тгк: https://t.me/scxrre
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Break your ears

Midix - На луне // opiumcore

Вдохну

Broken Crown is Goblyn’s anthem for the fallen. It’s about losing everything, not just the throne but the self — and still standing tall in the wreckage. Over a moody, distorted beat and heavy 808s, Goblyn spits from the ruins of ego, legacy, and loyalty. This isn’t about reclaiming a kingdom… it’s about what’s left when the crown turns to rust.

The flow is bitter, the bars are personal, and the hook hits like prophecy. It’s pride shattered. Royalty corrupted. And Goblyn dragging the gold through the ashes.

Broken Crown

Every flicker’s a warning — and Goblyn’s losing the fight.

Keep the Lights On is a descent into sleepless madness — the moment where light feels holy and darkness feels alive. Over eerie, pulsing bass and flickering synths, Goblyn confesses his fear of what waits when the room goes black. It’s paranoia turned into poetry: a desperate plea against the silence, against the shadows, against himself.

The vocals swing between whispered prayers and screamed breakdowns, layered in distortion and heavy autotune, like the sound of someone fighting to stay human.
This isn’t a love song.
It’s a survival chant — for anyone afraid of what happens when the lights go out.

Keep the lights on

Night Stalker is Goblyn’s paranoia turned weapon — the sound of insomnia, rage, and fractured reality creeping through empty streets and cracked mirrors. This track opens the album like a shadow kicking in the door. The beat is heavy and stalking, the hook screams from inside your skull, and every line is a confession wrapped in fear.

He’s not running from the dark.
He is the dark.

Night Stalker

Some people sell their soul.
Goblyn read the contract — and signed it twice.

Deal with the Devil is temptation turned into a trap anthem. Over a sinister, bass-heavy beat, Goblyn lays out what it really means to trade your soul — not for money, but for escape, power, and control. It's seductive, dangerous, and full of sharp-toothed confidence. This track isn’t about regret. It’s about owning the price.

The devil ain’t in the details.
He’s in the booth.

Deal with the Devil

Last Blvck Sun is a descent into the void — a brutal, soul-cracked journey through paranoia, rage, trauma, and survival. Each track hits like a jagged memory wrapped in bloodstained gold. From the cursed whispers of Night Stalker to the scorched gospel of Broken Crown, this isn’t just music — it’s a haunted confession in 808s and shadow.

Crafted in the spirit of opiumcore and dark trap, the album explores the fractures of identity, the cost of violence, and the quiet horror of knowing you’re your own worst enemy. Every beat is a step deeper into the storm… and there’s no promise of coming back

Last Blvck Sun

When you stare into the mirror long enough… it starts staring back.

Shattered Reflections is Goblyn’s breakdown in real time — a glitchy, soul-fractured spiral through every version of who he used to be. Each bar feels like a conversation with the mirror: the monster, the victim, the liar, the survivor. The beat is broken, fragmented like glass, with distorted vocals echoing like thoughts that won’t shut up.

This track isn’t about clarity — it’s about confronting the chaos inside your own mind and wondering if anything whole is left to save.

Shattered Reflections

https://soundcloud.com/tha-real-shogun-beats
"Money Ain’t a Object" is Goblyn at his most venomous — a ruthless dismantling of the illusion that wealth means worth. Over a grimy, soul-cutting beat from The Real Shogun, Goblyn spits raw truths straight from the abyss: money can’t buy peace, pride, or the soul he sold off piece by piece.

This is survival rap with a haunted pulse. Gritty bars, dark metaphors, and a voice that drips pain over profit. Whether it’s about street hunger, fake flexin’, or bloodstained ambition — Goblyn don’t rap for clout, he raps for ghosts.

Cold. Bold. Broken. Paid in scars.

Money aint an Object

ТГК: https://t.me/scxrre
лс в шапке тгк

I don’t make music to be famous. I make it so I don’t lose my fuckin’ mind.
Every verse I drop is a piece of me I’m tryin’ to bury — or resurrect. I wear this cracked mask ‘cause I ain’t tryna show the world my face… I’m showin’ it my scars.

I’ve been stalked by my own thoughts since I was a kid — insomnia, rage, regret, voices that don’t shut up. So I put ‘em on beats. I don’t spit for the crowd. I spit for the shadows. My sound? Dark club trap dipped in paranoia, smeared with melody and madness.

Sometimes I sing. Sometimes I scream. Sometimes I don’t say a word — just let the silence talk for me.
Call me Goblyn. Just don’t turn the lights off.

New tracks tagged #opiumcore