Song Lyrics:

You know what it is…
I got you next to me right now…

Lodged by a lift chair,  après cup still lit, 
snow in my slippers, sippin' something legit. 
Bluetooth speaker bumpin’, altitude on stun,
Wrote yelp about the clouds…roomy, five stars…sun
Aniko radios…Opa that chair ain't free
Could somebody just… 

Apres Cup

“¿Qué pasa?”—I’m flossin’ in Old San Juan, 
Muscle shirt louder than a reggaetón dawn. 
Rum in my cold brew, SPF on the chain, 
Called my ex “portfolio,” gotta diversify the pain. 
Chart’s in the red? I paint it Yves Klein blue, 
F Sharp Minor chords crying while I need you to… 

Hah ha

Silk robe on in Seoul, tofu stew too hot, 
Ani orders in Korean, I just nod a lot. 
Half our date I’m lost—like, “What does ‘화장실’ mean?” 
But she laughs, buys me shoes, calls me “babo” so clean. 
DMZ to Lotte Mall, I’m a walking meme, 
Tears in my Tteokbokki like, “Someone scream…”
 
Golden DJ booth at XS—“newcomer slot, 1 a.m.” 
Ani tips the light tech, turns my set to a hologram. 
Next day Encore Beach Club—shark-fin cabana shade, 
Pool girls ride inflatable swans for stockbrokers on parade. 
My drink comes in a pineapple that costs more than my room key, 
Pineapple grins, wallet thins—sunburn says...

Scream

Wake up to something warm, cheeky, and smooth. "Sugar in My Coffee, Spice in My Day" is a playful jazz number that simmers with flirtation and steams with swing. From barista glances to the boldness of a well-poured brew, this is your morning anthem for a little spice in your step and sweetness in your soul.

🎙 Jazz Vocals | ☕ Barista Romance | 🎶 Flirtatious Swing

[LYRICS]

Sugar in my coffee... (mmm-mmm)
Spice in my day... (spicy, baby)

Sugar in my coffee,
Spice in my day.
A barista’s wink—
I might just stay.

Roasted beans,
Toasted soul,
Steam between us,
No self-control.

Sugar in my coffee... (Mmm, I like it hot)  
Spice in my day... (Hit me with that shot)

I need my fix,
And it ain’t the potion.
It’s the curve you pour,
With a teasing motion.

Light roast, dark eyes
A double-take.
You ask, “Cream?”
Ohh, for heaven’s sake...

You're the rush I sip,
And my shot of youth.
The cup says caution—
but hell to that notion.

I come for a fix,
But it ain’t the brew.
Name’s spelled wrong
Yet I purr when you do.

Whipped cream, you say?
For you alone — Indeed I am.
You smirked, then swirled
And I am all “Yes, Ma’am.”

Then sugar, you ask?
Ohh yes — indeed you are.
You smile and point
To the sugar jar.

Not just the grind,
Not just the brew…

I lift the cap,
And there is your tease.
The heart you drew…
Just aims to please.

Not just the grind.
Not just the brew.
I come for the fix
But I stay for you.

Whipped, sugared, and stirred,
It’s all right there - 
In that cup you brewed,
And the feeling I bare.

Sugar in my coffee... (Mmm, I like it hot)  
Spice in my day... (Hit me with that shot)

Yeah, you’re the Sugar and Spice in my day.

Sugar in My Coffee, Spice in My Day

AROB Try Out Mix for Flora

Sanctuary

A cheeky, rowdy pub-folk anthem from The Bottom o’ the Barrel, closing out their riotous Maggie trilogy. From bar brawls to bedroom grins, I Am Now Steady with Maggie is a foot-stomping tribute to the lass who tamed the wildest heart. She’s bold, bossy, boots-on—and every lad’s envy. With echoes, stomps, and sly winks, this final tale raises a pint to mischief, mayhem, and a love too loud to hush.

[LYRICS]

Now her and me are steady, no lie,
She rules the roost and winks me dry.
She slaps me bum then pours the brew
A queen with boots and brass to woo.

"Well, she’s his from boot to brow,
And every lad still wonders how."

She’s sly with lists upon the door,
And chalks me chores across the floor.
I claim forgettin’—play the fool,
She smirks and sends me off to school.

"Well, she’s his from boot to brow,
And every lad still wonders how."

They tease me hard from dusk till night,
But envy drips beneath their bite.
They’ve seen her grin and how she sways
And wish her heart would swing their way.

"Well, she’s his from boot to brow,
And every lad still wonders how."

