Name: The Russian's Are Coming by ThrowawayGod
Duration: 32 min 5 s
Description: I teared up for some reason on the San Holo... tf.

Prod by longdead

Lyrics


Flippin smoking on digits life is like a vision
Back wood filled to the brim that’s my mission
Cut it on my own stay hittin with precision 
Money king of evil I been holding my religion

Sinning on the reg that’s my fucking composition
Talking all that bullshit never had no competition
Life stay hard never had what I envisioned 
Keep it up put you on the television 

Dead lights looking down at the worms
Flipping on a switch and it all starts to burn
I could let it go and it go this the last time I learn
Killed myself only to return.

Is it fun all you done with yo days?
Used to be me now I’m stuck in my ways
Couple degrees on my wall still get paid
Bust my ass stuck to shit that I made

Lookin at my gifts and it just ain’t enough
Lookin at the others can’t talk yea it’s tough
Do yo shit I’ll always pick you up
Always wanted power it was never bout the stuff

Minuscule dream thriving in the singular
LongDead team all alone that’s my signature
7.62 it move like sprinkler
All I can do close my eyes still think of her

Please don’t leave I been tryinna get better
No it’s hard I’m begging you my tether
No it cloudy but it change like the weather
One more time I’m begging no pressure

Been a dead guy been breaking my back
Ima do something you can out me on a plaque
Cold brass in a pack no slack in my mac
One more time yea bih run it back

been a grave digger I been a blood letter
been dope sick laid up bed wetter
Smokin indo dead eyes black sweater
Pour out the window let go whatever

When I close my eyes I only see my reflection 
Pitch black life botted likes in my mentions
I been screaming to the sky across dimensions
Don’t want attention this a path for ascension

Dead lights looking down at the worms
Flipping on a switch and it all starts to burn
I could let it go and it go this the last time I learn
Killed myself only to return.

Is it fun all you done with yo days?
Used to be me now I’m stuck in my ways
Couple degrees on my wall still get paid
Bust my ass stuck to shit that I made

DeadLights

Romance

A slow immersion into the memory of water. Soft pulses echo like distant sonar beneath warm, swelling drones. Tidal textures rise and recede—salt, breath, electricity. The sound of being held by something ancient, intelligent, and fluid.

The Russian's Are Coming

ThrowawayGod

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Happy Pigeon

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