Thursday, July 19, 2018

Memo 3

If you plan to sign to a major label... or ANY agreement... be aware that even death won't break the agreement.
You'll never find out, any other way.

So when I got back in the game, NOT ONLY WAS IT NOT FOR ME, it was for those who "wanted to see me 'do better'".

I took a MUCH lesser advance, relenquished creative/artistic/aesthetic control, allowed hit producers to put the album together, and acted "normal".

For you.

You want a thank you?

You miss the old me?

Here's a reminder.

Better yet, a memo.

Be a doll and make a cover for me.

Two options.

There is a sole benefit to this recent deal, nevertheless.

Till death do us part, Honkeys.

(grins to self)

Shouts to Stouffer's, Twix, Krispy, and Getty.


Mockulatory statements.

Oxtails and cabbage in a cab from Brooklyn to Upstate, NY.
And red blankets.

This entry serves as an informative note.

(smiles to self, considering the considered and unconsidered)

The music on is in 8-bits.

I spent 2017 perfecting 8-bit, real time music.

Been working on it for 8 years before employing it in ANY music I release.

Nevertheless, yes. is my 8-bit, independent music.

With the exception of ONE project.

The bitrate is determined by SEGA.

Take a wild guess.

I may go back to NiteTime (thinking emoji).
I also feel I have to shout out some of the greatest 8-bit composers.

Chiptune is a genre.
Now that you've been put on (if anyone is reading this), you've also been warned.

Biting is not dentally hygienic.

Many lessons have been learned in 30 years.
I'm willing to teach.
My inner-Satan says "Figure It Out".
Agape says share through the despair.
Charles the Alien is like... "What did you JUST say?"

(thinking emoji, posted under KanBer pic)

As I raise my hand from under the surface, music will emerge with.

Until Opening Day.


(my team can pick any sport they want and be allstars!)


Wednesday, July 18, 2018

A Midwestern Easter

So I died.

"Been plannin' it for years!"
-Squints, "The Sandlot"

In Cleveland.
Hereby making my "grave here in Harlem" line fugahzi.

On the road to perdition, this was... recorded.

What I want, need, desire, require and have to address, IF I return, is here.

I may not be as privileged as "others", but the freedom to say what I feel is sweeter than the possibility of resurrection.

Thank you, 9th Wonder.


Electric ill

I might go fishing this afternoon.
I went fishing when I was about 10.
Myself, Kenny Banks and his dad.
The Banks Family are piano MAVENS.
I developed my own style over time.
Whenever I would visit Ohio (Columbus), I would have learned new songs and techniques.

And Kenny would have stepped up LEVELS.

Always was encouragement.

Humility might be the arrogance of talented musicians.
Perhaps as a warning.
Don't question the skill, because I don't question your existence.

As I should.

Again, a fact and factor tapped into on a song of mine ("StarChasers", no less).

So yeah.

(sighs and laughs to self)

With regards to ACTUALLY fishing (smh), I think I'll wait until my son is here to go fishing again.
Like... in a canoe, on the water, near the old Brick Oven Studio.
Those waters were so peaceful.

To bond with my son.

To have a daughter.

Aight, so check.
I genuinely have NO CLUE how to raise a daughter.
I'm already passive-aggressive with women.
Somewhat of a bad reputation.
I could drop names, but that would be indicative of said fact being true.
Thus negating the unspoken/unrecognized truth of growth.

I digress.

All I can do is tell her to look up the word "lady" in a dictionary and thesaurus.
This, after making sure she's well-versed in women's history.
She must master the month of March.
The fact I mated with her mother should show her the strength and value of love.
I can tell her about my past/past relationships, and somehow I'd have to show her how my life has changed since her arrival.

She might know.

The things most detrimental (bad for you) are always the things that appeal to you.
Knowing how and why is the goal.
You do have to bump your head a few times.
And I'll be there to nurse her boo-boos.

I don't think I can physically punish my daughter.
And I'm sure my son and I will ruffhouse.
But there is more to parenting than spankings and buying the latest cool stuff.

When it's all said and done, they will be neither ripe or spoiled.
They will be, modestly, greater than produce.

The fishing commences.




A cool, cool beverage.
That’s a few hours from now.
I’m getting ready to get my coffee.

The game isn’t over because dreams still occur.

As an argument brews up, a cup is much ado.


Hope y’all are enjoying Summer.



Called for charging

This morning was spent (or is being spent) on finding out what #WorldEmoDay is.
To my credit, I am considered Emo Rap by publications like XXL.
Putting me in a category with Joe Budden, placing Eminem in the Shock Rap/Horror Core genre.
Also making me a target for URL rappers who get crowd reactions from making light of matters of the heart.

Last night, I had a few and walked around looking for trouble.
I won’t say it’s a rare thing I do, I won’t say I do it often.

Went to bed around 4:50.

