S T U P

petit boze (ft biffty)

Stup Forever

Les gens qui s’énervent

Stup Virus

The Antidote

Crou Anthem

she walked in laughing, bright and bent
with a cherry-stain grin and a sugar-snap scent
too much brooding for a Friday face
she looked like someone who’d court disgrace
twirled her straw with a sideways glance
like she’d bet on charm but forgot the dance
I blinked once, she laughed, then stalled
tripped her step like the floor might fall

she bent too close with a flash of stake
I leaned in quiet, I don’t retake

I’m the second sip, not loud but certain
hits mid-smile like a shifting curtain
I’m the beat you miss when the bass cuts dry
the itch you feel with no reason why
you toast too quick, I stay and drift
you brag in bold, I breathe in shift
you spark the fire, I steal the smoke
you taste the edge, then start to choke

she came back swaying like her heels confessed
vanishing fast when the game got pressed
I smiled slow, let the silence speak
she stirred her glass like it held technique
crossed her legs with a cue too clean
knocked my table just to break the scene
watched her sip, all gloss and grin
her voice slid loose from the shape it’s in

called herself chaos in a velvet coat
but I don’t chase what I already wrote

I’m the second sip, not wild but wicked
your favorite line when the room gets scripted
I’m the hum in the dark when the crowd gets thin
the echo you trace when the lights grow dim
you toss your glance, I lift the air
you chase the thrill, I’m already there
you write the spark, I draw the flame
you hold the match, I name the game

she showed up late with her pulse all wound
said she passed by, just walking around
dropped her coat like it meant to stay
but her laugh was a knot and it pulled too tight
traced my cup like it knew the deal
asked if I ever feel what I try to conceal
I didn’t move, just raised one brow
and she bit her lip like a lost cash cow

she swore I don’t crack, not a single thread
I don’t outrun the storm, I’m the eye instead
I’m not the flame, I’m the heat that climbs
what you hold too close rewrites your lines

said I’d miss her, it slipped like glass
but I’d already watched that moment pass

I’m the second sip, not love, just lesson
a rhythm sharp in a blurred confession
I’m the note you hum when you can’t sit still
the phantom grin when you’ve lost your will
you point the blame, I trace the plot
you want the high, I know what you’re not
you called it spark, I called it cue
I closed the scene, then walked it through

you’ll dance with louder, simpler names
but I’m the sound that still reclaims

Second Sip

“IF I WAS YOUR PRODUCER VOL. 2” is the next chapter in the WDMN MEDIA experiment — a collection of raw, genre-bending tracks built to spark inspiration and flip expectations. ThinkTimm once again blurs the lines between funk, hip-hop, R&B, and electronic, weaving together bass-heavy grooves, soulful textures, and left-field production choices that feel both retro and futuristic.

This volume pushes deeper into lo-fi meets funk, alt-R&B atmospheres, and cinematic beat storytelling, with each track built as if it were made for another artist, another world — but stamped with that unmistakable WDMNation sound. It’s part producer showcase, part vibe tape, part manifesto for independent creators who refuse to fit in a box.

Whether you’re here for the grooves, the textures, or the imagination behind it, VOL. 2 reminds you: music isn’t just made — it’s reimagined.

🔥 Standouts: “Lovely Mesmerizing Beautiful Hypnotizing,” “Re Up Ur Fresh,” “Polka Dot,” “My Nation”
🎚️ Produced by: ThinkTimm | WDMNation MEDIA
🌐 More: www.thinktimm.com


Je fume pu d'shit

Stupeflip

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Stéphane Rivière

roZman

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