All pints go up for Maggie’s name,
She’s wild and sharp and none can tame.
But I’m the fool she chose to keep
The rest just dream and cry in sleep!

"Aye, she’s his from boot to brow,
And every lad still wonders how."

She’ll press me up with naught but grin,
Then scold me loud for what’s within.
At half past two, she starts a row
Then drags me off—won’t say quite how.

"Well, she’s his from boot to brow,
And every lad still wonders how."

She hides me boots, then makes me stew,  
Just to see what I might do.  
I huff and puff and stomp about
She just winks and knocks me out.  

"Well, she’s his from boot to brow,  
And every lad still wonders how." 

I’ve learned me place and earned me crown,
She riles me up, then lays me down.
The wild she brings, I wouldn’t trade
For peace or pint or chambermaid.

"Well, she’s his from boot to brow,
And every lad still wonders how."

"So raise your cheer and shout her name
No finer lass has stoked a flame!"

"Maggie’s his from boot to brow,
And every lad still wonders how."

Steady with Maggie (Lyrics Below)

Dankeschön (Wayne Newton vs Biggie) Alro's reinterpretation

A cheeky, acoustic-leaning take on barroom chaos and charm. This fireside session version rolls with warm guitar, soft fiddle, and the storytelling spirit of a late-night pint. Told through singable verses and playful wit, it’s mischief with melody — for those who prefer their pub songs with a touch of tenderness and plenty of spilled ale.

[LYRICS]

I punched the jukebox for a jig,
Spilled half me pint on Old Man Briggs.
He cursed, I laughed, then took a bow,
The crowd just roared — they liked it now.

Slipped on a boot that wasn’t mine,
Kissed the wrong lass — said, “You’ll do fine.”
Got slapped so hard I saw the stars,
The band struck up — I missed me bars!

Raise yer mugs and bang the floor!
We’ve all been thrown out once or more!
Love and bruises, rum and sin—
And I’d bloody do it all again!

AND I’D BLOODY DO IT ALL AGAIN!
HEY!

Won a card game with a stolen ace,
Till Maggie’s cousin showed his face.
He swung a stool — I ducked and tripped,
And knocked the barkeep as I slipped.

She spilled gin down me bloody shirt,
Said “Pay me back, you cheeky flirt!”

I grinned, she poured, then said “Alright
Now mop it up — or take a bite!

I said: “Who drank all the bitter, boys?”
“YOU DID, LAD — and made some noise!”
I said: “Who kissed someone’s mum last night?”
“YOU DID, LAD — AND SAID SHE’S RIGHT!”

They chased me round the busted drum,
I hid behind the barmaid’s bum.

She winked, I ducked — we kissed again,
She said, “Next round? You’re buyin’, then.”

Woke up wedged ‘tween stool and door,
Me boots were swapped, me knuckles sore.
A note was pinned to me left thigh:
“You owe three drinks and one black eye.”

The priest walked in with Maggie’s hat—
I said, “She’s not mine! …Well, not like that!”

He prayed, I cursed, then rang the bell
“Let holy water come from hell!”

Raise yer mugs and bang the floor!
We’ve all been thrown out once or more!
Love and bruises, rum and sin—
And I’d bloody do it all again!

And I’d bloody do it all again!
Aye, I’d bloody do it all again!

With me boots, me sins, me grin
I’d bloody do it ALL again!
So fill that pint and count me in!

Hell’s Bells and Empty Barrels

🍻 This Rowdy Life is a cheeky, boisterous pub-folk anthem packed with spilled drinks, stolen kisses, lost bets, and unapologetic joy. Backed by fingerstyle guitar, fiddle, and stomping rhythm, the track blends humor and heart in a singalong that feels right at home on a sticky bar floor at 2AM.

Recorded with gang vocals, shout-along choruses, and a big "Hey, ho, one more round!" energy, it's both a celebration of chaos and a wink at those who’ve lived it.

Featuring call-and-response, echo lines, crowd chants, and a warm acoustic finish, This Rowdy Life captures the mess, mischief, and magic of nights you remember just enough to laugh at in the morning.

Raise your pint, spill your secrets, and join in — no regrets.

Like and repost if you enjoy: folk punk, Irish drinking songs, sea shanties, rowdy pub chants, acoustic tavern storytelling.

[LYRICS]

Woke up in boots that aren’t me size,
A barmaid winks with wicked eyes.
Cards on the floor, the table’s tipped,
Rum’s on me shirt from where I sipped.

Last night I kissed a lass or two,
One laughed and said, “Well fancy you!”
She pulled up close and pinched me hat
Then took me chips, just like that.

