Stealing The Planet's Core

Some tune I can't get out of my head.. so now it's stuck in yours.

Feel

Written and Performed: Nasty Tha Mc and Cozmo Jethro
Beat: Nasty Tha Mc
Fx and Samples: Nasty Tha Mc 
Mixed and Mastered: Nasty Tha Mc and Cozmo Jethro

Lyrics:

(Nasty Tha Mc)

Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this.
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this. (Aww Yea)
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this. (Let’s hoop it up)
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this.

Cross over on a bozo, AI (watch me, watch me)
In the game, oh yea what I be, EA (EA baby.)
Fly kicks on my feet.
What I’m rockin’ yea ya see. (smokin’)

Laced oh yea, all the way up,
Tie it tight, hu, that’s right (that’s right)
So I put the boogie in ya slide.
To the beat, get electric that’s it (woo)

Watch me oh my, do my move, oh yea watch me. (watch me)
Now I’m getting down.  Check it out now. (now)
Cross over on you, that’s it (that’s it)
With some skills that be made. (woo)

Magnificent and awesome. 
Yi, drainin’ 3s like Curry. (Splash)
I’m makin’ a splash up in here. (You know)
I told you what I be up in here. (Listen)

Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this.
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this. 
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this. 
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this.

Aight now, you all laced up?  (Aw yea)
You all laced up? (Let’s do it)
Let it go.

(Cozmo Jethro)

Uh oh, here I go (uh huh)
Rockin’ them kicks again Cozmo. (Ok)
And Nasty shootin’ them hoops. 
On the court listenin’ to Too $hort. (Too $hort)

As I lace em up, feelin’ alright.
Droppin’ 3s like KD all night. (Swish)
Then I’m slashin’ to the basket.
Jam it through the hoop, bloop. (what?)

Naw, I wish. Try to dunk the ball.
Ahh Ankle twist. (damn son.)
Now I’m writhing on the ground in pain.
Awww shit. (You aight? You aight?)

Nasty comes over, scoops me up.
He’s like, 

(Nasty The Mc)

Everything gonna be ok, what. Uh.

Let me take over. O my.
I got this last minute. 
With my fly kicks on. 
Drainin’ a 3, over here ma. 

Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this.
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this. 
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this. 
Rocking some fly kicks,
Doin what it do, getting down to this.

(Cozmo Jethro)

Now I’m sittin’ at my house.
My ankle hurts and I’m like where’s my kicks?
Did I leave my shoe at the court?
Shit, I’m one shoe short.  (Aw mayne)

Today I shouldn’t have played ball.
Lost my shoe and took a fall.
Next time I play ball.
Not gonna dunk, yo, and that’s all (that’s all that’s all…)

A Hoop Story

“At the end of the day, just know that God made you, so you can be your own individual, and don’t let people give you that peer pressure.” - Wyclef jean

John Riggins (Ft ClevPro)

Mavio Messiah is an **artist** with a YouTube channel ¹. He also has a SoundCloud account where you can listen to his music ². Some of his popular tracks include "Debate" featuring Lauryn Hill ³ and "They gon Hate!" featuring The Profit ⁴. You can also find him on Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok ⁵.

liar!

Written, performed, mixed and mastered: Cozmo Jethro
Chorus vocals: Jenny
Cuts by DJ Real
Roy Ralston voice: Korey Reed

Album art picture taken at Barton Colisseum in Little Rock, Arkansas, USA in 1984. My dad, Forbes Lapp, seated in the foreground on the left. Ronnie Kestenbaum, standing to his right.

Lyrics:

This summer I took my 86 year old dad across the country to meet up with folks I hadn’t seen since 1984 when I was 8 years old.

A little background on this story.
About my Dad and his buddy Ronnie.
A couple ball players from the Bronx.
Back in the 50s they would light it up.

In the 70s they coached together
at Stevenson HS in the South Bronx.
Which was ground zero
for the birth of hip hop.

Together they won back to back
NYC HS basketball championships.
Refining their skills and teachin the kids.
Setting their sights on the next level they did.

They moved together to D1 college
at University of Arkansas at Little Rock.
Won 2 conference championships during their stay
Than in '84, they went their own way.

Traveling back to the past.
Make sure you got your boarding pass.
Across the country, see old friends at last.
And at the bash raise your glass.

So this summer it was
Ronnie’s 80th Birthday party.
He was holding a bash in Florida
All the way on the other side of the country.

I was like Dad, yo we gotta go.
You gotta go see your old buddies.
So we packed our stuff and
hopped a couple of planes right across the country.

As we walked into Ronnie’s house.
With his family and friends
it was like being in NYC again.

