Retard Anthem (Prod. TYMASON)

Disstrack on LittleJitCuhdy, Revealing what needed to be said.

The Fall Of LittleJitCuhdy (Prod. Keman)

[Intro]

Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the forehead of the century! Step back, I’m about to drop a forehead bomb on ya. Helmets recommended!

[Verse 1]

You got a brain so big your skull got jealous.
When you walk through doorways, it says, “Mind the trestles.”

Forehead’s so wide it’s hosting its own zip code.
I need a map and a compass just to hit the motherlode.

The mirror calls you “General,” commands your reflection.
Every time you nod, it’s a seismic erection.

Hairline’s on sabbatical, sent a postcard from Fiji.
Your dome’s street legal, it’s a billboard, believe me.

Your forehead’s so vast, it’s got its own gravitational pull.
When you think, the whole world shakes, it’s interstellar cool.

[Pre-Chorus]

I see that shine when the sun hits your front yard.
NASA’s planning a probe; they heard it’s extra hard.

A ten-acre field for the thoughts to roam.
Wish I had that space to call my own.

[Chorus]

Big brow boogie, shake that dome (Oh yeah!).
Forehead’s a mansion, gotta call it home (Call it home!).
All that real estate, every inch a throne (Bow down!).
Big brow boogie, don’t ever roam (Stay right there!).

[Verse 2]

You press your shades on, try to block the glare,
But your forehead’s a solar panel, blinding everywhere.

When you think about it, the world’s too small.
You got more headroom than the Martian Mall.

People line up like tourists just to catch a glance
At the five-alarm forehead that’s got its own dance.

You could rent that space for billboard ads.
“Big Brow Brewing,” sold out, plus “Forehead Fad Diets” mags.

Your forehead’s a wonder, a sight to behold.
It’s got its own weather, partly cloudy, partly bold.

[Pre-Chorus]

Nah, you ain’t vain; you’re just well supplied
With acreage up front where the ideas collide.

I’d get jealous if I weren’t so amused.
Man, you’re carrying continents just to spread the news.

[Chorus]

Big brow boogie, shake that dome (Oh yeah!).
Forehead’s a mansion, gotta call it home (Call it home!).
All that real estate, every inch a throne (Bow down!).
Big brow boogie, don’t ever roam (Stay right there!).

[Bridge]

When the lightning strikes, it hits you first.
Your forehead’s a stage, it quakes and it bursts.

You don’t need a spotlight, you ARE the blaze.
The sky itself bows down in a daze.

When the forehead moves, mountains tremble, and oceans part.
It’s a natural wonder, a true work of art.

Wanna hide? Nah, you’d need a bunker deep.
Your forehead’s a fortress; it never sleeps.

So lean in close, feel the ground quake.
When your brow does the boogie, the whole earth shakes.

[Chorus x2 (call and response style)]

Big brow boogie, shake that dome (You shake it!).
Forehead’s a mansion, gotta call it home (My home!).
All that real estate, every inch a throne (All mine!).
Big brow boogie, don’t ever roam (I won’t!).

[Outro]

Forehead’s so epic it writes its own songs.
Keep that brow high, you can’t go wrong.

Big brow boogie, feel the bass roam.
That forehead’s your kingdom, welcome home.

And by the way, it’s got its own social media account
With millions of followers, trending now, no doubt!

Big Brow Boogie

''fixed'' version, tweaked some irks:
https://soundcloud.com/whitelutch/hit-or-miss-dl/s-sMfTPnnMyaB?si=63c362c1cb494875bb5534406c7781ad&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing


We back, we better, we on

Album cover background shamelessly stolen from duwang_chungus (non profit)
Prod ayorazebeats




LYRICS:

(I ain't ever fuck with chum, baby)
They tryna force my hands
And I ain't interested
I'm just running straight for the goal
You see me aimin' this
I ain't have no shame
Better know that I ain't hit or miss
I'm spinning on these rappers
Come and go I know they fiend a diss  

I do not tell any lies
They praying on my demise
I swear to god people hating on me, but like coal under pressure I'm fine 
and a diamond
I know one day I'll be shining
Good things are coming to me cause I'm patient
I know I just gotta keep grinding 

Yo Mr Squidward, oh shit
Why is that boy Lutch still rapping like this
Came with impressions they really ain't it
He late to the game and he copying it
I ain't tryna be typecast
But I don't even really mind that
I am not lookin' to get a career
But I will kill a rapper I'm like that so I'm  

Hoppin' on this beat to fight back
I'm Tekken Eight, with this Iron Fist
I'm with Krabs, the team if he slide that 
It's a marvel the way that I slide back
If you stepping to me pull the slide back