Hey, ho, one more round, our chips were lost without a toss
Our rum was spilt, aye! and table flipped.

We called it luck and let it slip.

Raise your glasses, stomp the floor!
Sing it loud, then shout for more!
Spill your secrets, spill your ale
This rowdy life was made to fail!

The bouncer’s shoutin’, I’m long gone—
I darted left, me coat was pawned.
I won some pride and lost me coin—
But chaos, love, and I still join.

Moon still high, me brain’s a fog,
Me pal’s out barkin’ like a dog.
A lass just flashed a wicked grin—
And said, “Let’s see if you can spin.”

I danced atop the sticky bar,
Got dared to kiss a lass named Mar.
She slapped me face, then poured a brew—
Said, “That’s for charmin’ half the crew!”

The floorboards creak, the lights burn low,
We’re tales the barkeep shouldn’t know.
I’ve got no map, but still I steer—
With reckless joy and flat warm beer.

Raise your pint and stomp once more!
Life’s too cracked to keep the score!
Spill your secrets, spill your pain
Then drink and dance and love again!

Who’s got regrets? Not me, not now!
Not me, not now!

We broke the rules and lived somehow!
Lived somehow!

This rowdy life won’t treat you kind
But aye, it’s the finest you will find!

This Rowdy Life (Lyrics Below)

A folk-style tale from the edge of Fumble Creek, where one goose has haunted a man’s steps since boyhood. Told with wit, rhythm, and a touch of dread, this playful narrative unfolds in verses and pub-worthy choruses — weaving a saga of feathers, folklore, and the kind of menace that waddles where it wills. Whether sung with a grin or a shudder, the tale is yours to take flight.

[LYRICS]

"You laugh today, but mark me word
She’ll find you yet, that flappin’ bird."

I hail from down by Fumble Creek,
Where geese don’t honk — they plot and sneak.
Since I was ten, one’s chased me soul,
With eyes that glint and thighs that roll.

She honks like skirts in windy squares,
No feathered beast should draw such stares.

She flaps, she sways, then off she struts
That goose, I swear, will drive me nuts!
She plucks and nips, then off she flew,
I’d half a mind to chase her too.

She honks like skirts in windy squares,
No feathered beast should draw such stares.

Back when I were a wee lad still,
Out where the path bends past the mill
She bit me calf behind the swings,
Then tugged me scarf and flapped her wings.

She honks like skirts in windy squares,
No feathered beast should draw such stares.

She stalks me ’round the bramble gate,
While I were out and running late.
She hissed, she darted, gave a clack,
I dropped me pack and legged the track.

She honks like skirts in windy squares,
No feathered beast should draw such stares.

While I nurse a pint, and me mind’s adrift,
She waddles in loud — all fluff and lift.
She squawks like charm, but truth be this:
I hear nowt more than goose-born hiss.

She flaps, she sways, then off she struts
That goose, I swear, will drive me nuts!
She plucks and nips, then off she flew,
I’d half a mind to chase her too.

She honks like skirts in windy squares,
No feathered beast should draw such stares.

Me aunt’s cat lost near half her fate,
No lane too narrow, no hour too late.
She cornered three behind the crate,
The Vicar cursed and leapt the gate.

That goose? She’s set the hens to cluck,
And had The Vicar shouting “duck!”

I thought I'd rest — a final sleep,
Six feet below, no squawk, no peep.
But just as soil began to drop—
I swear I heard her goose feet plop.

She flaps, she sways, then off she struts—
That goose, I swear, will drive me nuts!
She plucks and nips, then off she flew,
I’d half a mind to chase her too.

So mark me stone, and mind me plot —
’Tis one waddlin’ menace still haunts the lot.

It just might, aye!

Feathered Menace of Fumble Creek

One Way Road

BANANA ALLELUIA, KNOWsutra BURLESQUE is a cheeky little psychedelic waltz EPx5, made of dystopian jazz-folk wisdom, strings plucking, honest sharing, and a few different shades of knowing—from hushed confession to playful rebellion—weaving cello sarcasm, velvety banjo, and quirky philosophy into a swingy truth-telling cabaret… 

Think Bertrand Russell meets Tom Waits backstage at a burlesque circus run by Nina Simone, acoustic mischief that pairs absurdly with clarity, with an open heart and a side of side-eye. :)

⚞ @bananasuta lyrics ⚟

[Intro]
In a capitalist world gone bananas,
What do you know is true, woohoo?
Whatever that may be, oh my,
Don’t you wanna know why?

