This album is dedicated to my friends who plays with me in COD WZ:

Lyrics:


Yeah...
(You thought he was dead?)
(Think again, fool.)
FatButtReaper back in the fight...

Down to the Gulag, chains on his fists,
Smoke in his lungs, blood on his lips.
Bell rings once — that's all he needs,
FatButtReaper’s back, unleashin' beasts.

No mercy, no peace, just cold technique,
Stone-cold moves, death on a streak.
They send him to hell, he sends 'em a postcard,
"Still breathin', motherfucker, still comin' hard."

Steel nerves, razor eyes, no fear in the pit,
He plays Russian roulette... and never gets hit.
Shadows watch but they never can bind him,
'Cause legends don't fall — they just keep risin'.

Back from the dead,
with a fist full of lead.
Back from the flames,
FatButtReaper's your name.
He don't fold,
he don't break —
From Gulag gates,
he makes 'em quake.

Clock's tickin', fists flickin’,
Enemies slippin', dreams rippin'.
One shot, one swing, it's a done thing,
FatButtReaper’s lootin' while the choppers sing.

Bitch, he dodges like smoke,
Hits like a storm stroke,
Leaves 'em floatin' like ghosts,
While he’s grabbin' the gold.

Concrete floor? — He owns that shit.
Razor wire? — He flosses with it.
Think you got a shot? — Homie, think twice,
Reaper's comin' back harder... rollin’ loaded dice.

Back from the dead,
with a fist full of lead.
Back from the flames,
FatButtReaper's your name.
He don't fold,
he don't break —
From Gulag gates,
he makes 'em quake.

("Enemy dead... FatButtReaper's back... again...")
(Hahaha)
Gulag king... ain't no cage can hold him.

FatButtReaper's back

Found me on Youtube, Deezer, Amazon Music, Apple Music, Spotify, Facebook and X in https://linktr.ee/TheAbiffSolaris

In case you're wondering: I composed all the music myself. The melody came from my own voice, and I guided the AI to arrange instruments based on it. My goal is collaboration — to inspire real singers and composers to take it further. That’s what creation is truly about. I  see AI as a tool — not a replacement, but an extension of human creativity.

The message matters, the medium too. Truth, regardless of how it's expressed, always finds its way. So instead of complaining, evolve. Adapt. The future doesn’t wait.