Thursday, 25 May 2017

Black Lives Matter


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If you REALLY wanna get righteous, don't call each other the mispronunciation of our most cherished River.

If I awaken you, I lay with you.
No gay with you.
May you stay with you when I make due.
Do it.
Give it away.
Lace it.
View it.
True hit.
Face the basics.
We're HATED, stupid!











~follow the buzzards~

Lil Uzi Vert bit RECENT Snoop.


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Let's just be clear.
Snoop Dogg is a legend.
And doesn't write.
When Jay or any non-pen user mumbles, they're actually writing in their head.

So cut the shit.

Either spit or shut the fuck up.

Boe and Dre would cosign this, too.
Y'all niggas is treating worship vibes like everyday battle tracks.

That's fucking with time and space.

Cut that shit out.

The "turn-up"dance is ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE DONE BY MEN, IN THE NAME OF WORSHIPPING THE CREATOR.
IT COULD BREAK A WOMAN.
A WOMAN IS SUPPOSED TO BE PROMISCUOUS TO THOSE INSTRUMENTALS.

BUT NOT FOR A COST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


The true cost of worship is devotion.
Dedication.
Unconditional love.

There is no barcode for the gods.

Sorry, Bey.

Back to Snoop.





Is it blasphemous to say Snoop had a better verse than KRS-ONE?
Their both legends.
Pioneers.
And KRS is from my 2nd hometown.

But DAMN Snoop!
You did your thug thizzle!






lol I'm out, rachits.
I got some records to find.













~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 24 May 2017

It's Nasty...

(from https://www.nytimes.com)

JOSEPH SADDLER WAS BORN on the first day of 1958 in Bridgetown, Barbados, the only boy in a family of four girls. His father, who left the family when Joseph was 7, was a record collector and a transit worker who liked to drink and who used his boxer’s hands against his wife and children. Joseph’s mother was a seamstress who spent much of his childhood in and out of psychiatric care.

Joseph and his younger sister entered foster care when he was 8, shuttling first among foster homes in the Bronx, then spending five years at the Greer School near Poughkeepsie. There, he got his first chance to D.J. at a school dance, playing Bobby Byrd’s “I Know You Got Soul” for an interracial crowd.

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You young fellas gotta DIG for this one.

Respect the culture.

Thank you.

And... you know what?
Rock and Soul.











~follow the buzzards~

Got it twisted.

Conceited.
I admit.
But y'all must think it doesn't touch my heart when you tell me you listen.

Today, as I smoked (censored), I thought about the people who told me I changed their life.
It just set in.
You're welcome!
It sucks, because I can't seem to record anything today.
This year, I'm well into 300 songs.
Several albums.

Lest we forget the unreleased.

Nevertheless, July 17th, 2017 is the ...

Okay, let's settle something right now.

My family feels that giving away free music is a good thing IF I HAVE MONEY.
Jimmy paid me well for my free releases.
There was just no follow through.
Then again, he basically said "keep going" and "don't worry about a label debut."

That part is never made clear by the media.

Jimmy has to talk about me eventually.

Yes, I'm in talks to release a new album.
Things are at a stand still because (and it is here that I instruct you to glance, with your eyes, to the right) there are unclear motives in the Universal building.

Something like that.

Just know that I am loaded with cannons to drop at any given moment.

Thank you for enjoying this year's music.
This has been my most personal year musically, and I'm on edge to see what you guys have to say about my new music.

Drizzy, this is war.
Either you hate it, want to keep it, don't acknowledge ME as it, or I









got it twisted.



















~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

Conceited and shy.


The combination works for me, okay?












~follow the buzzards~

An Absent Barcode.

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They forced.
They pushed.
They confused.

Then they discovered the source.

As the source fled.

There is a new source.

But Sonic will reign.

In his absence, revisit ANY StH after StH 2: HD, in which Sonic was trying to be another being other than himself.

Because I believe I am Sonic.

They will never rape him out of me!!!


















~follow the buzzards~

The 6 Million Dollar Man official lyrics


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"Mama said 'Son, you got to strike drum!'"
-Jay Electronica

"I told myself, 'I'm only gon' get high after I record these next 3 songs..."."
-Charles Hamilton

(verse 1)
I am unstoppable. Those who try to stop me find it to not be logical. Or probable. Obstacles I toss just by existing. My loss I offer to all y'all. Try to find it. It's my clause of living. The bottom line is my existence. Try to get rid of it. My bottom line is SEGA. And I do not want to be called a Player. Bay- (bae), away. Like "-watch". Take away the Bay- and find out who's dry and who would like to -watch. The new Moses. I do dope shit. Who's focused? Listen to the bars while a nigga's in a car...

(hook)
FUCK THAT!
I never mess up.
I never mess up...

FUCK THAT!
I never mess up!
I never mess up!

FUCK THAT!
I NEVER MESS UP!!

I'M LIKE A MACHINE!!!

I'm like a machine... (!)

(verse 2)
My intelligence was enough to son a reverend. Now he's out committing sins. Harlem is for the condemned. Greater Refuge Tem-P-L-E was just a template. To people who were trying to be as faithful as me when I'm on the M-I-C. So microphone, I see you decided to level up. But my head is up. So guess what? You are now beneath me. Loud as the sour that I beseech thee with. I like to smoke. And I don't like to get high and question my folks. So microphone, stay down.  (!) At least for me. You can be on my chain. On the hip. Because I almost got my brain on my hip. Doing some dangerous shit. Let's go!