Everybody’s loud, talking at the same time.
With their NYC accents.
Then Russel, Ronnie’s son walks in,
He’s deaf, and his talk is so distinctive.
Instantly transformed back to '84.
When me and Russel used to play together.

The next night at the bash.
I sat with my Dad and Kevin Brown.
One of my Dad’s players from Bronx.
He also DJed during the birth of Hip Hop.

It was enlightening talking with Kevin Brown
who was involved in that scene.
Involved in hip hop,
since it's infancy.

Another old D1 player who attended, Roy Ralston.
A rowdy, big, loud country boy, fit in well with the New Yorkers.
He picked me up almost over his head, shaking me and shouting,
“Jeddy you’re a kid! Jeddy you’re a kid! Jeddy you’re a kid! Jeddy you're a kid."

Traveling back to the past
Make sure you got your boarding pass.
Across the country, see old friends at last.
And at the bash raise your glass.

I remember all these people
As larger than life figures when I was a kid.
Seein them this summer, bein on their level.
That was something really special.

It was like traveling back to my past.
At long last it was actually a blast.

Meeting My Past (feat. Jenny) (cuts. DJ Real)

The song "Virtue Machine" is a fierce, genre-blending indictment of the Liberal/NDP bureaucratic and ideological systems that masquerade as moral progress while systematically oppressing individuals through endless rules, empty promises, and self-serving control. It portrays a soulless apparatus—symbolized by clipboards, forms, screens, and "paper saints"—that grinds down human spirit under the guise of virtue, reform, and justice, enriching its operators on failure and spin. Through aggressive rap verses, soaring blues-metal choruses, and psychedelic breakdowns, the lyrics expose the hypocrisy of both political sides ("no left, no right, just noise between") and call for rebellion: burning the code, breaking the gears, and reclaiming authentic freedom from a polished cage that suffocates the human pulse.

Virtue Machine

This piece marks a pivot from the series' focus on personal resilience and quiet action to a broader societal lament: while individuals build authenticity through effort, institutions often manage collapse through evasion. It's a raw indictment of systems that prioritize narrative discipline over tangible relief, ending on a defiant note that true compassion demands naming—and fighting—the fire.

I’ve reached the point where facts stop landing
Charts pile up, nobody’s standing
Receipts waved like they’re talismans
While the room fills up with smoke and chants

They’re not blind, they’re committed
That’s the trick nobody admits
Belief beats data every time
When identity’s on the line

They govern stories, not outcomes
Soft words over hard ground
If the message sounds kind enough
The damage underneath is brushed off

Meetings while it burns
Notes taken, voices calm
They don’t hear the alarms
They rewrite what concern means
Meetings while it burns
Sacrifice said like a spell
No one names who’s paying the bill
While the fire gets managed

Housing cracks, they call it transition
Hospitals bend, they blame conditions
Food lines stretch, productivity sinks
And we’re told to breathe, to wait, to think

Patience is a luxury
Owned by people not drowning
Those without leverage don’t get time
They get managed explanations

Control dressed up as competence
Optics mistaken for evidence
Every failure gets more layers
More spending, fewer answers

Meetings while it burns
Calm voices, sharpened pens
Every problem needs more management
Meetings while it burns
They don’t promise relief
They promise stability
While stability eats the floor

They speak like losses are necessary
Like pain is part of the model
If people resist, that’s the flaw
Not the plan, not the throttle

Prosperity isn’t the pitch anymore
Just smoother decline, tighter doors
They don’t offer a way back up
They offer better language for down

You can’t fix a country by overruling it
You can’t feed kids with narrative discipline
You can’t house families with moral tone
Or staff hospitals from a podium

Meetings while it burns
Criticism flagged as risk
Warnings treated like threats
Meetings while it burns
Emergency logic spreads
The definition of harm expands
And exits disappear

This is how it ends quietly
Not with sirens, not with screams
But with minutes, memos, committees
And children breathing smoke they didn’t choose

I’m not here to convince the clapping crowd
That window closed when the math got loud
This isn’t an argument
It’s a flare

If you’re cheering while the basics fail
While sacrifice never names itself
Understand what you’re defending
Isn’t compassion

It’s the fire
Being called necessary

Meetings While It Burns

Written by C. Reid. Featuring 2.0
All guitars written and performed by Richie Blackwood
© All Rights Reserved.

I'm Feelin' You

Winnipeg composer, retired from the farm, still chasing meaning in melody. My work lives where TV cues meet YouTube soundscapes, with a few albums in between. Built in Mixcraft Pro, fuelled by late-night coffee, stubborn curiosity, and a Stoic’s sense of timing. Also writing on politics, history, and philosophy, because sound isn’t my only instrument.

Meetings While It Burns

Wayne Mathison

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