Wednesday, 31 August 2016

" time machine."

I was once a sucker for love.
A sucker of love.

Then 2012.

Then I lost love.
But I gained a love and devotion to music like never before.
Music, I love you more than anything.
I want to love romance, but music has my heart.


Even though this is a love song, I still feel/felt a void.
I wasn't making the kind of music I love and that loves me back.

Through God I found SEGA.
Through SEGA I found Satan.
Through Satan I found Nintendo.
Through Nintendo, I found SEGA again.

All of the aforementioned love and respect Charles Hamilton.

Charles Hamilton is The All Seeing Eye.

It feels like it's pointless to put out music/blog, because YOU CAN ALREADY SEE WHAT I'M TYPING/HEAR WHAT I'M SAYING (or recording).
So respect the sacrifice.
At the same time, I need not be too defensive, because this could all be a strike against my name.
Hence the existence of Drake and his post-Illuminati movement.

You may pick up a vibe that I feel I sold out (or souled out) when I signed to Turn First.
Though my soul is in talking about SEGA and I was asked not to talk about them, that's still not as bad as what would normally have to be done in order to even get this opportunity.
And in recent times, they allowed me to talk about such matters in my music, as long as it's in the independently released music.

I had to say that, because I was listening to "G" (from Geriatric Youth) today and it sounds like I dissed them.
I wasn't trying to diss ANY member of SEGA.
Maybe YOU, Scooter, because I STRONGLY hate you.

Even though you could become a non-factor of hate pretty soon.

And I love my dad.
You might be hearing more about me and my dad pretty soon.

I just don't want to lose my 6 over loving family.

Am I allowed to love my family as Satan, despite whatever may have gone down behind my back?
Am I still Him in your eyes?
Can you accept that things (as far as me being the ruler of the world) have always been this way, due in part to my ethereal hard work?

Then accept the new me.

~follow the buzzards~

Spinning on 9/11

There might be a huge cypher for StarChasers.
Get your bars ready.

~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 29 August 2016

Not guilty (a possible repeated title)

I am spiritually being accused of killing Madonna.

I did not kill Madonna.

I happen to respect her ambition.
I think she is an extremist, but having her on one's side is beneficial.
I still wouldn't use her.

By "use her", I mean to manipulate.
I would charm her out of her assess chaps, but I wouldn't put her uncompromising positions.

Even if she is the face of the enemy.

Silver is the voice of opposition.
Madonna (Jay) is the face of the enemy.
And Sonic is the franchise of SEGA.

And dating Meek Mill.

Can my underground tyranny expand into what is now considered the mainstream?

Angry Charles Hamilton says:

This brand new person is accepting the flaws of the scrutinizing eyes placed upon him by fame.
And is more than prepared to face...

The Gatekeeper.

~follow the buzzards~

Dear Gene Wilder

Your spirit is safe in my hands.
Ready for late nights and maniacal laughter?

Dedicated to Jenniea Carter


~follow the buzzards~ 

Just because she's watching...

...doesn't mean she enjoys it.

Something new from myself and Spud Mackeneasy.
Mixtape coming soon.
"Hamilton, Charles", early 2017.

And it's like that... uh-oh!


~follow the buzzards~

I BEEN down.

Yeah, I'm down.
But not out.
And far from done.

Thank you Brandon Boyd for those words of wisdom.

I just had an interesting Twitter session with some StarChasers.
Apparently, they want to FEEL the music like they did in my earlier works.
I told them that all my emotion is in my lyrics.
My beats have raw emotion on them as well, I'm just having more fun being more DJ minded than before.

Before, I knew how to make you groove.
I still do.
It's just, now I have a greater responsibility to and with music.
So my sample choice isn't for easy listening.
In fact, none of my music from 2012 and beyond is for easy listening.
It's pretty hardcore.

Hopefully, such won't get me arrested.

I got some work to do, so I'll probably be back on later.
Just stay tuned.

And shouts to Randaman from Definitely Amazing.
I will be posting our interview for "Saturday Morning Cartoons and Cereal " very soon.

If I haven't already.

~follow the buzzards~

Sunday, 28 August 2016

Vanity Fair lyrics

(verse 1)
I lay (laid) down in a London hotel room. You can tell who's been listening to mainstream radio. Don't blame me. Don't say so, either. Because I flame beats. Let me know what I mean to you. I'm so *mean* when I'm in the booth. No codeine, but I go lean on every goalie. With a hockey stick on my foot. (Like) "Get out of the way! Let me score!" Look at what I put in place. The motherfuckin' Ace (All Seeing Eye) of the State. And the whole globe... wow. Such a term. Can't fuck with a worm when he's puffin' sherm. (looks at joint) The sherm gotta be a little natural, though. I don't mean to hassle you hoes...

Keep your eyes on
the fire that I kill you with.
Keep your eyes on
the liars life will bill you with.
I'm on fire! 
Beauty is a liar!
But I insist I'm ugly.
You know the scenario...

(verse 2)
I can't wait till you translate. The love we can make can break anybody. Holla at your man Drake. But he's been giving that 6 love. Mr. 666 is up. Pick it up like you dropped it to the floor. First 3 digits of a number will get me a cab to your door. I'm not mad anymore. Just let me black some more. Black Magick, employed. I am that BOY! Ever since I was on the floor with my ball and bottle. Y'all are going full throttle, with your hands to the sky, bowing down. Am I allowed to get down with sound?