Salty but I ain't gon' let em in' 
Comin' through call me Invader Zim
I'm grippin' the clarinet, matter fact, run it back 
Gripping a hammer, I'm turning 'em Patrick, 
I'm smacking down heads like they're nails, assaulting
I ain't tryna catch a case like I'm Melly
I'm just tryna get these bitches like Kelpy
I'm just tryna get this money like Squilly
Teaming up with the Man Ray if they Silly
And I'm with Miss Appear
If that grass tryna press make him disappear
If I'm telling the truth I might kill him here

I do not tell any lies
They praying on my demise
I swear to god people hating on me, but like coal under pressure I'm fine 
and a diamond
I know one day I'll be shining
Good things are coming to me cause I'm patient
I know I just gotta keep grinding

I stay in the frame I let em know just like a watermark
Pushing out the box I'm from the bottom tryna start an arc
Move outta my way I stop them lookin' with a question mark
Scheming like I'm ominous, want me to walk the plank
I walk him down and leave him phosphorus
Clawing at my feet but I ain't tryna be innocuous
They press with no accomplishments
Knocking at the motherfuckin' door I'll tear this bucket down
Credit where it's due I know for sure they banking on me now

They tryna force my hands
And I ain't interested
I'm just running straight for the goal
You see me aimin' this
I ain't have no shame
Better know that I ain't hit or miss
I'm spinning on these rappers
Come and go I know they fiend a diss  

I do not tell any lies (no lie, no lie)
They praying on my demise
I swear to god people hating on me, but like coal under pressure I'm fine 
and a diamond 
I know one day I'll be shining (all I see is gold)
Good things are coming to me cause I'm patient
I know I just gotta keep grinding

HIT OR MISS

This ain’t your grandma’s pool party. “Pool Pool” is a full-on disaster soaked in jizz, piss, beer, and bad decisions. 8 greasy dudes high off their asses, wrestling like rabid raccoons in a collapsing above-ground pool that smells like a gas station urinal. Big Steve and Vince are butt-naked, swimming sloppy laps through semen soup, while Little Vinny’s on the deck strokin’ his dick like he’s live on pay-per-view—grunting, sweating, and dead-eye staring into the neighbor’s window.

This track is disgusting, depraved, and downright hilarious. You’ll laugh, gag, and maybe question your life choices.

#BallSackBoyz #PoolPool #JizzLagoon #NakedOlympics #StonerWrestling #LittleVinnyBeatinIt #ExplicitRap #DegenerateAnthem #BackyardTrashcore #WetAndWrecked #DisasterRap #WTFDidIJustListenTo

Pool Pool

Warning: This blob is built different… and by different, we mean spineless.
Brent was soft, squishy, and full of secrets. One minute he’s your homie, the next he’s leaking your group chat to his ex.

In this savage roast track, the Ball Sack Boyz go full beast mode on the biggest blob of betrayal since Jell-O turned on Bill Cosby. From backdoor deals to slimy sneak moves, Brent’s out here flexin’ disloyalty like it’s a hobby.

No arms. No legs. Just lies.
This track will have you laughing, cringing, and double-checking your friend circle.
Explicit. Petty. Hilarious.

Brent the Backstabbin’ Blob

Ball Sack Boyz present their most ruthless roast yet — “Rob the G Fraud” — a filthy, funny, and fully explicit diss track about a wannabe gangster named Rob Anderson.

This dude thinks he’s a white G.D. from St. Paul, talks like an Italian mobster, throws up gang signs like a drunk toddler, and lives in the Northland with his uncle in a busted-ass hatchback that sounds like explosive diarrhea when the subwoofer hits. 🤡

He steals Starter jackets at school dances, bumps Too Short like he’s in the Bay, and carries 40s in his pants like they’re family jewels.
Now it’s time to put his fraud-ass life on blast.

🎙 Performed by:

E-Ratt – Savage street commentary

T-Dump – Loud, rude & unfiltered

Soggy G – Straight lyrical disrespect

🚽 Produced by Flush It Records
💥 100% SATIRE | 100% EXPLICIT | 0% STREET CRED

⚠️ Not for kids. Not for Rob. Just for the culture.
#BallSackBoyz #RobTheGFraud #ComedyRap #FlushItRecords

Rob the G Fraud (Fuck Outta Here)

🎧 “Little-John-John” – Ball Sack Boyz (Official Roast Track)
The Ball Sack Boyz are back… and they just bodybagged the most pathetic man in Northland history.