Between 5am and 10:30 (right about now), I slept.
Best sleep in almost 10 years.
At the feet of my lady.
Next to my laptop.
No obligation to any.

There have been A LOT of suggestions the past 5 years.
“Do another song with Rita!”
“Drop this!”
“Say that!”

For whom?

To do what?

Realize and understand, I didn’t have to drop The Pink Lavalamp, AT ALL.
Those who do understand should just smile.
Regardless, I did.
Then, 10-12 years later, I put it on vinyl.
A goal, if I was going to put it out (according to 18-19 year old CH).

In that sense, I achieved my goal.
AFTER I achieved my goal (meeting and working with Eminem).

I’ve revealed and healed.

All there is for me to do now is provide for myself.
Yet there is always someone who wants to “put me back on” or “collab”.
You will benefit more than I will.
Then keep it moving when it’s time to give credit.
Or downplay the credit I deserve.


What is being asked of me, really?

I have my itinerary.
I have goals.
There is the big picture and my little world.

The ability and freedom to decide is my new fight.
Could be the same fight as before.

I’ll be around.


Tuesday, July 17, 2018

My "Lose Yourself" moment

Get up. Get ya work in. Nigga, do your sit-ups. These lil niggas is babies. They quick to spit-up. Me? I just spit "out". If you don't feel it, nigga... get out. It's my game. You can get power pressed on you, or reset. No presets. "Gone! little... little... nothin'...!" I called you twice as little, because I'm nice on the mic; "just a lil bit." And I don't really give a shit. I'm just spittin 'cause I'm a true lyricist. Dig the shit that I'm GONNA spit. All the listeners wanna know, "Am I gonna Boe?" Plause...? I just gotta tell you the truth when I step in the booth. I'm irregular to all you regular "troops". Shout out to those that salute me. Go ahead and shoot me (if you want). Your girl is my groupie. I'm just tellin' the truth, B. And she ain't even tryna be the NuBruceLee (kick it with you, B). Usually, she'd tell you she's "out with her girls". And I ain't tryna say that I'm a new-she (pause...). I'm just tryna say that she wanna hop in that "Mitt's-To-Be-C..." Mitsubishi. Whatever. I'm fuckin' up the words, but I'm fucked up in the head. That's what's fucked up and absurd. Step your rap game up. Get your name up. I got the flames, I will flame ya. And I ain't got a flamer to aim at "ya muffuggin' dome". When I'm comin' off the dome, "Leave your rhymes at home." Go to a poetry slam, witchya bum ass poems. And you will get Snap'd on. Backboard. Clapped on. "That's wrong!" "That's Charles, doing what he always does..." And that's why I got the strongest buzz! "(placed in Standard English context) Hey Jimmy! I need more money! Not trying to be funny (because I got a great budget), but apparently, the public just loves it! I need more money for the pocket my nigga, so... fuck it!" More cash, so Charles can spaz! Maybe I can call a cab to go straight from Brooklyn to Taiwan. I'm nicer! Maybe I'm as nice as Saigon when he came out. And I ain't dissin' him. I hope he's still listening. The nigga was the illest when he came in. Do you feel it? Now the game is under MY control. Mind Control, like Common. I'm done bombing! I'm outta this... yo...

(my blog, I quote what I want; Q spit tho...)