(hook)
FUCK THAT!
I never mess up.
I never mess up...

FUCK THAT!
I never mess up!
I never mess up!

FUCK THAT!
I NEVER MESS UP!!

I'M LIKE A MACHINE!!!

I'm like a machine... (!)

(verse 3)
I'm tired of dumbing down. How 'bout y'all smarten up? Y'all niggas is proud of yourselves because you're hard as fuck? Well, Charles is just another measurement of seeing where y'all ever been. And you haven't been ANYWHERE, except for where I brought y'all! Look at what I taught y'all! I don't offer y'all nothin'! I should let my niggas off y'all! And they get off, easy! There's no yard for them! Unless they get on they argument shit... (!) then they become a dog, and it's the backyard, again. Let them in the house, too! 'Cause they special, and I don't wanna doubt them dudes! I roll deep, nigga. OD, nigga. You don't know me, nigga. Feeling like I'm sippin' OE, nigga! I JUST OD'D, NIGGA!

~LET'S GO!

(hook)
FUCK THAT!
I never mess up.
I never mess up...

FUCK THAT!
I never mess up!
I never mess up!

FUCK THAT!
I NEVER MESS UP!!

I'M LIKE A MACHINE!!!

I'm like a machine... (!)












~follow the buzzards~

Shazzam! official lyrics


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(verse 1)
Alright... so I made another point. Laid another joint. Ladies, come cuddle with a point Dexter. I mean, a poindexter. But my point was made. I'm over with flexing words. And flexing with them. Yes, I listen. I better listen. In my head, I listen. And I'm getting messed up, because a chick is getting dressed up right in front of me, saying "From the neck up, you are... my company." Probably in my reflection. My correction (basically) leads the direction of Destiny, but my knee isn't twisted. It's left with it. Like standing with the best footage. And fitting. Hamilton... can't seem to get it together, but it's Hamilton spitting this shit. Like, whatever.


(hook)
I don't want a home.
I want to be alone.
(Since when does it matter if I ever gave two shits?
Since when does it matter if I ever gave two shits?)
Sing along if you dare,
Because you know that I don't care.
You know that I don't care.
Know that I don't care.

(verse 2)
...and that's my nigga Shazzam who I'm rappin' about. I ain't giving a damn. I ain't chatting from the mouth, am I? Can I get away with an exclamation p-o-i-n-t? Need a little information about how high I get with my sensi? Since he doesn't make a mistake, it's enless to make me wanna quake neighbors. Just like him. Amp on the side, plus my grin. Flexing on a slick guitar. Learn another lesson while I'm spittin' bars. Perhaps a metaphor. Rapping better than ever, or... cats can take the feather from the pin, but can't seem to get it together again.


(hook)
I don't want a home.
I want to be alone.
(Since when does it matter if I ever gave two shits?
Since when does it matter if I ever gave two shits?)
Sing along if you dare,
Because you know that I don't care.
You know that I don't care.
Know that I don't care.

(verse 3)
My witchcraft is kicking the ass of Black women. And Black women are wishing I'd laugh. Listen. It's not even a grin that I'm giving. I'm simply listening to the past and kissing your ass with it. But imagine if mad shit... if mad different shit comes out of my mouth after this, then that's twisted. I give half my shit. Mad ballistics. Classic hit. Mad at it? Shit... possibly me. Gotta be honest when I flee. But I don't ever, because I'm better forever. Get my feather back. Get a better rap. Looking at better raps in my mind, while I write hooks down. Better define the meaning of happiness for you. Because I'm happy doing what I do. That's hard work for you.

(hook)
I don't want a home.
I want to be alone.
(Since when does it matter if I ever gave two shits?
Since when does it matter if I ever gave two shits?)
Sing along if you dare,
Because you know that I don't care.
You know that I don't care.
Know that I don't care.




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Ride on, Harry Perry.

















~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 22 May 2017

The morning after a blackout...

So yeah.
I don't care anymore.
I've been ruining worship level surprises, subbing Jay via emulation and compliments, and making the best beats of my life.

I'm only interested in music.

The "Gave Drake top" line is from "November 10th, 201?" from The L Word: Simone.
I embarrassed myself, just to show all Simones how low I'm willing to stoop for them.
I might drop it.
I might not.

Once again, I don't care anymore.
"It was never about the money, baby!"
No matter how ridiculous that sounds, no one gave me anything.
I worked for where I was and where I'm at.

A few have tried to take such away from me.
The attack caught me so off guard... Trojan Horse style.

Now, it's about regrouping and prevention.

I'll be back on later.
Hopefully with more happy things to say.








~follow the buzzards~

Sunday, 21 May 2017

"Gave Drake top, now I'm nicer!"

Lol where did that line come from?!
(closes laptop)

Why do my fans think I suck?
Have I gone that far left?
Damn.
It's like, the better I TECHNICALLY get, the more often I have to deal with the talks of having fallen off.

I may have fallen from grace, but I haven't fallen off rapwise.

Or have I?

I stopped writing.
The last time I wrote a verse was for "Hamilton, Charles".
I've ghostwritten, but it's not as gratifying as killing a beat on your own.

So here I am.

Between styles.

And making the illest beats.
In 8 bits.


8-bitilton.

And Diamond has returned.
(alleged silence from the adoring crowd of all)


Yes, this is The Charles Hamilton Show, but the network keeps making changes at the last second.
Right before I go live.
And the cast has been on strike since 2013.

Will the show still be a hit this summer?






















~follow the buzzards~