Oh No No

Keep it flowin’, keep it flowin’,
Don’t stop, don’t slow,
Keep it flowin’, keep it flowin’,
Life move just roll

at work tonight, I ain't taking the mask off
might Take Acid and throw on the mascot
run around the street like a freak deep searching for weed
Ripping off my head, scared a kid, Now my grade an F

and the F stands for fuck the rules, and fuck school
I could fuck the world, if I stood atop a stool
got suspended for ascending, guess I'm just too cool
now I’m building from the fall, still defy every tool

the way that I elevate, I defy to gravitate
drop another tape, anybody wanna celebrate?
drop the time of day, I'm timeless, I'm never late
built from my mistakes, impossible to replicate

Every flaw’s a stroke, I’m a statue in motion,
pain carved me clean like devotion in stone,
took chips to the soul, made it pure, made it golden,
I shine through the cracks, and I just kept it glowing

Keep it flowin’, keep it flowin’,
Don’t stop, don’t slow,
Keep it flowin’, keep it flowin’,
Life move just roll

Keep it flowin’, let it roll,
Ain’t no stoppin’, that’s the goal,
Every hit I took a toll,
Still I step and that’s control.

Yeah, I'm the man with a plan for myself
the pain taught game, now I move in with stealth
I might talk cheap, but the work speak itself
and I don't make beats, that's bad for ya health

I still don’t sleep, I’m stuck in my head,
thoughts loop beats while I lay in my bed,
dreamin’ of peace but I’m chasin’ the bread,
every move I make, I gotta keep that edge

Spotify still thinks that I'm seventeen,
same loops, same moods, same dopamine,
I’m scrollin’ for growth in a glitched machine,
I Create what I don't find in a worn-out scene.

every click feel sacred, a monk in the wax,
my underground sermons play deep out the cracks,
no playlist hits or label-fed tracks,
I want soul talk, where the pain relapse.

Relax, I'll re-rap and Increase the climax
read raps, and eat snacks
I lean back and mean that.
clean tracks, no feedback,
I Dream stacks, i need that
fiend rap, like bean bags
I scheme maps, in ski mask 
relapse of Blue banded cash
like the bruise on her kneecaps

Keep It Flowin

C+ in Botany? What The Fuck.
I cant do anything right.
except for write.

bit of a bite, But I've never been the botanist.
C's get degrees, less talk from the optimist
please in my prime so I feel just like I'm optimis
In reality it's really quite the opposite

up in that community college, no hot commodity
I go from a stoner to getting knowledge 
all you wannabe is nothing 
I'm here to turn my nothing into something

rapping in my bonnet it's a bucket hat
studying my sonnets, where's the money at
pleasure in my noggin at a 10 
when i'm spitting hot lava-man (B

babbling dyslexic with a flow that shocks collar
hectic dialectic when I spit like top scholar
smoke until I'm elder barly living helter skelter 
in the back in my mind a bomb shelter

I'm a Hip-Hop-Scotcher
with crisscross posture
- - No Rick-Ross
but I big boss proper

the Hip-Hop-Scotcher
I'm the Hip-Hop, Hip-hop-

bald head girl in my phone and I blocked her
all dead soul lost home, call a doctor
Heard about trains that are parked up in proctor
Learned about the brain not the heart, psychologic

what's your biggest motivator? 
I'm self-determinated
CCC big words abbreviated
connection, control, and competence
anything I do, Yo, i do it with confidence
-
I'm like a mailman the way I deliver
-
a rusty nail how I'm sending a shiver
doing damage to your mental
like the liquor to liver
or the pen to the paper
or that girl you remember
you can never forget her
but you never stop trying, and trying
you'll never remember

What It's like to be yourself anymore
you're out the door to the drugstore
looking for more, you want to die
So you get high, smoking the time
until your grey, you erode in the haze
and lose face at your mom's place,
now everyday is another day
waiting to waste
you run away trynna find your find faith
and your lost eighth
tell me what your mom would say

now tell me what would God think?

of the Hip-Hop-Scotcher
with crisscross posture
- No Rick-Ross
but I big boss proper
I'm a Hip-Hop-Scotcher
with crisscross posture
- No Rick-Ross
but I big boss proper
The hip-hop scotcher
with crisscross posture
- No Rick Rock 
but I big boss big boss big fuck fuck fuck meeee

oh my god




Hip Hop$cotcher

Give me a Hook

Big Spitter

I had a grand and a half 
now it's gone in a month
I can't just call back, 
and ask for refund
I Spent 80 on the medication
another 80 on some clothes
that'll prolly end up at donation
Centers, like ain't nobody that be dressing better,
I be dripping like the waves and I'm only getting wetter
every single day I be dressing to the weather
i doesn't matter whether weather
is hot or cold
I'll be wearing all black, 
while I wither in my thee headed soul
like minecraft
my gold goes the fastest 
I told you I can't just
go practice my patience
and put all the money
into debts I dont pay
I suck at this chess
I'm better with backgammon
I bank on the bets
and pray to buy into high fashion
I hate to say that
I'm a gambling man
by the way that I play it
I'm just a rambling stag


the Money's going out
and I don't even count
can't see through the screen
I can't get in account

how I treat a little
is how I'll treat a lot
I'm feeling like a kid again
I barely have a job

the Money's going out
and I don't even count
can't see through the screen
I can't get in account

how I treat a little
is how I'll treat a lot
I'm feeling like a kid again
I barely have a job

And the one I do
I put a suit on
act silly with it
tickling my willy in it
hot and never chilly in it
here comes the yeti
smelling sweaty
In a minute
he'll be ready
get the money
feeling spendy
get the funny
feeling sendy
don't break rules
I bend them
no fake fools 
in attendance
when I come through
in a new school
I'ma stunt my independance
n hopefully away from the hate
and all the racists
but I know that anywhere I go that shit comes chasing
the white kids keep saying
that one word you know that they sayin


Where'd da Money go?

