Memory Crime" is a three-act trilogy navigating the wreckage of a digital-age heartbreak. Yxng Anxty's EP journeys from the raw, explosive anger of initial betrayal to the lo-fi, atmospheric regret of lingering memories. It culminates in the conceptual despair of being erased entirely, capturing the existential panic of a relationship not just ending, but being deleted as if it never existed—a true 'memory crime'.

GALLIPOLI VIEWS

WhatIKnow

WIFE HOES (SOMEBODY ELSE SHANICE MIX)

[Hook]
Fuck this pulse still beating in my chest
Fuck this air I’m forced to ingest
Fuck this clock that won’t let me rest
I’m screaming fuck this till nothing is left

[Verse 1]
I count the cracks in the ceiling like rosary beads
Each fracture a memory I never agreed
To keep, to hold, to swallow with teeth
Grinding glass into dust that I breathe
My shadow got heavier than lead in my veins
It drags concrete boots through the puddles of shame
I smile for the camera, perfect decay
White teeth hiding tongues that forgot how to pray

[Pre-Hook]
Somebody turn the volume down on existing
I’m tired of the static, tired of resisting

[Hook]
Fuck this pulse still beating in my chest
Fuck this air I’m forced to ingest
Fuck this clock that won’t let me rest
I’m screaming fuck this till nothing is left

[Verse 2]
I sold my future for a handful of nights
That tasted like copper and fluorescent lights
Now the mirror shows a debtor with hollowed out eyes
Collecting interest on every goodbye
My heartbeat’s a landlord evicting my soul
Late fees in blood, final notice in full
I tried to ghost myself but the lease won’t dissolve
Still stuck paying rent on a body I loathe

[Bridge]
I don’t want peace
I want the absence of war inside my skull
I don’t want hope
I want the silence after the fall

[Hook]
Fuck this pulse still beating in my chest
Fuck this air I’m forced to ingest
Fuck this clock that won’t let me rest
I’m screaming fuck this till nothing is left

[Verse 3]
I swallowed the sun just to burn from within
Now every exhale is a funeral hymn
My ribcage a cage for a bird made of sin
Wings clipped by choices I can’t un-begin
I tattooed escape plans across both my arms
But the ink bled out with the self-inflicted harm
Now the map is ruined, directions dissolved
Still walking in circles that never evolve

[Outro Hook]
Fuck this pulse… fuck this breath…
Fuck this clock… fuck this death
That won’t come collect what it’s owed
I’m screaming fuck this
Till the scream corrodes
[Final whisper, dry]
Fuck this.

Fuck This

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[Verse]

City breathes poison, coughing on the fumes,

Neon signs flicker, cutting through the gloom.

Rats on the pavement, shuffle like a tune,

Echoes in the alley, shadows hold a tomb.



Heart heavy, dragging like a broken chain,

Eyes scan the skyline, soaked with acid rain.

Time’s a crooked dealer, hands stained with pain,

Every tick a dagger, carving through the vein.



[Chorus]

Concrete reverie, streets never sleep,

Secrets in the cracks, buried six feet deep.

Dreams crumble slow, dust in the heap,

Concrete reverie, promises don’t keep.



[Verse 2]

Cigarette whispers curling in the air,

Hustlers in the doorway, selling out despair.

The devil’s got a booth, take a number, say a prayer,

Angels in the rearview, ain't nobody care.



Dollar bills folded, stained with sweat,

Playing Russian roulette with unpaid debts.

Hope's a mirage, sun that never sets,

Chasing ghosts of freedom, but it ain’t come yet.



[Bridge]

Knuckles on the brick wall, blood leaves a mark,

Chasing a spark in a world so dark.

Life’s a tightrope, every step a lark,

Fall too far, you’re food for the shark.

Concrete Reverie

Male Vocals, Rap, Raw, Powerful, Smooth, Beats, Rhythmic, Swing, Sad, Dance Graduate, Orchestral, No Autot Unavoidable, Uplifting

courtroom scenes

“Glamping” by AMS is a flashy trap anthem mixing luxury bravado with street confidence. Repetitive hooks celebrate glamour, money, and nightlife elevation, while verses blend seduction, self-mythology, travel, and dominance. References to fashion, power, intellect, and coding contrast raw desire with control. The mood is bold, hedonistic, and cinematic, projecting success, motion, and swagger over booming beats built for clubs, late drives, neon nights, and confidence.

Glamping

Lyrics & Arrangements By RegiB
Sounds & Resources By #SUNO 
Graphics By RegiB

NO DISCRETION

Going with Martín for a bit…2025 ain’t up yet 


send beats: thephonknation@gmail.com
Sacramento, CA.

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Martín

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