Keep your eyes on
the fire that I kill you with.
Keep your eyes on
the liars life will bill you with.
I'm on fire! 
Beauty is a liar!
But I insist I'm ugly.
You know the scenario...

(verse 3)
I feel like force is hurting my teeth! More important to me is my beauty. Never seen in a boutique. I need a beautiful freak to ride with me. I'm in the passenger seat. She's in the driver seat, unfastening me. I'm like "Ma, can you please slow down? 'Cause we about to be dying! ...or somewhere flying through a balcony!" She's doing 120. 42nd street. 7th ave. I'm too high with my Heaven ass! Forever it's a class. Niggas better back down. Laugh at how I take my background and I call it "Mad Out".

Keep your eyes on
the fire that I kill you with.
Keep your eyes on
the liars life will bill you with.
I'm on fire! 
Beauty is a liar!
But I insist I'm ugly.
You know the scenario...

I hope you feel me.

~follow the buzzards~

The Suicidal Attention Whore returns

Got some good news about the album.
We're looking at an early first quarter release.
Very excited.
We just gotta get it mastered.
So, no more (free) releases until some time next year.

And I JUST recorded some dope shit with Spud Mack.
I'll just spin it on 9/11.

I'm VERY excited about that day.

Thank you, StarChasers, for your support and patience over the last 10 years.
It's been 10 years already.
Well, 10 years since my 2nd album.

Sober Karaoke.

The album that got the attention of HchO.
The album that got me into the FDA studio.
The studio that produced The Pink Lavalamp and "Brooklyn Girls".
The songs that led to my deal.

The deal that led to ... my fate.

Or is it destiny?

I wanna talk about SEGA forever.
Just gotta groom myself to NOT.


~follow the buzzards~

Saturday, 27 August 2016

From Briana Latrise

Yeah... I still got love for her.

She's lit, y'all. Get ready.

~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 26 August 2016

The Low High Five

So I mix.
And I mix well.
In 2012, some of my favorite releases were my most "lo-fi" stuff.
However, I was using state-of-the-art technology (namely a tricked-out Logic Pro for recording and ProTools HD for mastering) to make it sound so gritty.
But it wasn't a RZA kind of grit.
It was new.
A new sound.
Not Daniel Johnston either, Dalvyn.
A totally new sound.
It might not be able to be in a DJ set (sorry; gotta think about the speakers), but it's certainly good for home usage.

And consumption.

I recorded the lo-fi ass Skate Key in '87 project in an expensive, extensive studio.
And UStreamed it.
So you saw the process.
Both in the mix and in the recording.

So how dare some of you critique my sound!

I remember NOT using compression in my music.
And it was considered hi-fi.
But I recorded these songs in lo-fi, non-traditional studios.

And I'm not talking about FDA.

From the Desk Of... was recorded in a Bronx studio.
I knew I wanted the album to sound like a conversation.
I didn't want too many effects.
I just wanted it to sound as personal as possible.

Hope you felt me.

So yeah.
Trust the sound.
And if you want the grit back, just give me the word.
I'll get right to it.

~follow the buzzards~

Thursday, 25 August 2016

Killing in the name of...

I once wanted to be the first Black president.
Then, Barack Obama.
I'm not mad anymore, but he will forever be the Big Pun of politics.

A dream shatterer.

Moving on.

I really need to make some money.
The album is delayed, the only show I'm doing (for a while) is the Bowery DJ set, and no one is buying beats.
I can't front, Muhammad Hamli got his back against the ropes.

Some "fan" yesterday called himself "expressing an opinion" about my new music.
Basically saying, just because he doesn't understand the meaning behind my new music doesn't mean it's as great as I believe it to be.
I can brush it off, but it's a bit deeper.
There are things my brain/mind has access to that not everyone else can comprehend.
I make light of it.
Doing so makes me smile.
Anyone who knows ANYTHING about music knows how WRAP that shit is.

I feel bad for the victims of police officers, but what do you do when a victim runs the government?

Back to Obama.

If my back was as against the wall as I perceived it to be, then I feel no shame or guilt.
Someone has to acknowledge the inner hog in me.

So I may have lost favor among Black people.

Why does it feel like I'm running for office?

Every election... and I mean EVERY election, I try to prove I am more capable of running the government than the people running.
If I endorse Wilver (Hillary), Dilla (Trump) will be tight.
Vice versa.

Neither of them have any business (technically) running for office.
Dilla should stick to sound and Silver should stick to psyworks.
Very simple.

But no.

Everyone is going above and beyond the call of duty.

Such would be cool, but MY toes are being stepped on.
The multiplayer game of politics (in modern times) was designated to ME, a LONG TIME time ago.

Whether you choose to believe it or not.

Fine then.
I'm taking music.
I will excel with it.
And NO ONE will be better.
You can diss me.
You can work with legendary producers.
You could even sample ME.
But at the end of the day, music knows its Jesus.

And I'll die again to show it the power of a resurrected Charles Hamilton.

End of entry.

~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 24 August 2016

I might get some of this tatted...

