No time to talk

Meet the producer who once got into a heated beatboxing battle with a confused FedEx driver who turned out to be three raccoons in a trenchcoat (they won, but only on a technicality). Legend has it that this absolute menace learned music production from a wise old vending machine that exclusively spoke in early 2000s pop lyrics and would only dispense wisdom if you fed it expired fruit snacks. The machine now works as a part-time lifecoach for squirrels with commitment issues. Producing beats from a studio that might actually be a portal to another dimension (still waiting on the inspection results, but the ghost that lives in the microwave swears it's legit). Sometimes the beats make objects float, but only on Tuesdays, and only if Mercury is in retrograde while wearing Crocs.

No time to talk

Uberan Mino