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Boomerang Kid Beats is a music producer and artist with a sound that feels nostalgic and futuristic at the same time. Blending heavy 808s, hypnotic melodies, and cinematic textures, his music balances raw energy with emotional depth. Each release is crafted to resonate beyond genres—equally suited for late-night freestyles, headphones on repeat, or a festival stage built for impact.

His music invites listeners into a world that bends time and mood, where every beat is both familiar and otherworldly. More than just instrumentals, they’re soundscapes that carry weight, memory, and soul.

Please don’t,
 judge my state of life now,
another paper plane, 
probably flight 9 thou, 
finally rapping good 
so I don’t plan to quiet down, 
once I’m finally eating good, 
no diets in my house,
 plus this house shall serve the Lord, 
I observe the word,
 it’s my chosen sword,
 I endured with courage, 
throughout the whole course of life, 
of course Ill fight 
to conquer the scourge of night, 
so when the time comes to it, 
I read the Bible 
so when I’m done doing it, 
I’m above foolishness, 
I grew up a sewer fish, 
somebody scream Nemo, 
bout to be drowning in money, 
come and match me on the sea floor, 
bring the heat tho, 
it keep boiling, 
if a man don’t work, 
he don’t eat, 
so keep toiling,
 i know faith in God feels like a coin flip, 
some find joy in it, 
guess I’m still finding out  

Some still finding out

I’m still finding out

The devil had a tighter grip than I first thought, 
we playing tug of war, 
I’m wearing socks,
 I threw my shoes off,
 I got comfortable, then lost,
 I got serious, then lost,
 thoughts were a ticking time bomb 
in my mailbox, 
left me shell shocked 
like got impaled by a steel rod, 
left me cell blocked
 in mental hell
 praying for bail bonds. 
Psalm 88 was sounding lot like me, 
Ecclesiastes 3,
 it must be time for me to weep, 
and so I’d pick another beat, 
and let the tears create a sea, 
and let the fears create a bed 
where God can plant and I can reap, 
but I must plant and water,  
protect thru each advance, 
of demonic spirits 
sent to slaughter and conquer, 
mama said 
pray then prosper 
then pray, and prosper,  
spending tithes and offerings, 
to smoke out imposters,
 some people only showing love 
to show out in public, 
some people love doing things 
they say is disgusting, 
everybody just tryna function, 
nobody wanna die dumb,
 even if they don’t mind dying young, 
when looking for the bright side 
feel like tryna find love, 
following the golden rule, 
still treated like a flying bug, 
Pointed out,
 swatted down,  
kicked out the house,
 left for dead by the people 
we was worried bout, 
people getting saved and slaughtered 
by the word of mouth,
 people acting like
 they never heard about Jesus 
once it’s working out, 
my sweatshirt baggy 
but I’ve been working out, 
my eyelids heavy, 
driving I’m swerving doubt,
 barely dodging the demons 
swinging in front of me, 
running towards my future 
praying Jesus never runs from me, 
Guess I’m still finding out,

Others still finding out

Im still finding out
while,
 I roll another leaf, 
smoke it like, 
I’m preserving meat,
 enough to feed a whole country,
 I want to reach the masses, 
with my words I’ll make the devil bend backwards,
 plus help release his captives,
I still got scars from bondage,
My heart been marred and tarnished,
 I still got habits, 
the baddest, 
I still feel dark and hardened,
 sometimes, 
other times, 
I’m more like sunshine,
 but sunshine means there’s shade 
somewhere in someway, 
and some days, 
feel like I need Sunday, 
for seven days, 
some days I’d rather blaze, 
I know praying is a better way to relax, 
I know the feels will relapse, 
just like the hills won’t be flat, 
just because I asked, 
But,
Closed mouths don’t get fed,
Closed hearts don’t get loved,
Closed minds don’t get taught,
And closed eyes can’t look up
And closed arms won’t get hugs,
Porcupine is my body language,
Borderline schizophrenic 
All my raps just conversations 
All my dreams feel like the Matrix,
All my friends feel like replacements,
All my days still contemplating
How to die, how to make it
How to live, how to fake it,
How to hope without the need to smoke,
Hope to cope without the need to hope, 
how to grow without the need to cope 

How to love without the need to trust? 

How to live without the need to love? 

How to die without the need to live?

How to cry without the neeeeeeddd of feeling like I wanna die.
 I guess I’m still finding out 



This was written to a beat called “thinkin bout u” by secret stash

16 year old rapper from the 716
Joeyjopp07 on instagram

https://youtube.com/@JChxppa?si=zefFdwKOdNb9jg3S

🇵🇷🇨🇺🇯🇲
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Orlando Morales as known as "Stats MG" (MoneyGang) Is an Artist From Arapahoe, Wyoming. Makes R&B, Hip Hop, G-Funk,West Coast,Melodic,Vibed Out Music. Directs His Own Music Videos, Produces His Own Music And Writes His Own Music.
For Collaberations Email Me @ moralesorlando1284@gmail.com 
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