I'm the definition of, half man, half drugs
Ask the clubs, Bad Boy - that's whassup
After bucks, crush cruise after us
No gaze, we ain't laughin much
Nothin but big thangs, check the hitlist
How we twist shit, what change but the name?
We still here, you rockin wit the best
Don't worry if I write rhymes, I write checks (ahh!)
Who's the boss? Dudes is lost
Don't think cause I'm iced out, I'ma cool off
Who else but me? (who else?) And if you don't feel me
that mean you can't touch me, it's ugly, trust me
Get it right dawg, we ain't ever left
We just, moved in silence and rep to the death (yeah)
It's official, I survived what I been through
Y'all got drama, "The Saga Continues..."

...and I SLAUGHTERED this beat in 2013.
Shouts to Spud Mack.
Send some prayers up for his father who committed suicide recently.
And shouts to DJH2 on the check-in.
DJs have their/our own language.

This shit is crazy.

Thank you P. Diddy.

~follow the buzzards~

Spin yourself dizzy.

There seems to be an unwritten DJ/producer law about not using UBB (Ultimate Breaks and Beats) and DF (Dusty Fingers).
I get it
These "rare" records have been overused.
But there is a such thing as creativity.
I am a proud owner of both collections, with every single volume (minus four records; technical difficulties).

Sha-leik wants to DJ now.
I don't want to teach him.
I already taught him how to make beats.
I've been scratching since 8th grade.
I just have a very Thelonius (sp.?) Monk technique about it.
When I spun in Cleveland, I shocked the onlookers with what I can do.

I have a VirtualDeck.
It's on TheSuperComputer.
But as of 2014, I've been using M•I•K•E•Y, TheSuperLaptop.
No, Trudi isn't dead.
She's just resting.
And to spin on her requires ...well, everything.

I enjoy DJing.
I just need more gigs.

And I'm very much like 9th, in that I spin out of my own personal collection of self-produced music.


The Egyptian Lover is ill.
Don't get me wrong.
But he can't rock the tombs like me.
He puts them to sleep.

I keep they asses UP!

On that note, back to more record hunting.
I got a little check recently, so I'm going hamburgurlar on finding some gems.

I know what to look for, rookies!

~follow the buzzards~

Falling upward, rising downward.

The beast is a sacrificial lamb.
I am the beast.
I accept no alternative.

~follow the buzzards~

Cybernetik Breakbeats

Are you feeling alone?
Are you lonely?

Well, come along with me...

Are you feeling alone?
Are you lonely?

Well, come on to Hell with me.

Are you feeling alone?
Are you lonely?

Well, you can sing to me!

Because I'm feeling alone and the only thing is...

("Humble Horus' Chorus" from Up To Par)


Don't sleep, Julian Dunn.

~follow the buzzards~

Astrological Estrogen, soothed by CBW (Pete Rock).

Someone is speaking on it.
A GOD(-dess?), no less.
Pete Rock has LONG been an inspiration for me.
It's about time a legend step forward and speak on the negative vibes ("...vibration...") of modern-day hip-hop.


Desiigner (Danjer; [I hope]) didn't actually use 808s.
Not even the claps.
There's dead ass a bass in the beat.
See for yourself.

So ladies, you can twerk ALL DAY to this beat and not feel like your period is coming early.
And with your twerking comes an understanding of just how ILL this song is.

Props to Desiigner.

Look Universe/Galaxy. You're making me want to rap to this beat.
I'm trying to chill.
It's cool to be hot, but it's not to be a fool.


Gangsta rappers, holla at me!!!

~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 23 August 2016

Being a cunt.

He is who you want.
Jack Splash.
This is not snitching.
This is just clarifying something.
Clearly, I'm too PUSSY to be The Devil.
I'm not Jack.
I have too..... WAY too much love in my heart.
But I'm evil.

But where would I be without Mr. Splash?
He brought my self-esteem up in 2009.
He shouted me out in 2012, when NO ONE gave a fuck.
He rapped over one of my beats and BIGGED UP SEGA!!!!!!!!!!

Alas, this is more about who and what he is.

I can neither confirm nor deny the fact he's John Nintendo.
All I know is, he's got beef with Reptilians.
A lovely race of individuals who simply want to exist in nice temperature environments, but always end up in Hell.

So, thank you Jack.
For doing something so despicable, I am unable to talk about it.

But I won't deck you.
I won't even mention this blog to you, if we ever see each other again.
In fact, I'll be so loving, you'll think I'm as fake as those who want to take you down.

Because YOU'RE not being real.
At all.



And Ryan, I might show Jack some Godly love, but I'll FUCK YOU UP!

Let me chill before my uncle reads this and say I'm buggin.
I'm gone.
Bed time.
Drake, get busy.

("Truth be told, after all that's said, niggas still got love for ya!"
-Jay-Z, "Why I Love You")

~follow the buzzards~

The Return of 3rd Eye Magic

I just finished mastering the next 3rd Eye Magic project.
For the reminder sake of tonight's activities, 3rd Eye Magic is me on production and Chris Young the Rapper on bars.
This one is called Alakazam.
Like the Pokemon.
...or the magick trick.
Call-out term.


I haven't even sent it to Chris yet, but I know he's gonna love it.

15 songs.

This one is more aggressive.
I think we both got tired of being delicate.
He chose more assaulting beats.
I gave him more Harlem hooks.

It's a lit experience.

I miss that dude.

I'll only drop a single after he hears the finished product.
I'm thinking of leaving it in alphabetical order, but he has a keen ear as to the flow of the album.
Thus making him this project's executive producer.
I was Abracadabra's.


I miss dude.
Like, a lot.
I wish him well.
Just gotta keep him out of the legal system in NYC.