(CH pt. 2) I rip and I rhyme, I rhyme and I RIP. This happens to be the way that Charles Hamilton spit. Can y’all handle the shit that I’m about to hand to you, like an offering plate? “Don’t talk to me; wait…” I’m not finished. I swear to God I’m demented. Behind bars, and I’m not serving a sentence. Er’ybody says “Charles, You can freestyle on radios, but can you write a song?” Nigga, “right on!” Like a magazine. Fist in the air. And your *chk* got her legs in the air. And I’m diggin’ it. Yeah. …I’m sorry. I’m diggin’ her. Yeah! And I ain’t tryna be disrespectful or mysoginist, but it’s obvious that there’s a difference between Women and Bitches. And I'm diggin’ them ditches while I be digging in they ditches. They lips is waiting for my Chapstick. I guess that’s the same as a fat dick. That’s it. Nothing but these bum ass theatrics from these wrap-ass actors. “…and they nothin’ but actresses!” And me? I’m feeling like Speilberg “when I spill words”, ‘cause I got nothin’ but real words. Now whether I’m on-beat or off-beat, NOBODY CAN OFF ME! THERE’S NO ARMY! Nothing but an ARMORY behind me. You can’t harm me. Same label as Shady and D-R-E… and “that brolic dude!” And “That Brolic Dude” got a lot of food. And I gotta admit, I got a “home” plate. So when I hit home plate, I guess there’s NO WAY you can beat me. I spit nothin’ but home runs. Matter fact, Grand Slams. That’s why these cats can’t stand me. They can’t stand. They ain’t got no damn feet. My family tells me that I shot me. ‘Cause I’m "cocky." I could body myself, but I’ll probably help myself. "I can’t help myself!” I just happen to be the most talented. With the most balance. Shit. Why would you come after him? “‘Cause there’s nobody after him!’” I happen to be The One. If you’re number zero, then I’m having fun. ‘Cause you just goin’ around... and a round. Just clowning the sound that I come with. Nothin’ but the great samples and a drum kit. Who shot ya? I”m the new Big Poppa. Might as well call The Doctor. Yeah… and my mans is from Brooklyn. Keep lookin'. And I don’t need to look in my phone book when I wanna get a little bit of neck. I ain’t even tryna disrespect any chicks, but I get ‘em wet. I’m just having WAY TOO MUCH FUN, saying some dumb shit. Nothing but flames from the tongue. Yo, my man. The last time I was at the station, I went to World Star, er’ybody was hatin! They said, “Joe Buddens wrote iller shit than you, and he had a little bit of minute…” …but the little bit of liquor that the nigga Royce gave me made my bars CRAZY. What up to Jay-Z... If I don’t sell, I’m as nice as AZ. If I DO sell, I’m as nice as Shady. But since I’m black, I guess that means I’m “wack”, and if I talk about white, then it has to crack. But, since we got another brother in the office, I guess I can talk the Charles shit that y’all “get”. Aw, man. Might as well shop at Target because I’m AIMING to cell (thinking emoji). I’m not in the game just to *sell”, but it just so happens (like Wale said) Mitochondria; I have to *cell*. Because if I don’t, …well, I guess these other mu’fuggas gonna miss the boat. Because I’m CRUISE-ing right now. These other cats is losing right now. I’m a bully and I bruise your lifestyle. And when I “smash" these “groupies", I "use a Lifestyles."

Proud of this cypher.
Was going through a lot the week of.
Between Sonic the Hamilton and "Intervention".

(front on me now, nigga; I'll be the end of you)

No one around.
Those around, I hold them down.



Monday, July 16, 2018

The Binge vol. 4: Overdose

Before my 30, I had to figure out how I was going to die.
And fight the fear of dying.
I like breathing, to quote Dr. Dre.
And all objects of self-destruction I had around me led to the very subject manner that “caused” such psychotic behavior to begin with.
So, I tried the chemical route.
Madlib already G-checked me by calling pillers soft.
So I had to DIG.

I was around the family I could trust to hurt me, being introduced to family members who were not around when I was.
Leading to suspicion.
I was alone in an apartment, feeling like a coward and a gluttonous pig.
Barely able to pay for it.
Yet, I was “home”.

I am a musician.
In love with ThoseFunkyAliens.
And I always will be.
However, NO ONE can take my gifts away.
Be that as it may, musicians are subject to rejection.
Jealousy-based slander.

I can admit jealousy.
I am jealous of Drake.
I am jealous of J Dilla.
In some respects, I’m jealous of Jack.

The jealousy rises when looking at the fear and intimidation they bring out of people, along with the inspiration they put in them.

Their abilities are AWESOME.
Drake is fashion forward and musicially RIGHT ON TIME.

J Dilla IS a style, and has inspired a generation of producers 12 years after his “passing”.

Jack is evil.
Unapologetically evil.

I am a blue collar musician with above average sense abilities.

Not to further amplify an unspoken beef with the proceeding’s bard, but...

“Either love me or leave me alone.”

The official release.

Check out @nypost’s Tweet:

Opening Day.



The credits have been rolling.


Saturday, July 14, 2018

AMidsummer_s Nightmare

The Dream:
A Midsummer Night's Dream is a comedy written by William Shakespeare in 1595/96. It portrays the events surrounding the marriage of Theseus, the Duke of Athens, to Hippolyta, the former queen of the Amazons. These include the adventures of four young Athenian lovers and a group of six amateur actors (the mechanicals) who are controlled and manipulated by the fairies who inhabit the forest in which most of the play is set. The play is one of Shakespeare's most popular works for the stage and is widely performed across the world.

The Nightmare:
Hippolyta finds another man, the lovers exile Theseus and the amateurs allow the fairies to turn them against him.

The Awakening:
I have lost more than I gained. I have hurt more than I have been allowed to heal. I have been betrayed more than I have sinned against. Since, I have stolen. Wounded. Committed treason.

The Reality:

I died, shortly after recording this album. To the concern of no one and the encouragement of all. There is no comedy in this musical. Only the thespianic torment of a pure soul.

The Consequence:

With my departure comes Ogilvie. He is safe with me. 

Enjoy Shadowboxing. Speak with a Silver tongue. Take it from tippity. Continue the bravery of ignorance. Don’t give a fuck. Step down. Watch the clock. Be no one. Walk your dogs.

I’ll be around.

  1. ~phenomenal~