Name: Wide Open Dreams by Dr. Foss
Duration: 2 min 44 s
Description: Lo-fi confessional from Dr. Foss. Wide Open Dreams is about dropping the excuses, pressing record, and creating with what you’ve got. The gear was never the issue. Fear was.

Mugshot (Rockstar)

Still Drink For You

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxljWc2d3ec
The Ocean doesn’t cry like we do.  
But it does bleed — in silence, in plastic, in oil.

This is a glitch-rap manifesto for the blue planet.  
Spoken like a wave, punched like a truth.

Written and performed by Dr. Foss  
🌊 For every drop that remembers.  
🧠 For every voice that won't throw that knot in the sea.

The Ocean

Wrong

Lo-fi confessional from Dr. Foss. Wide Open Dreams is about dropping the excuses, pressing record, and creating with what you’ve got. The gear was never the issue. Fear was.

Wide Open Dreams

Kaj - Covered By (Dona $ Shun)

📀 Straight Out the Boombox – Album Bio

Straight Out the Boombox is the sound of concrete dreams and midnight hustles — a full-throttle ride through alley smoke, rooftop echoes, and the pulse of the block. Phantom Bloc delivers fifteen tracks of heavy-hitting street poetry, basslines that shake brick walls, and hooks steeped in West Coast grit and East Coast swagger.

From the spectral hustle of "Ghost Cash" and the asphalt grit of "Lines in the Concrete", to the engine-revving swagger of "Boom-Rider" and the wild block-party chaos of "Wopbabalubop", every song is a scene straight out of the cipher.
"Dedicated", "Brooklyn Kings", and "Dust to Dollars" tip the cap to the grind and to the legends — with certain cuts paying homage to the smoke-soaked swagger of Cypress Hill, the soul-fused grit of Everlast, and the funked-up bounce of Funkdoobiest.

The tension cuts deep with "Blood Money" and "La Sangre No Miente", before the crew resurrects the raw in "Back From the Casket". Nova Rex brings fire to "Turn the Night Gold" and drapes the VIP ropes in "Velvet Rope Royalty". "Coast Glide" smooths the ride like golden-hour sun on chrome, before the grand finale — "Ibracadabra!", a swagger-drenched tribute to the king of confidence himself, Zlatan Ibrahimović.

It’s more than an album — it’s a street sermon, a love letter to hip-hop’s fearless innovators, and a reminder that some legends never die… they just keep blasting from the boombox.

Ghost Cash

My Love

[Verse 1]  
Echoes claw the skull's backdoor, fingers slick with yesterday's rot  
Chasin' ghosts that grin like exes, teeth filed sharp on forgotten plots  
Mind's a sewer rat sprint, dodgin' floods of what-ifs gone sour  
Pills rattle like loose change in a coffin, buyin' hours by the hour  
Fists pound the mirror till it spits blood confessions, "You ain't king"  
Crown's a noose of neon lies, swingin' low where the weak hearts cling  
Demons DJ the static, scratchin' tracks of "almost was" on repeat  
Feet drag through tar-pit thoughts, sinkin' slow, no lifeline, no beat  
Rage bubbles up like bad acid, burnin' bridges to bone-dry ash  
Last laugh's a wheeze from the void, echoin' "crash, you fool, crash"  

[Chorus]  
Shadows slither, swallow whole, no mercy in the swallow's throat  
Chasin' tails in black-hole basements, where the light forgot to show  
Yell till lungs cave, "Come get me!"—they just laugh and let you choke  
Mind's meat grinder, churnin' dreams to dust, one hopeless poke  
Shadows, shadows, pull me under, drown the fire in your ink  
Chasin', bleedin', never winnin', just the brink and bitter brink  
Echo back my broken howls, make the crowd scream it thin  
Shadows win, shadows win, let the spiral spin us in  

[Verse 2]  
Woke up tastin' rust and regret, tongue thick with unsaid goodbyes  
Eyes like cracked phone screens, scrollin' scrolls of alibis that die  
Friends fade to pixels, ghosts in group chats, typin' "we good?" lies  
Bottle's bottom mocks the promise, "One more swig, then you fly"  
But wings are wet rags, clipped by doubts that nest in ribcage cracks  
Nights stack like unpaid bills, interest pilin' panic attacks  
Whispers from the wallpaper peel, "Quit pretendin', you're the hack"  
Laughter's a luxury tax, paid in tears that streak the track  
Fury's a flat tire on the freeway, spinnin' wild, no traction left  
Just skid marks of "shoulda" leadin' to the cliff where hope went deaf  

[Chorus]  

[Verse 3]  
Threads of sanity fray like cheap socks, trippin' over toe-stub truths  
Youth's a scam artist, sold me futures wrapped in fool's proof  
Now I'm pawnin' memories for matches, lightin' fuses to the fuse  
Boom—scattered shards of "me" rain down, nothin' left but the blues  
Rivals in my head hall, circlin' like vultures on a vibe  
Pickin' clean the carcass of confidence, leavin' gristle to survive  
Scream at ceilings stained with smoke rings from cigars of "why try?"  
They stare back blank, judgin' silent, "Boy, you're just another die"  
Twist the knife of nostalgia slow, carve out chunks of what burned bright  
Left with embers that mock the hunger, starvin' fierce in endless night  

[Bridge]  
Breathe it in, the rot-rose scent, petals wiltin' on the vine  
One step from the edge, toes curl 'round nothin', spine's a crooked line  
What if the chase ends empty? Just a loop of "you again"  
Fists unclench, drop the fight—let the dark twins pull you in  
But nah, spark flares wild, veins pump venom, "Not yet, you pricks!"  
Rage rebirth, a glitch in the gloom, teeth bared for the fix  
Shadows scatter for a sec, then regroup, thicker, meaner twist  
Cycle spins eternal, suck the soul dry with a kiss  

[Verse 4]  
Barrel down the brain-storm alley, thunder thoughts crack like whips  
Lips spit lightning bolts of spite, zappin' doubts to smoky strips  
Exes haunt the rearview, smirks say "Told ya, kid, you slipped"  
Grip the wheel white-knuckled, swervin' 'round the pit they dug quick  
Pockets full of IOUs from gods who ghosted on the deal  
Heal? That's a punchline for the privileged, feel the raw, unpeel  
Walls close in like bad trips, graffiti screams your failures loud  
Crowd it out with curses chained, a torrent tearin' through the cloud  
Endgame's a whisper: "Fold now, save the ache"—but fuck that plea  
I'll chase these bastards to the marrow, burn the whole damn tree

Shadows Win

to die 4 (Ft. Celine Love)

⚠️ ARTIST NOTICE — NO SCAM ZONE ⚠️
I don’t reply to fake promoters, “marketing teams,” or SEO hustlers.
If you message me about “guaranteed plays,” “Google ranking,” or “music growth,” you’re out.
Common red flags:
– Gmail or Outlook addresses pretending to be agencies.
– Shortened links (bit.ly, tinyurl, shorturl).
– “Buyers” instead of real artists.
– “Let me prove my authenticity” with random phone numbers.
– Promises of instant fame, “organic traffic,” or “top playlists.”

Real professionals have:
✅ A registered company and domain
✅ A traceable track record
✅ Clear contracts and results

This is a creative zone — not a scam farm.
Respect music. Respect honesty.
— Dr. Foss  And yeah - i use Ai, but as an instrument, not as my master.

Wide Open Dreams

Dr. Foss

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