Fuck you, John Nintendo.

I was TRYING to help you.
Now, die.

And I'll shine in the morning.
And when I'm sleep.

You have no friends now.
I'll just continue to be Hollywood when you come around.

Ask for pictures.
Ask for autographs.
Don't ask me to help you.

If I didn't choose to help you back in (year: censored), I would be much better off.

Now, fuck you.

You know why.

~from 4 to 3, forever-ly~

A new top 5 list.

Charles Hamilton

Honorable mention: Crooked I

I love debates, but knock it off.
There is a truth out there the 5 of us are not shy about sharing.
The truth can be brutal.
Ugly, even.
But we share it.

This truth is carved in my left arm.
If and when I decide to get a tattoo, it will define my right arm.

Until then, SEGA remains embedded in my heart.
I don't want that to change.

Stick with me, beings of existence...

~follow the buzzards~

Flight of The Conchords...

Woody and I were gonna start a production duo.
The ConChords.
Or Conchords.
Something like that.
This was our first beat together.
He figured me out, I have to admit.
As far as being a musician.

Scary to think.

Or, maybe he didn't.
Maybe I'm just paranoid about my music theory leaking out.

Hydrate yourself.

We initially made the beat in Logic.
Then we bounced the stems into ProTools.
Then we REALLY started blacking.

Love you, Woodrow!

~follow the buzzards~

"I know more, no more!"

She's invading...!

~follow the buzzards~

Sunday, 21 August 2016

A few pics from returning home.

 Me, in my new bedroom.

Me, Lisa, and Ava.

I write in my head.

As I cut my facial hair, I noticed the glare of The Sun on my face.

YOU try to carry this backpack. ESPECIALLY through Harlem! (I'm not lol'ing)

Me with Black (Tyrone), heading to the studio.

I'm embracing my inner ogre.
You should too.

~I see the monster in you!~

Two hearts.

Shouts to Adrian Younge.
I hope he would allow me to drop a project sampling him.
He's got some heat.

But the previous 2 videos are all Hamilton.
"New York Raining" being a Hamilton/InvisibleMen collabo.

It's early.
Well, I'm early.

"BUT I LOVE TO LEARN!!!!!!!!!!!"

Take your little ass to Sunday School.

~follow the buzzards~

From 2006.

...and celebrated-ly before Jay-Z's "Kingdom Come" flow.
No jabs.

This was the intro to me and Yung Nate's duo album, "Welcome to the Jungle".
Demev thought Nate's version was better, but EVERYONE ELSE thought my shit was FIRE.

And I'll leave it there.


~follow the buzzards~

Saturday, 20 August 2016


Ladies, I have a new girlfriend.
And we've known each other for a minute.
This isn't to say I don't love you anymore.
I just have to get my priorities together.



~follow the buzzards~


Monica bigged up ATL rappers for going in.
I think I spazzed.
I mean, I made it a song.
Whatever though.

Should I post the lyrics to this?
Let me know!

~follow the buzzards~

Christmas in August lyrics

(verse 1)
I should make you suffer. Every last one of y’all blood suckers. The reason why I cuddle in the covers with the people that I find in the dust. Word. When I dig through the crates, I try to find a beautiful face to move away with, and then say the basics to. You can move away if the basics is what’s raping you. What I say to you is BEYOND the truth. It’s what you gotta face, because it’s true. “But, why is it beyond the truth?” Because I am beyond and I’m on the truth. For Two Weeks, you’ll be looking at me like, “Who’s he?” A new guy. Coming through with a new vibe. Doing what I gotta do, times 2. Because I’m time’s too. Get it? Ooo…

Life is not a holiday.
There’s no time to play.
Life is not a holiday.
Fun things go away.

(verse 2)
Don’t ever get it corrected. My shit is direct and precise. That’s how I know I’m nice. Slicing my wrist, because I know the overdose of my past will have niggas like “I’m bright”. To not try to fight, but to hide inside is my kind of might. Muscular. Mark Henry (Sciryl) when I talk to beats, and people can’t seem to walk with me unless I talk to beats. So often he’s (Sciryl) pissed off, because there’s no beat playing. I be saying the most amazing shit, but the beat’s saying “I ain’t saying shit”. Must be because the beat’s making me cry. Why? Is it safe in my eyes? When it pops, the music continues, and I’ll be the dude in the venue.

Life is not a holiday.
There’s no time to play.
Life is not a holiday.
Fun things go away.

(verse 3)
I just want to be worshipped. Because all things that I find perfect, find me perfect. So, I’m blurting behind the curtains, knowing that my dirt is quite certain that I’m flirting with death and destiny. Now, my bride is squirting next to me, because she knows that I am working fate in a perfect way. So let me see if I indeed am allowed to be as loud and free as freedom is when it’s loud. The MoshPitCypher king. A lot of cats is liking my hyphening. Eddie-Lee in the middle. Name. I will stay in the middle of the game, dashing you lames. As long as I can have an orgasm with my dames, I’ma be rapping the same.

Life is not a holiday.
There’s no time to play.
Life is not a holiday.
Fun things go away.


A Curse lyrics

Dedicated to the troublesome Simone Marshall.