[Verse 1]
It’s as if unapologetic,
Rhymed with something so kinetic,
Psychedelic magic in the air,
Eeek! Hahaha, woohoo, if you dare!

[Chorus]
Oh ya, what I’m telling ya,
You gotta wonder why,
To learn what keeps us high,
And alleluia, reach the sky!

[Verse 2]
The new winners’ grind,
Acting like bamboozlers, blind,
So-called doers in disguise,
Ducking pricks, oh my, what lies!

[Chorus]
Oh ya, what I’m telling ya,
You gotta wonder why,
To learn what keeps us high,
And alleluia, reach the sky!

[Outro]
Oh please, tell me you know why?
Why, oh why? Oh my, oh my!
You gotta ask WHY … 
in a capitalist world gone bananas 🍌 



[03] BANANA ALLELUIA — KNOWsutra Banjo Waltz Bounce BURLESQUE

[05] BANANA ALLELUIA — KNOWsutra Dystopian Cabaret BURLESQUE

[04] BANANA ALLELUIA — KNOWsutra Cello Banjo Waltz Twang BURLESQUE

[02] BANANA ALLELUIA — KNOWsutra Whisper Velvet Waltz BURLESQUE

Kept it simple - go listen to his new album

YUKON  - AMAPIANO / AFRO (CHEEKY MIX)

Lubrify hits hard from the first bar - a 126 BPM weapon built on thick bass pressure and stripped-back percussion that leaves nothing to waste. The groove is hypnotic but forceful, locking bodies into motion with a primal, lubricated rhythm that pulses straight through the chest. Minimal on the surface, but loaded with intent, this track doesn’t ask for attention - it takes it. Raw, rolling, and engineered for peak-hour damage.



Lubrify

Bad Mom

shake it

… because life on earth is a Psychedelic Cabaret, and “music is the only religion that delivers the goods” (like Frank said). 

To be clear, all I really know is I dunno shit about fck (like Socrates said:)—music and songwriting included. But(t) I feel it, the music, so damn deeep in my soul! I’m just a humble existential fool, a silly banana who likes to play and share, to question and learn. Words are my oldest best friends, hearing myself sing is a freaking miracle (trust me on that lol), and I believe curiosity and #gratitude are the keys to happiness… So voilà, there’s that.

Also, (if you’re curious) BananaSutra is not just a made up BS brand kinda word, it’s actually the name of my DIY Bible—a collection of songs telling true stories of faith, to help me (and perhaps you) make sense of a world gone wild, like bananas gone foul in shallow ignorance and deadly malevolence… Think of it as an agnostic testament of sorts, an audio book of songs with quirky lyrics about things that matter, like the definition of right and wrong, and the meaning of truth, joy, justice, peace, grace, and awe 🕊️

Some call it Artificial Intelligence, but(t) I call Authentic Imagination, Alternative Ideas, Augmented Innuendos, Abstract Illogisms… hopefully, you get the gist? The point being, life is the story we tell ourselves and LYRICS matter—each @bananasutra song has a wondering root and a loving purpose, guided by one of (my) 7 (bananas) sutras: 
- KNOWsutra : is it fair?
- BLOWsutra : is it foul?
- SHOWsutra : is it fun?
- GROWsutra : is it fear?
- FLOWsutra : is it free?
- GLOWsutra : is it fab?
- BOWsutra : is it awe?

Chump from Chicago. 

1/2 of "the A.M"

If you like makin music and would like to colaborate...contact BLUE for MO. Always looking for rap bros and other vocalists. MOBLUEHQ studio is located in the West Loop. 

eMail for booking live performances:

blue@mobluehq.com

Insta & TikTok: MOBLUEHQ

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

Eurotrance DJ based in Warsaw, raised in Belgium. Rafael has been exploring music and experimental sounds since he was a little kid. Surrounded by positive eurodance rhythms and hypnotic hard trance, which reigned on Belgian dancefloors, he quickly discovered a talent for doing good to people through music. Fat kicks, trance-acid interludes and catchy melodies is a universe that gets revealed to your ears and feet on each session. Get your fast glasses, rustling tracksuits and dancing shoes ready!

The techno/tech house project of Vincent Ventura. Music producer since 2004. Techno and House Producer since 2008. High Quality Techno, deep tech and house music. Music with intelligent design, driven by emotion and ethereal vibrations.

Formerly Vinsanity and Vinny Da Vie

beast 

Cheeky bastards 
nortibizzzzz@gmail.com

New tracks tagged #cheeky