Letter to my Side Bitch

🎹 Funky Moog. Street Talk. West Coast Reality.
This one hits different — Got Slipping in the West is a cautionary groove about survival on the coast where the sunshine don’t hide the struggle. Driven by that classic Mini Moog talkbox vibe and a raw G-funk bounce, it tells the truth: if you’re not watching your back, you might not make it back.

🔥 West Coast funk meets gangsta wisdom.
👀 Stay alert, stay moving — don’t get caught slippin’.
🎵 For the ones that know: every bar, every note, is a reminder.

#SnakePuppyBeats #WestCoast #TalkboxFunk #GotSlippingInTheWest

🎵 Don’t slip in the West, boy, keep tha

Bounce To This by FlyingMarlin

Armored Up C2-m1.wav

[Verse 1]
Echoes in the skull, bones rattle like loose change in a pocket full of regrets,
Sweat on the sheets, solo symphony of screams I never let escape the net.
Fingers claw at ghosts, grip slips on the ladder I built from broken bets,
Every step a stutter, tumbling back to the pit where the heart forgets.
Whispers from the walls, "You fumbled again, king of the almost-there throne,"
Mirror cracks a grin, shows the clown crown I wear when I'm alone.
Pills scatter like confetti from a party that ended before it begun,
Chasin' tail lights of dreams that swerve and leave me spun.
Fury bubbles low, a storm in the gut twistin' slow,
Punch the pillow pretendin' it's the face of the me I let go.
Nights bleed into days, a cycle of "why" and "what if" chains,
Solo in the storm, drownin' in the rain of my own dumb pains.

[Chorus]
Alone in the wreckage, fists to the sky but the clouds just laugh,
Fuckin' up the script, every line a glitch, aftermath crash.
Shadows tag along, pullin' strings on this puppet show farce,
Never nail the landing, always the spark that fizzles harsh.

[Verse 2]
Kitchen floor confessions to the fridge hummin' lullabies of loss,
Bottle caps collection, trophies for the nights I crossed my own boss.
Friends fade like smoke signals I misread in the fog of my flaws,
Dial tones mock the calls I chicken out on, clawin' at closed doors.
Double dip in despair, heir to the error, terror in the mirror stare,
Pair of eyes hollow, swallow the sorrow till it chokes the air.
Schemes unravel quick, brick by brick I stack the blame game wall,
Fall through the cracks, tracks of tears map the crawl back to crawl.
Rage ripples out, shout at the void but it spits back silence thick,
Pick at the scabs of "shoulda," blood drips rhythmic, sick tick-tock trick.
Wander the warehouse mind, aisles of "if only" stocked high,
Supply run for sanity always comes up dry.

[Bridge]

[Verse 3]
Ceiling stares back judgmental, paint peels like promises I shred,
Bed a battlefield, bullets of doubt lodged deep in the head.
Solo jam session, guitar strings snap under frantic fret press,
Mess of melodies mournin' the moves I second-guess.
Entendres double-edged, hedge bets on the edge where I ledge-dive,
Alive but barely, parley with the dark that makes me thrive? Nah, jive.
Turkey in the straw, draw the short one every raffle round,
Ground swallows the sound of my stumbles, profound pound.
Ire ignites sporadic, erratic static in the brain pan fry,
Try to tie the noose on the blues but the knot always slips by.
Drift through the driftwood days, waves of "wrong" crash relentless,
Defenseless in the deluge, foolish fuel for the endless.

[Chorus]

[Verse 4]
Drawer full of drafts, half-baked plans that bake in the regret oven,
Shovin' down the doubt but it bubbles up, sudden gut punch lovin'.
Echo chamber solo, polo shirt stained with the sweat of "almost won,"
Done before the dawn, withdrawn from the race I never run.
Fumble fingers on the keys, pleas to the ether go unanswered flat,
Scatterbrained cat chasin' its tail in the trap I set, splat.
Wrath whispers sweet, "Smash it all," but the hammer hand shakes weak,
Leak of fury feeble, retrieval of the pieces? Nah, too bleak.
Rhyme ricochet wild, child of the chill that kills the thrill slow,
Flow folds under the weight of the wait, plate full of "no."
Linger in the limbo lounge, lounge lizard lappin' up the lone,
Bone-tired, wired wrong from the jump, home in the groan.

[Outro Verse]
Final flick of the lighter, ignite the night with a sigh that sighs deep,
Creep through the creep of the keep I can't escape, sleep a thief.
Beef with the reflection, deflection of the truth hits like a brick,
Sick of the script flip, trip on the rip in the seam, quick.
Alone? Yeah, etched in the etch of the etch-a-sketch shake,
Mistake parade marches on, dawn breaks on the fake awake.
Fury fades to flicker, thicker than the mist but mistier still,
Chill pill swallowed whole, hole in the soul that time can't fill.

Alone In The Wreckage

rap verses warp gravity itself — bending bars through wormholes and tachyons.
Every rhyme collapses timelines; every beat ignites the next universe.
This is rap beyond causality — a glitch sermon from the far edge of time.

Loop eternal. Mutate reality.
Quantum never dies — it just rewrites.