(verse 1)

Your man is short (Shortt). Your man's a bore. Hamilton is far from a snore. In fact, I'm charming. And then some. Minus the income. Republic paid enough, but the public ain't late enough on the sacred stuff that I give 'em. So whenever I'm spittin', they get it and I'm living. Word to my rhythms. Or the River of The Nile. My style is like that when you're diving in it. Try the Olypmic-sized pool of that and try to end up the seismograph of my raps. That's the same try. Same -try as in The Indus-. That bothers me to the end of us. No end of us. But you got a boyfriend. Don't pretend you love him, girl...


I feel bad for your boyfriend.
We both know he is not me.

I wish I was your boyfriend.
Not that "other" carbon copy.

(verse 2)

I didn't mean to let you down when I messed around, but the chick had a sexy gown and her ass was so fat. You were nowhere around. So fair it sounds to me to go down on you (when you come back home), but I had to let you know that I had to bone a bad chick. Her ass was Chrome (Google) and Magic. Smacked her ass and holding it, just imagining it was you... So, I cheated. Therefore, I deserve you to be leaving, and I believe in the reason. The fact that I cannot be a MonogamyTreason kind of guy is the reason why my apology needs to be seated and seen as the bottom line of me speaking, RIGHT NOW. But it's bothering me, because you kinda like my style. And you wish to get down with me. So, it's just a crown for me. And a round.


I feel bad for your boyfriend.
We both know he is not me.

I wish I was your boyfriend.
Not that "other" carbon copy.

(verse 3)

Magick acknowledged. The madness polished. Back to me blacking, and have to be honored. But I'ma be honored by Rihanna when I see her. Because she's ANTI-me, and I believe her. Hi, Gia (and my other niggas in the hood). I figured you would know my shit is good. My flow is intricate, kinda like Suge. Musclebound, though. Bound to the flo-o-r. Like an operating room. So far, "Why you hatin' on this dude?" Blow job. What I get from your boo. Sacred. That's the "what I call it when I pipe in it and lay it." Nigga. What I'm saying is the greatest. Acknowledge it, like the magic I did. Rap to this shit, and have you a sip of the nastiest shit that you could sip. 

That'll be it...

~follow the buzzards~

Back from the barber.

I look good with short hair.
Growing my hair out has long been an experiment.
I feel good with short hair.
Now it's like... keep it up, or try to get wild again?

I think these last 6 years have showed me how far getting wild gets you.

Honestly, the whole purpose of me even recording again after I got out of jail was to show everyone (women included) that you can still create, even in the face of adversity.
Creating is something you're chosen to do.
And all I want to do is create.
I've vented, dissed, made amends, all within the last 4-6 years.

2012, I just went HAM.

Since then...

...well, let me do it like this.

Though I've always had the connections, if it weren't for you two, I wouldn't be back in the game.

We might disagree on the creative aspect, but we both purely have inspiration at the core of what we do.

Got some records I'm gonna chop.
I probably won't release any free music until next year.
I have to get some clarity on this retail situation.

The music business is rigged.
It's like the olympics.
Very little pay (if any) for hard work and material reward.

And admiration that could last a lifetime if you can keep your stamina up.

~follow the buzzards~

Turbans a-go-go.

Today is the last day I'm gonna have long hair for a while.
Though it was a family suggestion, I do like looking refined.
At the same time, I don't require a lot.
So self-maintenance was never hard.
However, my mother would hate to see me with long hair, and I'm not as afrocentric as my fellow long hair havers.

I want to go back to wearing turbans and head wraps, but that's a little TOO left.
At least for right now.
Gotta get some paper.
Then I can go as far left as I want.

Bad news, too.
There's some label politics going on, so it looks like "Hamilton, Charles" (the retail album) might not come out on Republic Records.
I have some choice words for a few people involved, but I don't want that karma.
Having an opinion in this business will easily get you blackballed/black listed.
Thankfully, in my first run, I didn't shit on too many big wigs.

Or at least in a fashion that would lead to resentment.

Politics leads to strange bedfellows, as my mother would say.
I didn't go to bed with any of these niggas.
But we broke bread together.
Celebrated birthdays.
Got drunk.
Went to swimming pools and beaches.

So parting is always sweet sorrow.

And for the record, I have no issue with management.
I think they are some of the most loving people I've ever come across in this business.
I just do better on my own.

Plus, I wish they'd allow me to talk about SEGA.

Lately, it seems like even SEGA wants me to shut the hell up.

I feel like I misguided myself the first time around.
I was kind of a hippie.
I didn't spend like a hippie with money.
But I was very open about my beliefs.
The more I learn about what I believe in, the less I want to share.
But it's imperative that everyone know about and believe in SEGA.

The aliens.
The gods.
The devils.


Of course, there is the existence of Nintendo.
I can't and don't doubt that.
I just don't connect with them as much.
Too much of it is persecutive.

The system and industry of racism is all Nintendo.

Here we go.

The more I talk about what I am forced to believe in (Nintendo), the crazier I sound to family.
And Nintendo pays, while SEGA rewards.

And I need money to live.

I might just pull a Halo and put beat tapes for sale on Bandcamp.

We just have a sample clearance issue.

On the day must go.
Gone my hair must flow.
Give in; don't fight the feeling.
Give in; don't fight the flow.

~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

Sick, Sad Little World

I just rapped my ass off for about 10 minutes with... a celebrity.
Don't want to reveal names.
But it felt good to cypher.
Haven't had a good one in a while.
There's always Sciryl, who's ready to spit at will.
But not everyone can spit with me.

I take pride in that.

I am slowly rebuilding my record collection.
I shouldn't even talk about it.
But I don't do shit to people!

