the music i listen to in my past time. for full effect listen to this playlist on shuffle

old playlist

https://1cloudboys.bandcamp.com/album/burnout

wwaavvyy

JOHNNY TSUNAMI

aloe vera pack

hang 10

ps2 (john mayer)

prod. @corybear
mixed by @ibr

shout out stream squad

I think in I’m in love
but I’ve been feeling otherwise
these flutters in my stomach aren’t butterflies but cutting knives 
and not the butter kind, and if you listen close when she begins to speak, you’ll hear a couple hundred sighs and the collective shut of eyes, letters linger on her lips like lullabies, I think I’ve  drowned a couple times inside her opal-colored eyes, she could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives, a perfect 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs, X catch her wearing loose pajamas on a sunday and she’d overshadow any supermodel on a runway, when she wakes up in the morning up she smells like vanilla essence and the bittersweet recollections of your adolescence, summer camp and piano lessons and presents you got on birthdays, orange creamsicles and double plays on first base, and walk past her in the halls and if your shoulders feel the slightest brush then you might melt to liquid gold, the lightest kind of midas touch, I’ve seen the way she drinks espresso during classes and reshapes a paper cu p into an emerald-covered chalice, sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances to me through her giorgio armani frames, she’s nearly perfect in 
almost 
every
way 









. 



.


.
but she’s got shit taste in movies, ask her for her favorite titles and she always likes to say she’s down to go see anything by shyamalan or michael bay, and also, she’s a psycho in the kitchen, 
it’s a travesty, what kind of fucking monster cooks their pasta in the microwave? 
and she does this thing where she corrects your grammar if it’s wrong and clicks her tongue and winks and shoots a playful finger gun as if she’s won some sorta contest, empress victor-of-a-conquest, mrs. armchair shrink, let me fix you with a comment, princess kick you when you’re down, worshipper to a godhead, it seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn’t chime in quick with unsolicited advice, an unapologetic tyrant of passive aggressive rivalry, ask her a question and catch and handful of sass and irony, and trust me, she is just the worst at board games, debates about the rules like legislators at a court case, tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel, once I even caught her cheating while she kept the score in scrabble, she’s a fucking wreck at checkers, plays monopoly sloppily, always bringing up disputes in games of trivial pursuit, sucks at battleship and risk, she fights better hand-to-hand, 
and don’t even get me started ‘bout how trash she is at candy land

but I’m no adonis either,
fashion sense abysmal, I’ve got two nirvana t-shirts 
that I wear to formal outings and I’ve never owned a cardigan,
catch me buyin’ cargo pants at target from the bargain bin
drink milk straight out the carton, use my hands to scoop out margarine
breakfast table etiquette makes up our morning arguments
and I’m not a glass half full kinda guy,
shipwrecked, flags half-mast hull kinda guy
I never was an optimist, not too good at compromise,
the problem is my ego’s far too fragile to apologize
but she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pegs too
it’s always nice to have somebody close who double-checks you
and honestly, we wouldn’t be ourselves if we were different 
yeah, she’s clumsy and I’m stupid, those are things that we can live with
being perfect’s unrealistic, either way I like our flaws
the way I crack my knuckles often, the obnoxious way she yawns
the way I stutter when I flirt cause I’m not very good with courtship
the way she’s gotta pee the first ten minutes of a road trip
how when she cuts her pancakes it’s in slices, not in squares
the way my daily coffee intake is a crisis, I'm aware
the way I talk in crowded theatre and the way she parks in parallel
the way she goes through pints of ben and jerrys salted caramel
the way...

slide in my DM's

butterflies

https://G59RECORDS.COM

[VERSE I: SHAWTY BURN-A-CHURCH]

grey five nine signed
rough diamonds tryna shine
christ and i
$uicide
you know i'm diving head when crucified
lucifer cried when i told him i'm choosing to die
noose and a knife
but i ain't use the knife to loosen the noose 
keep it tight
abusin the truth that's a lie
fuck boy with a ski mask think he gon rob me blind
fuck boy better think fast when he cock the nine
fuck boy better sink back in that fuckin spine
second guessin crime
7th ward where i snort a slug and cross the fucking line
yet another line inside the cup
another line you should look up
another line that shook you up
i signed the line for lucifer

[VERSE II: NORTHSIDE SHAWTY]

five nine til i'm dead
bitch i'm grey til the death
never gave a fuck bout dyin no
even when i was a jit
pop a jig
load the rig with that motherfuckin china white
fuck it if i die tonight
im gambling with my fuckin life
west bank/northside til the coffin ride
who am i?
i am god
i am basquiat
yung kurt cobain with the scarred veins
mentally derranged
hear the crows say my name?
i'm just wastin my time
i'm just wastin my breath
why can't i just die?
why can't i go next?
why we get no respect?
why i loved holding tecs?
xanax bar on my neck
i pop em
pop em til death
this ain't no motherfuckin trend
everyday feels like the end
feed me, feed me medicine
so i can't feel my sins

