Cannibal Ox - Stress Rap

Dark, atmospheric trap track with vivid street imagery and haunting "blood orange" metaphors that create an immersive nighttime vibe.

Blood Orange

Success factor
I keep a smile, in no laughing matters
Half you boys is jokes, cant keep it solid, for an even platter
Something like the IRA the way we bomb this shit
Up the RApping boy L, who transmits it, shit

I whip cleaner, in this fresh demenour
304s knockin for my side, the grass is always greener
Bitches say they want this, then want that, they dont know right
Head to toe in frost, i know a couple serving snow white
For the life, im well dressed, never catch me tight
Sippin bordeaux wine, on a royal night
Serve it up on silver platters, give it as it is
For 06, the god deliver, living ravenous

Got this ice and cream, might give yo ass a brainfreeze
Dressed all black beatles, swayin leaves, this green haze clean
I ain no nepobaby, i built strong for this rapping shit
Take what resonates and strive on with no lacking tips
Im flippin all these macaranas, like im salsa dancing
4 cornered chain, i got it on, this that malta flag in
Vic mackey i got shields around my temple, ain no dirty cop
These dirty bitches wanna bell me for a dirty spot
GTA, 5 stars we goin trevor crazy
Trailer parks and smoking kush, bungalow hazy
Caught wind of fake fucks in my holy cricle
Had to cut em off and throw em in the blunt inferno
After the herbal, got my cup and now im pourin purple
Im like a turtle, movin slow, got me out the shell
You say you mean well, time a tell if you a stick like gel
Got margel, and DG on my apparéle
In the clouds, mental prison breathing air cells
You barbare, im village raidin for a sac to sell
And you can smell it in the air, like a bombshell
Like kentrell, im youngboy, free my dawg in hell

Success factor
I keep a smile, in no laughing matters
Half you boys is jokes, cant keep it solid, for an even platter
Something like the IRA the way we bomb this shit
Up the RApping boy L, who transmits it
Silver platter serving up, cook it good and clean


SILVER PLATTER SURFER (Prod. Bailey Daniel)

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A HEAD OF MY TIME

True To My Soul

Buckle Up by smokethatdank

rare (ft. armada reckless)

A bit of an older track that I wanted to polish up and send out while I work on some Grade A for yall 🔥 Mixed by me and if you can help me find who made the beat it would be a big help, I'm tryna shout them out!

Lyrics:

I move to ballroom beats like Bruce Wayne
bitch even Peter Parker couldn’t handle this venom
spark a cigar just like a vilinous menace
I visit Venice just to reminisce on fallen partners

Paradiso man I’ll see you in heaven
why’d they have to go and take Benson
…

you wanted action come and get it
I do this for my brothers and sisters who know I kill it
may as well hang sheep for a lamb
man we lampin my whole camp is causing damage

now we’re back to reminiscin
we’re hoppin over picket fences
snagging dubs while bums were throwing cinder blocks and bricks
all up at the whip and now you ain’t here to see that shit

I put it all in my pocket then I keep it
I’m on a mission like a missle out heat seekin 
don’t dust my sneakers or I’m meat cleavin
don’t test my patience or I’m street sweepin

I merch it all man I’m Minnesota’s finest
you thought it was cold but now I’m changing up the climate
fuck a contract you could never get me signing
I’m an independent artist, CEO - this shit grimy

I hang low like you could never even find me
I’m a poet and you Edgar Allen know it
I could never blow it even if I lost my motive
my flows immaculate I’m packin hits like I was towing

pothole weaving when I dip out, we’re in a drought
the sun ain’t seeping through these thick clouds, they surround
your octaves lost inside this thick crowd
your word ain’t emergin cause I just cut you dead-off with my pistol

mothafucker get down, got to much on my plate 
and fuck skippin state lines I bunnyhop to UK
I’m always rushin on the beat but gotta pray for Ukraine
I’m always clutching on my piece but I still pray for AKs

I got a thousand problems but bitch this music ain’t one 
they been saying I’m a legend since 2001
they been saying I’m dope as hell and I ain’t even begun 
they ain’t saying you anything cause you ain’t doing nothin!

…

I put it all in my pocket then I keep it
I’m on a mission like a missle out heat seekin 
don’t dust my sneakers or I’m meat cleavin
don’t test my patience or I’m street sweepin

I merch it all man I’m Minnesota’s finest
you thought it was cold but now I’m changing up the climate
fuck a contract you could never get me signing
I’m an independent artist, CEO - this shit grimy

…

Sheep for a Lamb

The Comet! He is on his way,
And singing as he flies;
The whizzing planets shrink before
The spectre of the skies;
Ah! well may regal orbs burn blue,
And satellites turn pale,
Ten million cubic miles of head,
Ten billion leagues of tail!

She woke up speakin’ Saturn, hair all tangled in starlight,
Launched socks from the bunkbed like comets in a bar fight.
barely swake, still rubbin’ my eye —
She’s already plot-twistin’ breakfast into why.

“Don’t pack carrots,” she warns, “they go off near Mars,”
And I’m squintin’ like, what? in the glow of her bars.
Behind this door a lava floor, moon base station, 
Tiny cheese triangles, tasty treat,
So the great moon slug we can defeat.

coat's a cloak of planetary shields,
gloves of Anti-matter she swiped from the fields.
The fields near the surface of the sun,
Aye, it's hot but real fun.
box is shut, weightless weigh,
“No worries, — I’m just off to create.”

This or that, that and this

Do you know what I really wish?

What's that princess, cotton candy milkshake?

Wish these days could last forevah

She’s back home later, hair full of dust,
Backpack swingin’, eyes full of trust.
“Guess what?” she says, breathin’ fast,
“We unlocked a portal in science class.”

“Miss thinks it’s maths but nah, it’s code —
We’re buildin’ wormholes by the storage road.
got star maps on his lunch tray,
got moon shoes, mysteriouslykeeps driftin’ away.”

the class hamster’s an alien spy,
Eats black holes and squeaks out why.
laugh — can’t help it — love this a lot
She just grins, that sweet spot.

biscuit exchange and neutron stars
Left my milk to sour in a carton on Mars.
Rocket silence in wild defiance.
Least gravity pulls us afar,
I'm with you little star.

Sour Saturn, apple slice,
Spacesuit tech a clever disguise.
Juice box fuel for the hyperspace swing,
It's full of stars full or everything.

Threading through the looking glass,
Ice cream stains and lots of sass.
You see it yeah, that Boötes void.
Left in the sky, where in once held joy.

speaks in spirals, golden fate,
Twisted tales, stayed up late.
Galaxies and a burnout choir.
Our constellations above our campfire.

She sees wonder where I see mess,
Finds logic in chaos, calm in stress.
She made a torch out of a paper roll,
“This is for searchin’ a worried soul.”

I asked where she found all this stuff,
Weirdly wonderful soft and rough.
“Maybe I just kept it from way back when.”
Refined through days in the playpen.
One thing I can't deny,
Aye, she sees me this one.
Every time I come by.

Maybe she don’t dream it — maybe she recalls,
battles fought ‘cross coat-hook halls.
With peanut butter stars and time-fold wings,
she’s got the universe in everyday things.

Once there was a little dream
That mounted to the sky;
It rode upon a water beam
And climbed the star way high.

symbols (prod. WiLLE)

do$ha

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