I live in my sick, sad little world and dwell amongst the doomers.

Shouts to all doomers.
I still want to learn your ways.

I have much to learn.

But I'm getting there.

I got a letter today from a fan who suffers from severe depression.
I thought I was the only one.
And I know my music can make you even more depressed.
I'm working on bragging about certain things (*cough* Beyonce *cough*).
But I won't.
I have respect for the goddesses.

I just want to disrespect their throats from time to time.

lol a rare glimpse into the perverted scorpion that is me.

Maybe I'm not the creator.
Maybe Jack is.
All I know is, us 4 put in A LOT of work with creation.

Then I got born.

I should probably stop talking about my past lives.

I'm about to answer this damn #SoGoneChallenge.
I personally love this beat.

Niggas ain't doin' it justice.
I'm gonna really go hamburgaler on it.
Not sure if I spelled it right.


All in a day's work.

~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 16 August 2016

To my dear 6z.

It's not easy to represent you.
I still feel the fear of yesterday.
And recent yesterdays.
I gave you all I theoretically have.
Which is everything.
Fighting takes a lot out of me, and puts me in weird predicaments.
I don't lust after random women.
In fact, I try to find the *you* in them.

My mother was your only block.
Then, it was revealed she may have been one of you.
Then there's doubt.

Then there's the shame of a rebellious mama's boy.

I didn't like following the rules.
But I wasn't a thug.
I was a geek.

A rebellious, talented geek.

I always wanted the freedom to be Gothic.
I wanted to shun the Christian teachings of my childhood.
As well as some other things my childhood bares/bears.

Forgive me for letting myself go (psychically).
I have answers.
I just don't want everyone to have access to them.
Or y'all.
But I guess I have to be willing to let you explore if this is true love.

I just want us back together again.
I'm not doing anything to make you resent me.
In fact, I'm playing your game.

Am I too big of a player to play with you?
I'll stop...

Seems like no one believes I'm a 6.
Sometimes it's hard for me to believe.
I mean, just look at the team!
You got the gory George Massa.
The slick J Dilla.
The untouchable Jack Splash.
And... the open-hearted Charles Hamilton?

Not a match.

Just bear with me.
I'll catch up to your wicked ways.
Just gotta beat the game first.

Industry, be careful how you treat us.
In the long run, we are who you have to answer to.

Might I add, I love my grandmother and my uncle.
They know who I am.
And they support it.

It's just time for me to get my hands dirty.

And I was told I'm too pretty for that.
But to be pretty makes you a target.

I'm used to it by now...

~follow the buzzards~

Fatigue and Fatality

I'll never get tired of making music.
But I damn sure am tired FROM making music.
I still crate dig, still record, but I'm not as enthused as I once was.
Kinda dejected.
Trying to get over the feeling.
Mostly I've been brushing up on my piano and DJing skills.
Both of which require concentration and practice.

I'm glad to see Planet of the Grapes is getting as much love as it is.
People in Harlem are stopping me in the streets about it.
Mad love.
Just gotta watch for the plottin niggas.

They're out here.
They could be hard to spot sometimes.

In the hood, the worst intentions come with smiles.

StH: Cloud. is still being worked on.
It probably won't be released until next year.
Same with Catholic School 6.
Just an overall different angle in my quest to make SEGA the forefront of the universe.

In order to do that, I have to infiltrate Nintendo.
I probably blew my own cover.
But... anything to be free to bow to my 4-letter friend.

If she's still friends with me.

I might live stream soon.
I'll post the video of it on here.
The streaming video.
I'm not a fan of periscope, though I should be.
No shots at the developer.
I just found my nitch with UStream.

Be back on later.
Found a record I have to work on.


~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 12 August 2016

Giving In lyrics

Bliss is so irresistible. I wanna kiss you low. But then I gotta grip your throat and remind you that the sky and below is where I find you. I didn't know that you like the below that I find you in when I'm climbing in, but since I'm the guy to find you in your nightware in my nightmares, I begin. I need to start speaking from the heart. People have departed from me, and I don't know why. Probably 'cause of some old guy. But the old guy floats by, by my side. I ain't even mad at him. I ain't even gonna say the shit was an accident. I'm more mad about my chattin' mouth not having nothing to rap about. So give it to me.

I strive for good, then I'm taken out
of my neighborhood, and given sacred doubt.
I just can't fight the feeling.
I just can't fight the night.

I am my own worse critic, but with every verse it's demented. My critics are critics. CRITTERS. Pardon me niggers, but I ain't tryna sit in the picture while you figure I am not trying to get you to be a digger. I am not Dirk Diggler, but my dick is big enough to hit up a nigga wife and have that bitch asking for the pipe every night, even when I'm not around. So she gotta sit tight and recite her favorite song of mine to keep her mind strong. Because she knows my python goes quite long. I like talkin' 'bout sex. I'm the S-C-O (SEO)-or-pion. Score again. I don't use force, but then, when I do, I force your force to end.

I strive for good, then I'm taken out
of my neighborhood, and given sacred doubt.
I just can't fight the feeling.
I just can't fight the night.