KILL YOURSELF Part XI: The Kingdom Come Saga

YOU'RE NOW TUNING IN TO 66.6 FM WITH DJ RAPTURE (THE HOTTEST HOUR OF THE EVENING)

Don't Start

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Hip Bones

Summer 17 (ft. cold hart)

Comfortable

New Year's Day

Good Life Freestyle

Celebration

Gustav Ahr's Album

lil peep lil tracy (prod. cortex / sincewhen)

hey, thanks for 50k <3

additional rock stuff at the end by me :~)

lyrics:
thank you for every moment shared
for every hug and kiss when i was stepping over there
to visit you... some might not think it's fair
but all the time i got to spend as yours and all the care
was more than i could ever ask for
you treated me respectfully and that's more
than anyone else... but now i'm sat sore
caught up in my panic like a task force is breaking down my back door

and i hope to see you thrive, to see you thrive

'cause i'm lying in my bed
with my pillow held over my head
wishing that the weight of all this stress
could hold it down and stop my breath

we must go our seperate ways
i know that is the truth
i wish that i could travel back
to the moments spent with you

and freeze time and space in a silent place
to appreciate your smile for a little bit longer

i'll try to be stronger than i am

a wistful remembrance

stronger than i am (prod. mt marcy)

hey, thanks for 50k <3

lil vocal acting by my homies jake & marcus <3

lyrics:
i think that now i'd call myself a wordsmith
but not because of talent of ability
it's more that i can balance the facilities
of living as a human, while i'm sittin' here decal-ing my sililoquies
and i guess it makes sense, in that regard
i use my brain as a capture card
inhalin' every word i stumble upon
to try to catalog 'em all before the rapture starts

so you can tag along and follow all the wacky antics
like all my stupid problems that relapsing can't fix
"keep your head up out the sand, stop scratching that wrist
before you turn into another anxious ativan kid"
well i guess it's too late... a couple hundred panic states passed
and my broken self ran away fast
feels like i lost my body in a hand grenade blast
with all this absence in my soul, and i can't evade that

so i'm stuck... trapped in a painting of myself
that was made before i changed how i felt
i'm hoping that my other friends can break out and help
but to be honest, it seems like they've greyed out as well
i constantly remember back in high school
sneaking out to kick it with no pay stubs
everything was simpler then, i guess
i only feel free when there's something to escape from

so i'll keep writing songs of longing for the olden
looking to the future for my confidence and boldness
it certainly isn't here, and neither am i
but i think that we've established that enough to decide
that it's time for a change; or, rather, time to revert
'cause we all sorta miss the designs that we were
and maybe nowadays what i write's more diverse
but the patrick years back didn't understand hurt

and that hurts

wordsmith ii (prod. purpan)

produced by, xxxtentacion
garette's revenge

I've dug two graves for us my dear, cant pretend that I was perfect, leaving you in fear, oh man, what a world the things I hear..

If i could act on my revenge, than oh would I..

some kill, some steal, some break your heart, and you had thought that I would let it go and let you walk,

well broken hearts break bones, so break up fast, and I dont wanna let it go, so in my grave i'll rot (repeat)

I love you garette
rest in peace, jocelyn, I will have my revenge upon the world

written and produced by Jahseh Onfroy, "xxxtentacion"

GARRETTS REVENGE

KILL YOURSELF SAGAS XI-XV DROPS 05/26

[VERSE I: YUNG OOZE}

2 strikes
turn that pussy to a sacrifice
slash n gut the gar
ash the blunt and park
roll the window down and ask the price
i've always hated flashing lights
i'd rather grab the mask and knife
snag the cash in spite the fact i smashed your bitch for asking nice
i'm passing pipes and glass and spikes
i bag the ice
ignite the rags in gasoline
one strike of the match and now we talking thrice
3 strikes
i might forget the events of tonight
ruby all bite
leave em bleeding
leave the scene and say goodnight

[VERSE II: LIL CUT THROAT]

if we got business motherfucker
let me know
everybody know my rep since 1994
i don't swing high if i got that nine
bitch in Calvin Klein
blunts borderline
fuck it still smoke it anyway
i be that suicidal worshipped idol
filled up with that medication
burning bibles 
grab your child
chopper style a generation
reading revelations got me thinking
been ready to die but i ain't got no fucking patience
you feel me

[VERSE III: SHAKEWELL]

waking up dirty sodas get poured in
i had some blues, but i sold em
keep k's in glocks, but they stolen
i might just flip em and profit
makin more off licks
run your pockets
my OG's poppin a rocket
i pray to God they free Gozm
but God don't hear me
these prophets is all too fake so i'm mobbin
if you can't get em
i got em
pull up and handle the problem
squeeze 3 hear it move through he breeze
now you standing bloody can't breathe
got goonies who gone off that tweak
sip syrup and drank Hennessy
that just be the truth through these streets

old playlist

Bellica Technica (a.k.a w.eeps) Archive