💀 This 20-verse comedy rap track tells the filthy, jaw-dropping, diarrhea-sounding life story of Little-John-John — a compulsive liar, fake gangsta, mullet-rockin’, racist janitor who got his ass kicked by life, love, and literally everybody he’s ever met.

From fake karate classes to claiming he’s the CEO of Best Buy while mopping up aisle 4, this dude’s story is so fucked up, we had to immortalize it in song.

⚠️ NSFW / Explicit / Offensively funny
🎯 100% satire — 0% apologies

👇 Tag your homies who lie like John-John
#BallSackBoyz #LittleJohnJohn #ComedyRap #DissTrack #FilthyBars #LoserAnthem #ExplicitAF



Little-John-John (The Legend of a Loser)

 Ball Sack Boyz – Skyline Sausage Party (Uncut N’ Unemployed)
[Explicit Parody Rap | Comedy | White Trash Anthems | 2025]

Welcome to Skyline Boulevard… where the 40s are warm, the scabs are crusty, and it’s always a sausage party.
This wild 20-verse banger tells the tragic tale of five wannabe gangstas from a white-ass town with no hoes, no weed, and no self-awareness.
Narrated by the Ball Sack Boyz (Ball Sack, Crusty D & Jizzy J), this track roasts:

– E-Ratt: rail-thin, rocks borrowed JC Penny fits, airballs layups.
– Big Ben: says the N-word (no hard R), but can't shoot for shit.
– Brewster: big-ass head, knees look like burnt pepperonis.
– Little-T: 90 lbs of saggy-pants delusion.
– Ben’s Bro: yellow teeth, red Escort, thinks he's a legend.

They rob with plastic knives.
They limp like pimps with hip replacements.
They freestyle like goats with head trauma.
And they sleep together on a futon like it’s totally normal.

🔥 This is trash rap at its finest.
🔊 Crank it loud, crack a 40, and embrace the dumb.

#BallSackBoyz #SkylineSausageParty #WhiteTrashRap #ExplicitParody #NoHoesNoHope #MaltLiquorAnthems



Skyline Sausage Party

Brace yourself for the most ignorant, hilarious, and disrespectfully raw roast track ever made. “Wanksta, Wanksta!” is the Ball Sack Boyz’ savage parody of wannabe white gangstas from the trailer park who talk tough, dress like failed rappers, and flex food stamps like they platinum chains.

Ball Sack Boyz go all in on this dirty, boom-bap beat — sprayin’ lyrical diarrhea all over fake thugs with no jobs, no game, and no clue. With 16 filthy verses and a hook that hits like expired malt liquor, this is pure comedy rap gold from the kings of cringe.

🎤 Explicit. Vulgar. Trailer-made.
🔥 100% Ball Sack Energy.

🔊 TURN IT UP and embrace the WANKSTA inside you.

Wanksta, Wanksta!

The Blatz Boyz return with their filthiest, most desperate anthem yet. Trapped in their piss-stained apartment on Ramsey Street, they’re BEGGING for YouTube subscribers so they can afford more Phillips Vodka, Side Pocket, 211, HG800, and 37 cartons of discount smokes. They'll do anything for a few subs—wipe truck stop toilets, eat mystery meat, even clean a gas station urinal with their tongues.

This grotesque rap from the graveyard of 1980s parody rap is so filthy it might get banned. Liquor voices. Slurred rhymes. Moldy beats. You’ll gag, you’ll cry, you’ll SUBSCRIBE.

🪦 Blatz or Die
🔞 Parental Advisory: Explicit Grotesque Trash
📺 YouTube: Subscribe or they dry up and croak
🍺 Flush It Records 2025

SUBSCRIBE OR WE DIE (OF THIRST)

Track 1 from IBM’s debut album Flush the World — a violent, disgusting, and hilarious booze-fueled parody of N.W.A.’s “Straight Outta Compton.”
This is blackout rap from the gutter. Filthy harmonies, broken freestyles, and 40 oz. dreams.