I soak(ed) in pain. Going in the game. Choking niggas names. Knowing what the game is, and aimlessly walking it. Stalking niggas, and then talking for minutes. The minutes that I'm talkin' has them offin' niggas who come in talkin' 'bout puttin niggas in coffins... then again, that kind of shit sells. So I gotta do this shit for myself. Providing for my mother, and that makes me mad. Because I really can't stand her crazy ass. But I love her. How could I not? Probably because she like when I "loud and rock". Am I allowed to rock at my volume without a Valium or a costume? God, soon! Maybe Satan. But that's just the way I'm laying. Come on, now...

I strive for good, then I'm taken out
of my neighborhood, and given sacred doubt.
I just can't fight the feeling.
I just can't fight the night.

Dedicated to the ladies of SEGA. We won't be a mystery for too long. In fact, I think they're on to us...

~follow the buzzards~

Planet of the Grapes

Planet of the Grapes


I was cloned into an alt/rock white boy who can rap and worships me.
Though he worships me, he's marketed to be a better version of me.
I have to prove, with all I've got, that I am a far better musician than him and anyone else set to stand in my way.
And this is the mixtape I do it on.


~follow the buzzards~

Fresh pack.

Another morning in a house.
Drowsy from my own doubt.
"Stop feeling pity for yourself!"
I hear screaming.
Pit bulls barking.
Roaches and rats emerging from an abyss I have yet to visit.

And my right mind says it's best not to.

Masking reality with metaphors is not new.
But it requires bravery when confronted.

I don't want to steer you in the wrong direction.
But I have to be free.
Free to do what freedom will allow me to do.

Profanity and profound are positively related.

Please come back to me, lest I already be in your presence.

No I don't like having conversations, because I am trying to silence the naysayers with my words.
Both on here and in music.

Though blogging is poetry when placed here.

Me, DJing.
Bowery Poetry Club

8:30 PM
308 Bowery
New York, NY 10012

It's actually a dope place to go hang out at, anyway.

~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 9 August 2016

Debating releases

Harlem is anxiously awaiting the release of Planet of the Grapes.
May I remind y'all that I'm the same strange case that idolizes all of you.
If my swag exists, it would be Harlem.
But I'm still in love with Cleveland.
And LA wants my love.

This is difficult.

Until my mainstream release, I have to be wise about what I release and when I release it.
But it's all worth it.

I could drop it tonight.
I could drop it tomorrow night.
I just want to have it out before the 9/11 dj set.
And definitely before the mainstream release.

C'mon, Republic...

~follow the buzzards~

Warrant Report lyrics

(verse 1)

Living so official now! My... my whole family say I'm gettin' down! I'm living out of the censorship that I give to my gout! I kick it out...! I kick it to the rhythm while I'm living out the instumental's doubt. The shit WISHING to doubt, as if a nigga didn't have the spittin' clout! 

Have you figured out yet (9th) that I have a way to climb inside of thy doubt? Which could end your last name, but it'll be a hit anyway. So don't hit me. If you feel a bit of disrespect, it's just a musical hickey! 

All I want is you, girl.
Even when I'm 
in the mood, girl.
All I want is you girl.
You could end the world that is the New World Order.

(verse 2)

Yes, I've gotten quite precise while I listen to beats. Not just from 9th. But I've been going insane. Flowing from the brain to show the membrane of the soul that I'm giving it insanity. Instantly, and with family. Which could be a strike. I listen to the mic, and the mic is silver (Silver), so I'm killing myself at night. Hope you feel me, unless my grandmother's grimey and trying to get behind me. Or under me. Or underneath. 

And she's who I love the most. 

I'm not a wannabe.

Pardon the lisp, but that's it. Nigga gotta go in. Talk that magic shit. Family love is magic, and love is a force. And love I support.

All I want is you, girl.
Even when I'm 
in the mood, girl.
All I want is you girl.
You could end the world that is the New World Order.

Planet of the Grapes, coming soon.

~follow the buzzards~

Pop in Poppin Harlem

No shots.
Jay-Z is old.

But his voice is IMMACULATE!

I can only hope to draw you in with my voice the way he does.

But I'm proud of my voice.
I remember when I tried to add extra bass to it.
Then I got really nasal.
Then I was hiding secrets and things (The Pink Lavalamp).

Ultimately, I stopped giving a fuck.
But my bars never slipped.

Every so often, I take a break from production and just BLACK on beats.
I have a healthy rate of making music.
One album and one mixtape a month.
This keeps away certain jitters of overexposure and doubt.

I'm up late, I'm hungry, and "I got me some Bathing Apes!"

Good morning.
Good night.

~follow the buzzards~

Sunday, 7 August 2016

"Thick Lips..." of me!!!


Last night was pretty eventful.
I freestyles with a live band.
I've done it before, but in recent years I've been regulated to my laptop.
It felt good to jam with a band.

I wish they had a keyboard, though.

Now people, I know I said I love trap music now, but that's only because of its roots in the music of J Dilla.

Black people, if you want Black Music back, you have to do two things.
Actually, three.

Find your soul.
Use your mind.
Be creative.

You can bypass creativity if you use the first two.
But in doing so, you have to have a strong spirit.

I just taught you how to be Chris Brown.

To be Chris Young, it's gonna cost you.

New music coming soon.

~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 5 August 2016

Posting lyrics...

I still do plan to post the lyrics to my post-2012 music.
It's just about finding the right songs to detail.
They're all so strong, ya know?

Still very excited about my 9/11/2016 dj set.
I need to start booking more gigs.
It's a trip finding underground spots for my music.
Everywhere is so Nintendo.

