Higher

Searching.WAV

I have a disease...quite an affliction!!!

Cognitive DISSonance (Sour OG Vs Cali Kush)

SamiVibes

The confession

How U Like Me Now

Is life as we know it really what it should be?

Calico Dreams

Me & GOD

High Pursuit

written by clinton topps and titus topps.
produced by clinton topps

Im The Man

Composed, performed, programmed & produced by Wavesword "Marsy" Mars

Lyrics reproduced by the artist:

She asked “do [I] typically use my guitar
To complete seductions?”; I said “Not this time.
I don’t tend to like playing two loves off 
Against one another, except in rhyme."
A tease by eye and ear parades,
Delights in tension, benignly aggravates,
That we rally so well, the rally can’t fail,
The only kind of tennis that plays in a Night Tale.
So long and gorgeous that mane, if a lady’s rivery
Locks even be fain called a mane; and yet, see all those
Washerwomen of thought, who are borne over with filthy
Linen, washing that linen in such a beautiful stream.
Yeah, I always talk like this, for what worth is living
Without some handicap for disciplining?
I rhyme like this, regale like this, dine
Electresses’ love-starved mind like this.
And I let you wind like this, climb like this,
No other time am I so singular of mind like this.
I forget the tenderness pricking our cynical touch;
That like a lyric this sweet tryst will come mean both
More and less than it seems, more than you think, less than it is;
And that we’re both pursed with wordslinger’s tricks to make it so writ.
But tonight, the entendres; and we free see free as being  
Free to act like damn animals, albeit ones with
A well-developed nose for the trophy; DJ Sniffter,
Sniff your tear now and play a little boshack for the girls.

Will free her
What frees her will free me;
Will free me and free her

Every time I think that it would be 
Too vulgar and too arrogant to imagine 
Someone like you, touch proves you true 
Once again; but,

In love ain’t it true that you took your cue
From Knightsbridge in the summertime? More
Resplendent in what’s gold and fine than Timbuktu, but
Revealing nothing of how your goings come;
Among these noble fridges, club-floor-picked radishes, 
These maniches of blockhead and boulder you choose,
Am I primary stakeholder? That’s to say, am I of pride of place
In the folio in which such tales, cut and un-, are told?
We metropols are all given passports of the free,
Bought with promise of our contentment,
With only all the riches of dispassion, ignorance, intemperance
If you are happy that freedom hold no more value than this,
Then, yes, go free, free forth and spend.
Seems to me you’re slave to your every appetite, instinct
And fear; and that seems to me not freedom, not happiness,
But why would you, slave, listen to such words uttered
From one who looks such a slave to you? If not slave to a slave?
Perhaps if I ever win acclaim on these works
You will sort through their folds for your song; given the love
That was withheld, it would simply be a song that decries
That its writer has nothing with which, or about, to write.
But I will pen something of the culture that placed us so,
That redefined love as the art of the using and the used,
That pleasured ‘til happiness by pleasure’s abused,
And call it “A Boshack for the girl”.

Every time I think I'm at my wits end with you 
My wit extends just enough that a week later 
I find myself at its ends again

How U Like Me Now

Clinton Topps aka Mr. FRESH