Chill pop

saccade

intro II

PAVANA

U THOUGHT I WAS FEELIN U

zeyn - sadio

shrek

N.Y.M.R

WOODY

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Juicy J & Shelley FKA DRAM rocks but A$AP sucks?

THE SCENE - a documentary album about the warez underground.

Not about piracy. About a culture built on anonymity and honor, where kids raced software releases across continents for nothing but prestige. Where ASCII art was identity. Where profit was for sellouts.

Then the FBI came.

From golden age to federal indictment - the crackers, couriers, and siteops who built an underground empire, and what happened when the game turned real.

Featuring the sound of the scene itself - keygen music, tracker vibes, chiptune aesthetics pushed into modern production.

All lyrics sourced from DOJ press releases, court documents, and published interviews.

—————————————————————

DOCUMENTARY NOTE

This album is a dramatic interpretation of documented events. All factual claims are based on DOJ press releases, court documents, and published interviews.

Character perspectives are dramatized narrative devices. Individuals depicted were convicted of federal crimes; their portrayal reflects documented facts and public record.

Sources: DOJ Criminal Division, Operation Buccaneer records, published interviews

BigRar

LIFE

Clocklight flickers, minutes drag and fold
A lone figure drifting where the streets feel old
This ground stays quiet, heavier than sound
Plain thread sewn on my shirt
I stand up slow, brush the static from my head
Clear it, clear it

Turn it up a bit, yeah… let the rhythm sit closer

It’s been years since I tried to fill a room with noise
Now I let the walls answer back instead of my voice
I say I’m fine, keep the sentence trimmed
But pause when the silence stretches thin
Night air hums through a half-lit space
Shadows rearrange the same old place
I archive words I never send
Distance feels safer than pretend
Family asks how I’ve been lately
I choose calm tones, nothing weighty
Days move clean, no friction shown
Eyes carry truths I keep alone

Clocklight flickers, minutes drag and fold
A lone figure drifting where the streets feel old
This ground stays quiet, heavier than sound
Plain thread sewn on my shirt
I stand up slow, brush the static from my head
Clear it, clear it

Turn it up a bit, yeah… let the rhythm sit closer

Uh… weeks collapse into familiar shapes
Routines smooth out the sharpest aches
Messages blink, I wait to reply
Not from fear, just conserving time
Used to chase noise to feel awake
Now stillness shows me what remains
Progress looks dull when no one’s near
But solitude makes the signal clear
I walk through days without display
No performance left to maintain
Alone, but steady, nothing to prove
Just learning how to stay in tune

Clocklight flickers, minutes drag and fold
A lone figure drifting where the streets feel old
This ground stays quiet, heavier than sound
Plain thread sewn on my shirt
I stand up slow, brush the static from my head
Clear it, clear it

Turn it up a bit… let it fade with me

Male solitude

heat

REFLEXION

U THOUGHT I WAS FEELIN U

TICES

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