My uncle says not to get distracted by the dynamics between SEGA and Nintendo.
At the same time, it's everywhere.
But I understand him.
It can consume one's time.

It's best I keep my two cents to myself.
I've already been letting myself go.
Why don't I try to level with the powers that be?

Simple answer:
I'm one of them.

~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 3 August 2016

Chronicles of a Primitive Mixtape

I recorded a new mixtape last night.
It's called Planet of the Grapes.
Grape is the name of a possibly real emcee.
I see him when I imagine someone better, after I give all I got to the mic.
He's white.
In fact, he looks like Woody.
But he's got soul.
It's kinda bad how much soul this white boy has.

He would be an alternative rock version of Drake.
Sings his hooks like me.
Worships me in his bars.

But is a competitor.

And I imagine the entire world agreeing with everything he says.

To the point of worshipping him.

Like they do Drake.

But he swears he's not an enemy.

There is something I'm missing in my life.
And Grape has it.
And in my eyes, so does the rest of the world.

But Grape is Pop.

So I challenge any and all Grapes to be creative with production that is not trap.
When and if you get to me and my production, you will lose all control and never be the same again.

After I recorded this pop-ly underground mixtape, I started looking up some instrumentals.
Turns out, I found a new favorite producer.
He's like Kan Kick and Oh No, with a slight ME (smiley!) influence.

He's not trying to be like Dilla, but he uses an MPC.
He's not trying to be like 9th, but he chops.
And his chops are beastly.

Check him out.

I don't want to share him with the world (which is a sign; ask Dilla), but I feel great talent should be rewarded with recognition.

Planet of the Grapes is coming soon.
The first single is on my Facebook page.
And on my SoundCloud.

Search for me on both.

It's an early morning, I haven't slept (yet), and I got some records to find.

~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 2 August 2016

For the record (about C. Young)

I still have love for him.
I just don't want him to not be down for me.

"We've got so far to go..."

Much love, Young.
Just had to get the residual hate out of my system.
I think you're great.


~follow the buzzards~

Used To.

I used to be aggressively blunt, as once said in XXL.
I used to be fun loving.
I used to always want to fight.
I used to hate Jay-Z.
I used to be jealous of Drake.

At one point, I held a lot of resentment toward Jimmy Iovine.

Just had to get those things off my chest.


I'm not aggressively blunt anymore, because this new crop of artists present themselves to be confrontational.
If I say trap rappers are unsophisticated and ignorant, I run the risk of a problem.

I mean, fuck 'em, but still.
I have more than just myself to worry about.

But although the father of trap (in my eyes) is J Dilla (see Donuts), I feel like trap doesn't require too much talent.
Or wisdom.

I can enjoy having fun, but since 2013, I've sacrificed my willingness to have fun and happiness for music.
Such doesn't make music a job or a chore, but it does make it difficult to resonate with people.
Including family.

At least family respects the craft.

I'm small.
And I've been bullied.
So confrotation(s) aren't my forte.
But I am a 6, and I represent them.
And the others are KNOWN for fuckin niggas up.
It's a conflict whenever I see or experience someone trying to get the best of me.
I love Chris Young, but I can't help feeling used.

I used to hate Jay because I felt he was misleading the youth.
Drug sales and wealth talk led inner city kids to make poor decisions.
His ability to get people to rally behind him shouldn't be taken lightly.
And when you have a story like Jay, you should be willing to share your experiences AND inspire.
Not enable young, misguided Black teens to be criminals.
Once I learned more about his story, I started to appreciate his story more.
I just hope it's not too late for the rest of the world to understand him.

But, at the same time, I want to be understood.
I hate myself for being a rape victim.
Granted I was young, but I didn't know what to do.
I was scared.
And I have ties with some powerful people, so I thought I would lose my spot.

To quote Jean Grae, "Every man's touch is a doozy."

I don't like gay people, because the pain I felt is far from something I would consider pleasure.
I'm mad awkward around women.
My touch and demeanor might be too soft for them.

I hate being soft.
Which is why I wanted to fight all the time.
Or, want to fight all the time.

Drake and I came out in the mainstream around the same time.
I went more underground, he went pop.
But I had so many people behind me with pop expectations.
And he was rubbing his success in the face of everyone out at the time.
I wouldn't do the same thing anyway, but I felt his blanket statements on rappers were aimed at me.
So I sent him some subliminal jabs.

He might have responded.

Nowadays, the cool thing is to diss Drake.
Ironically, when I sent my latest jab, Joe Budden when on the assault.

I'm not like the other niggas that diss you, Drake.
You should know why I get at you.
In fact, such is the reason a lot of people get at you.

But love is love.
I'm going to approach my conversations about you as though you actually got love for Mr. Hamilton.

I have reason to believe you do.

Alas, Jimmy.
I thought we had established a bond.
That's why I thought him dropping me was fucked up.
I know more now, but still.
We vibes and talked, outside of the office.
It just seemed like he had a brighter plan for me.
I don't hate him, but I still feel embarrassed at the notion of him discarding me for reasons no one is certain of.

If you let certain A&Rs tell it, I was wylin out.
But I wasn't.
I was just in a volatile heterosexual relationship with a celebrity's daughter-in-law.

Do you guys hate straight love that much?

I should be over it all, by now.
But it's a part of my everyday life.
So, I can't avoid it.

But there is still and always SEGA.

"McNast IS the shit!"
-J Dilla

~follow the buzzards~