🔥 Parental Advisory: Extremely explicit
🎤 Performed by IBM
💿 Label: Flush It Records
📍Location: The Booze Lodge (behind the liquor store)

Listen to more:
▶️ YouTube: https://youtube.com/@flushitrecords?si=q3JFKNhz4eOZyCn5
📱 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/1CzFqB8W3c/?mibextid=wwXIfr

#IBM #StraightOuttaBoozeLodge #FlushItRecords

Straight Outta Booze Lodge

Christmas is ruined—again.
Insane Booze Mafia returns with a vulgar, hilarious, and horrifying motel holiday meltdown. Strippers tweaking, beer bottles everywhere, and one man just trying to get drunk in peace.
🎄 Recorded in a motel bathroom. Mixed on a stolen laptop.
🎧 Also available on:
• YouTube 👉 https://youtube.com/@flushitrecords?si=q3JFKNhz4eOZyCn5
• Suno 👉 https://on.soundcloud.com/jxrDv2rkURKcMJgduO
• Facebook 👉 https://www.facebook.com/share/1CzFqB8W3c/?mibextid=wwXIfr

🅿️ Parental Advisory: Explicit Content
🩸 Produced by Flush It Records
🪦 RIP Christmas

🔖 SoundCloud Hashtags (Copy & Paste):
#InsaneBoozeMafia #FlushItRecords #Methmas #DrunkRap #ChristmasChaos #ParentalAdvisory #RapRock #ExplicitMusic #Trashcore #DiveBarAnthem #HolidayHangdown #LoFiPunk #GutterRap



5 Days of Methmas (Holiday Hangdown)

🔥 FIREBALL – Insane Booze Mafia (IBM) [Official Track]
The official anthem for every drunk degenerate who thinks Fireball is holy water.
They bathe in it. They drink it in court. They feed it to their hamster.
This is Insane Booze Mafia in their most chaotic form yet.
Explicit. Raw. Psychotic. Drunk.

🎧 Listen on all platforms:
🎧 LISTEN HERE:
➡️ https://on.soundcloud.com/jxrDv2rkURKcMJgduO
📺 https://youtube.com/@flushitrecords?si=q3JFKNhz4eOZyCn5
📘 https://www.facebook.com/share/1CzFqB8W3c/?mibextid=wwXIfr
#IBM #FlushItRecords #FireballAnthem

FIREBALL

IMMA GANGSTA | Official Audio Track | A Hilarious, Badass Rap

Not all gangsters roll in blacked-out SUVs—some strut down the street in fresh Nike trainers, dodging responsibilities and living off vibes (and maybe a little cannabis). IMMA GANGSTA is a tongue-in-cheek, no-holds-barred rap sing-along, where heartbreak meets hilarity, and tough love comes with a side of sarcasm. From a mother who packed her bags to a father who packed ''her' bags, this track is a rebellious, ridiculous, and ridiculously catchy ode to survival with swagger.

For legal reasons, I must now tempt you with a link—-This is the part where you click, stream, and question everything ⬇️🎤

https://social.tunecore.com/linkShare?linkid=nyg7w3FAZHhTaXAgCnnJAQ

The Story Behind the Song:

Some people rise from the ashes—others get kicked out first. IMMA GANGSTA was written on a night fueled by caffeine, questionable life choices, and the undeniable truth that sometimes, you just gotta own the chaos. Inspired by real-life struggle, a little bit of exaggeration, and a whole lot of comedic gold, this song is for anyone who’s ever had to laugh to keep from crying. And yes—Nike trainers are part of the uniform.

IMMA GANGSTA

parody songa
sample by minato
dj vilda ontop

OCHII + WESTSIDE09 + DJ VILDA -  nanukovy slupky

💩 Flush It Records – Where the underground overflows.

We ain’t just one genre—we’re a full-blown sewer pipe of sound. From raunchy rap to outlaw country, metal sludge to reggae haze, punk rock brawls to hip-hop hysteria, Flush It Records is the filthy buffet you didn’t ask for—but can’t stop listening to.

🎤 Satirical AI bangers, dive-bar anthems, stoner jams, toilet humor classics, and unfiltered fire from the weirdest corners of every genre. Our artists don’t chase trends—they piss on ‘em.

🚽 We don’t polish turds—we weaponize them.
🧻 Wipe away the mainstream—Flush It’s floodin’ the system.
🔥 Country, rap, reggae, rock, comedy, metal… if it’s loud, raw, and wrong—we’re on it.

Follow us. Stream the chaos.
💀 Welcome to the throne room.

Check out our YouTube Channel! https://www.youtube.com/@FlushitRecords

British Born professional recording artist and voiceover talent. I sing, I act, I narrate, I sell things you didn’t know you needed — and I mean every word (and every note). Expect songs that hit the heart, voices that fit the moment, and the occasional rough gem straight from my bedroom vault.

I love playing with words, finding new ways to put them together to express what I feel. I hope my poems encourage others to share their feelings openly and honestly. My aim is to paint pictures with words, making them sing in a way that touches everyone's heart and mind. Through my poetry, I want to create moments that everyone can see themselves in, exploring emotions and thoughts that connect us all.

New tracks tagged #ParodyRap