#QuantumTemporal #InterdimensionalRap #TimeWarpBeats #ExperimentalHipHop #SciFiRap #FuturisticFlow #ChronoCollapse #LoopMeEternal #SingularitySound #TemporalTrap #CinematicRap #QuantumBars #SpaceRap #MetaphysicalMusic #FractalFlow #ChristopherClow #SunoAI #OtherworldlySound #CyberRap #NewDimensions


Interdimensional

Death Stares Both Ways

let the music speak for itself and never forget me

THIS IS A REMINDER

A cinematic throwback to the young 1980s in Los Angeles, captured through the eyes of the grown folks who lived it. The scene takes place on a cracked schoolyard at sunset, warm golden light stretching across the pavement. A boom box sits beside open vinyl crates, records pulled and scattered like a real after-school session.

A group of adult dancers step with sharp, confident footwork — the early form of the crip walk — moving the same way they did back in the day. Their clothing is pure early-80s West Coast style: fresh sneakers, clean creases, old-school jackets, and that unmistakable LA flavor.

Long shadows slide across the yard, dust drifts in the air, and a soft film-grain look gives the image a classic West Coast feel.
The title “Young 80’s Crip Walk” sits at the top in bold West Coast lettering, tying the scene to the era that shaped the movement.

We use to Crip Walk

[Intro]
Yeah…
Ayo, sometimes you gotta drop what’s holdin’ you back…
Cut loose what’s dead in your life…
Let go of the pressure, the fear, the people drainin’ your spirit…
That’s what Droppin’ a Glizzy really means.
Let’s get it.

[Verse 1]
I been carryin’ too much weight on my shoulders,
Tryna stay strong while my heart gettin’ colder.
People switch up when the world turn bolder,
So I dropped all the fakes like dirt off a boulder.
They was talkin’ loud, but they never showed love,
Always tryna push me down, never lift me above.
So I emptied out my life like I emptied out a clip,
Not bullets, just drama I was tired of holdin’ in my grip.
Yeah I tossed out betrayal, threw away all the lies,
Cut out the ones who put poison in my skies.
I ain’t playin’ with my peace, I ain’t gamblin’ my mind,
I’m droppin’ all the glizzies, every burden left behind.
No more keepin’ deadweight locked in my pocket,
No more lettin’ negativity plug in my socket.
It’s freedom every time that I choose to unlock it,
New life in my chest now, you ain’t gonna stop it.

[Chorus]
I’m droppin’ a glizzy, yeah, I’m droppin’ that pain,
Everything that held me back, I’m flushin’ down the drain.
No more fear in my blood, no more doubt in my brain,
I’m steppin’ into victory, ain’t nothin’ in my lane.
I’m droppin’ a glizzy, lettin’ go of the past,
All the fake ones who folded when I needed ’em last.
Now I’m runnin’ toward the future like I’m built to outlast,
And I ain’t ever lookin’ back, I’m movin’ on fast.

[Verse 2]
This for the nights when my soul was exhausted,
Holdin’ on to people who got me feelin’ haunted.
Tryna fix hearts that never wanted to be mended,
Tryna save bonds that were already ended.
Life taught me one lesson real fast,
You gotta let go if you wanna outlast.
Can’t fly high while you chained to the trash,
So I dropped all the glizzies and made room to blast.
Dropped the lies, the excuses, the ones who turned ghost,
Dropped the people disappearin’ when I needed ’em most.
Dropped the fear holdin’ tight like a hand on my throat,
Now I breathe like a king who reclaimed his own throne.
This ain’t violence, this release, this peace,
This the breakthrough moment where the heavy chains cease.
This the rebirth fire when the demons decrease,
This the moment I rise and the pain finds its peace.

[Chorus]
I’m droppin’ a glizzy, yeah, I’m droppin’ that pain,
Everything that held me back, I’m flushin’ down the drain.
No more fear in my blood, no more doubt in my brain,
I’m steppin’ into victory , ain’t nothin’ in my lane.
I’m droppin’ a glizzy, lettin’ go of the past,
All the fake ones who folded when I needed ’em last.
Now I’m runnin’ toward the future like I’m built to outlast,
And I ain’t ever lookin’ back, I’m movin’ on fast.

[Bridge]
Yeah, I shed my old skin like a snake breakin’ free,
I dropped all the toxins that were livin’ in me.
I ain’t runnin’ from the truth, I’m confrontin’ what I be,
Till the strongest, cleanest version is the only one I see.

[Verse 3]
Now I’m lighter, I’m wiser, I’m sharper in sight,
I ain’t fightin’ old battles that ain’t mine to fight.
I ain’t carryin’ no burdens that keep killin’ my light,
I dropped every glizzy, now I rise like a kite.
This my evolution, my rebirth, my climb,
My break-from-the-darkness and reclaim of my time.
I let go of the ones who were poison disguised,
Now the only ones left are the ones real by my side.
Yeah, I cleaned up my spirit like I sweep out a room,
Let go of the storms makin’ noise in my doom.
Now I shine like a sunrise breakin’ out of the gloom,
’Cause droppin’ all that weight made my life finally bloom.

[Outro]
Yeah…
Sometimes you gotta empty your hands
So you can pick up your destiny.
Ain’t about violence,
It’s about lettin’ go of what held you down.
And when you drop that glizzy…
You rise.

Droppin’ A Glizzy

Relentless

Founding member of the legendary LA Dream Team — creators of classics like “Rockberry Jam” and “The Dream Team Is in the House.”
West Coast pioneer blending boom-bap, G-funk, and modern street soul.
200+ original tracks produced under Snake Puppy Beats, all crafted with that real LA feel.
Authentic. Veteran energy. Straight Watts roots.
Tap in and catch the new wave of West Coast boom-bap in 2025.