C into B

howled with the wolves, 
looking up at the stars
One night it was fine
two and three went too far
crawling on my knees
from dusk till the dawn
weren't just smoking weed
"what else were you on?"
middle of the night sniffing adderall'
"I wonder why your brain went from wall to wall"
"Son your burning hot, 
you should quit the pot
or else your brain will fade
and your body will rot.
for now go to sleep,
its been half a week
its the reason you've
been thinking that you're Jesus
son of christ wouldn't roll the dice like you did
3 days awake and You're barely human
you've hardly ate since yesterday's noon
Kid you're going insane, 
like your head's a balloon
might as well wait until the sun breaks the night
In the morning, cup of coffee and I'm feeling just fine

I Came down one time from the feeling of nightmares
I crawled into bed and just fought with the night terrors
Poat traumatic stress in my head and it felt like a virus
wall to wall I wreck ball like Miley cyrus

Came down one time from the feeling of nightmares
I crawled into bed and just fought with the night terrors
Post traumatic stress in my head and it felt like a virus

2nd Verse:
it's 12 AM and my phone broke yesterday
brother went to bed 'fore I said what I want to say
worried about rent this month, boy we better pay
sun went down last hour cause it's summertime
shadows come out, enticing me to hit a line
blue powder snot keeps sliding while I sit and cry
B) I think about my mom and how I almost died
so I take it to the street with my shoes untied
took a trail downlow to avoid mankind
cement still wet, from the rain last night
my arrival is met with a wave and a smile
a hug when I walk up, took seat and start spilling
drugs that I coughed up, converse about my pilling
concerned that my roommate's
convinced that I'm crazy
I see the blue sky, my glass eyes see grey and rainy.
I was worried he'd send me away like a loony
turns out the lack of meals got me moody

many more fears were bled and tears were shed
before my mother turned to me and said 
"It's time for bed, 
go rest your head
The rain is over
the sky is red
Don't worry bout the ward
we can find another way,
keep your nose in the books
you were born to be LewRayy"

Came down one time from the feeling of nightmares
crawled into bed and just fought with the night terrors
post traumatic stress in my head and it feels like a virus
wall to wall I wreck ball like Miley cyrus



A Cup of Real Shit

Dont Blame This.

“Low Life” is a cinematic Icelandic post-rock composition where droning distorted guitar, choir textures, and the Heima String Kvartett merge into an overwhelming wall of sound. Within the density, delicate string melodies, church organ harmonies, and slow-moving atmospheric post rock dynamics create a piece that shifts from heavy and immersive to fragile and intimate.

Mike Taylor’s church organ anchors the track in a cathedral-like resonance, while the layered strings drift between modern classical minimalism and widescreen instrumental soundtrack music.
A powerful, textured work that captures the sound of volcanic landscapes, deep emotional pressure, and slow-burning eruption.

This is Icelandic post rock with strings, rooted in cinematic expression, drone guitar atmospheres, and a glacial sense of space.

Musicians

Laxá

Jussi Siglarson – Guitar

Bjarne Guðjohnsen – Bass

Matthias Helguson – Drums

Mike Taylor – Keyboards / Church Organ

Heima String Kvartett
Lisbeth Heima – Violin
Sif Árnadóttir – Violin
Natasha Guðmundsdóttir – Viola
Ída Sigurðardóttir – Cello

FFO (For Fans Of)

Sigur Rós, Mogwai, Mono, Explosions in the Sky, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Russian Circles, Balmorhea, Ólafur Arnalds, Max Richter, Hammock

Hashtags

#Laxa #LowLife #IcelandicPostRock #CinematicPostRock #PostRockWithStrings #WallOfSound #DroningGuitar #ChoirTextures #ChurchOrganMusic #StringQuartet #ModernClassical #CinematicSoundtrack #AtmosphericPostRock #IcelandicMusic #InstrumentalPostRock #DarkAtmosphericMusic

Laxá – Low Life | Icelandic Post Rock • Cinematic Post Rock • Atmospheric Wall of Sound

These Guitars Say Sorry is the banner for a diverse range of artists, from UK singer-songwriter These Guitars Say Sorry to classical composer Jeremias Langsämmer along with his ensemble, Icelandic post-rock band Laxá with the Heima Kvartett, ambient artist Siegfried Jünger, and Doom Jazz ensemble The Dark Messiahs. Founded by Jez Stephen, who incepted all the projects, the label has released over 30 albums, crafting a unique sonic identity across genres.

Since 2021, These Guitars Say Sorry has released a track every week, later compiling them into albums available on all major platforms. Explore the catalog on Bandcamp: https://theseguitarssaysorry.bandcamp.com/ and support the work for as little as $1 a month on Patreon: www.patreon.com/tgss.

New tracks tagged #LowLife