ankle sprain/
They seemed to fit okay but they just didn't feel the same/
And it’s a shame, I remember the day they came into my presence/
Never restin’, always hittin' the ground of my town to start trekkin’/
Seven days a week I’d tread the street so free, felt like a legend/
Steppin' to the present where the wonder continued to lessen/
My toys I used to cherish are now relics of the past/
I start to wonder why I used to relish in this crap/
So I put them in a bag to trash, but I am too attached/
I wander to my attic, stuffin' them into a stash/
Late nights at the movies no longer have any beauty/
Once a haven, my bedroom has grown to be borin’ and gloomy/
My house that used to seem so roomy now feels kinda puny/
Why has my home of 20 years become so foreign to me?/

Hook:
I’m changin’/
Yeah I feel that I’m changin’/
Tradin’ the boonies for a new me, it’s cliche what I’m pursuing/
But a life that's plain is what I am eschewing/
Man I guess that I’m changin’/
Damn I think like I’m changin’/
But I know what I am doing there is no way that I’m losing this passion that I got inside brewing/
I’m -/

Verse 2:
Cruisin’ in the back of an uber perusin' tweets/
My screen is like a window to the life I used to lead/
And my window’s like a screen where the view is a lucid dream/
Hypnotized by the lights that ooze and bleed on Druid street/
It’s new to me, I used to be able to sleep to crickets chirpin’/
Now I drift away to hobos blurtin’ sermons from my cutrains/
And I’m pretty certain my apartment smells a bit like urine/
It was disconcertin’ but I'm gettin’ used to livin’ urban/ 
I’m traversin' in and out of bafflin' amounts of scaffoldin’/
To get a seat inside of the T, I’m Mortal Kombat Battlin’/
These people clumped together when I want them to be scatterin’/
And bouncin' off of me like liquid atoms when I’m travelin’/
Imaginin’ that honkin' horns emit the sounds of instruments/
In marchin’ bands to celebrate my entrance/
Cause fuck my insignificance, I’ll quit trippin' in pigeonshit/
I didn’t move to the city to abandon what my mission is/

Spotify/Apple Music

Changin' (prod. ibrahim)

prod. @xmittens
mixed by @ibr

lyrics: https://genius.com/Samsa-technocrat-lyrics

technocrat

prod. @abembeats
mix. @ibr

Lyrics:
Andromeda galaxy's outside the window, and I've been adrift by the crystals that wink out in harmony/ 
signals deflect through the pinholes that alternate blinks with their colorless glow/
I slip through the folds in a ship that escaped its bottle, I got the whole hull, painted all gold/
cold in the cosmos, brain unfurls into a 1970's space-age novel/

now the Pinwheel galaxy is outside the window, the windshield cracks accentuate the starlight/
off-white spheres of ice are circled in the mist, the shadows of the solar system huddled 'round the bonfire/
but I'm drifting past in a bucket of bolts that's stuck in a solar wind gust of comet tail dust/
in abundance rushing towards the crust of everything that ever was and ever will be, I'm just hoping that my feet don't fail me/

a universe in a tea cup, need to be beamed up, need a key to release, the secrets sealed up/
need a seat to see the freedom, I seek, I sleep seasons, seems infeasible/
it's a voyage, I need to repair the pipes that burst in imagination systems, that flooded up with a vengeance/
and caused a slipstream that swallowed me whole from out the Tadpole galaxy and turned my ship into a tiny crumpled ball of wreckage/

like fuck, there's nothing outside of the window, except for a star-gate sequence on loop/
and I float out there, listless, spiraling inside dimensions that had all their ceilings removed/
in an arcade game long forgot in the backroom, I can't breathe and I'm doomed, deep in this vacuum/
it's almost tranquil, zoned out in my helmet, this vanishing act was.. past-due/

Voyager

prod. @biskwiq
mix. @biskwiq
art. me

Lyrics:
I surfed an upward spiral through the roof, left a me-shaped hole/
and climbed a waterfall of muted blues up on a dream-made boat/
emerald green flames rose right out my prototype Vans/
the pyrotechnics never wait until my motorbike lands/

see my overnight plans are more than just a little up in the air/
might B&E the glass ceiling that isn't under repair/
might go visit far reaches, hit big red buttons, get clear/ 
while that famous Lady Luck's still picking something to wear/

I'm falling up the rabbit hole with unknown means of propulsion/
they shot the scene without green screens, and couldn't keep me in focus/  
with Roger Deakins behind the camera, I'm skydiving backwards/
with altered breathing, no CGI here to spice up the tracking/

I've got my vision pointed upwards like a Tarantino trunk shot/
but I'm scared to see the sunk costs of the carabiners I bought
to secure myself to one spot, just to lift off regardless

What if Icarus said somethign like "Engaging thrusters!"/
and flew past the sun with no major malfunctions/
and proved them all wrong, he'd be so far above them/
no doubt, he'd be so far above them/


I booked my residence in Howl's Moving Castle to travel/
in and out through a black hole with trajectories measured down to the fractals/
projected out cannons on mecha shoulders/
suspended for several moments as gravity set in motion/

I float to the top, carried by sounds of ondes Martenots/ 
the growth of snow particles aren't optimal but par for the course/
they're all talk, they don't think the goal's possible/
they scoffed and wrote articles so volatile to harm every source/

I used to build these wax wings, working too many days and/
never lackadaisical, like Perfect Blue animation/
bursting through the gates of Tarturus' basement/ 
with a certain agent to make a person "SAY WHAT?"/

take a tour through my humble abode/
furnishings covered by those, poorly drawn blueprints that show/
ships that separate at two-stages, rocket boot laces un-tied/
while fuel gauges are blinking red/


The cabin is violently shaking, life support systems are failing/
station below us is saying "engage your thrusters!"
the windscreen's cracking and breaking, co-pilot's silently praying
station below us is saying "engage your thrusters!"
x2

Spotify!

Engage Thrusters (prod. biskwiq)

Samsa - Conch 

This was on his vlog channel 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M08TmhTTQfI&ab_channel=samsavlogs

conch - samsa

kimmy

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