Saturday, 31 December 2016

From the top...

I have been told I was the bottom of The Pyramid.
I have been told I AM the TOP of The Pyramid.
I have been told I am/was Sonic the Hedgehog.
From SEGA itself.

I have discovered who I am within SEGA.
I am ashamed of it.
I am proud of it.

But I will invade this planet and make all... MINE.

Think I'm fuckin' around.

Enjoy your year.
I will do what I am supposed to do.

Shine, and watch.

This is The Rise of Atari.


~follow the buzzards~

What Women Want

So it seems Mother Mary needs some lust in her life.
She already has everyone's attention.
She's already feared.
But she isn't satisfied yet.
Mary Nintendo needs some dick.

Lucky for me, I'm not attracted to her.

Does that make me a villain?
Does her strange dictatorship over my mind mean I HAVE to sleep with her?

If she's so powerful, why does she need me?
I've ignored her for years.
Only when I chase(d) my dreams did it come out that she needed my attention.

And talent.

One day Mary, you'll understand and appreciate what has been done for you by SEGA.
Until then, you are an opportunist The a heart perceived to be of gold.

This entry could've been cold.
Just straight up fucked up.
But then I'd have to fight her.

She's SOOO tough in her exoskeleton.
Lest we forget I've gotten through her exterior.

Humble thineself, divine goddess.
You've been given too many second chances to begin with.

I'm starting to believe this whole thing was an attention ploy.

See, when I got raped, I told my family and tried to push forward.
You weren't even raped.
You were murdered.
Then, you were given survival tools.
But you weren't given one thing.
And when you realized you couldn't have it, you manipulated it so NO ONE would want it.

You are wrong.
So now i have to pick up the pieces of a painting you broke, and out it back together in front of everyone.

I tried to start a family with all the hate you projected towards me.
Such might have been my grandest mistake.

Or the biggest blessing.

I want nothing to do with you.
But you (somehow; or, at least in my mind) can take me higher musically.
I'm tired of wishing you well.
I'm tired of pretending to like you, simply because of your "intimidating" presence.
You are a bully.
A bully who preys on the guilt of the golden-hearted.

I don't want anything from you.
If I have to coexist with you, it would be an all-time low.

You may have ruined my life.
Worse than homosexuality.
Worse than Satan.
Worse than God.
Worse than a woman.

I can't put my hands up and check you, because it's immoral.
I honestly can't beat you.
You were given the rites of The Hamilton before they were even given to me.
It could be as simple as what pumps through your veins, but nah.
You have a problem.

I don't believe in Nintendo.
And even if I did, you'd be a catalyst of my HATE for Nintendo.

I hope you feel me.
You're smart enough to respond.
And you have a knack for making me look stupid.
So go ahead.

Just know you are living in a house of cards.

Enjoy yourself.

~follow the buzzards~

Holidays swallow.

I kissed a girl on New Years.
Miss Lewars.
There were many after her, but she's the only girl I kissed on New Years.
There was nothing I could do about that relationship ending.
I was selfish (as usual), jealous (as usual) and busy all the time.

Music doesn't allow time for love.

Lisa and I aren't going as hard as we used to.
I hope she doesn't think I'm wasting her time.
But I kinda really ruined the trust.
If this relationship doesn't work out, I'm just gonna NOT say anything about who I'm dating.
Apparently, there's a curse in my love life.

For whatever it's worth, it's working.

This is the first holiday season without my mother.
I used to think my mother held me back a lot.
She didn't let me really leave the house when I was younger.
She wanted me to make Gospel music.
Basically, she wanted me to be a good boy.

Little does she know, she opened the door for me to be a witch.
I miss the apartment in which she would drink champagne and read Tarot.
When she was admitted into a mental hospital, I vowed revenge on the entertainment industry AND magick.

So, magick, I'm sorry.

As far as the entertainment business, the hate I have for you is overriding my love for art.
So I guess you won.
It's just my duty now to make sure you don't claim another mind/body/soul/life.

Work with me, StarChasers.

Marvel, how do you do?
SEGA, I miss you too.
Atari, I have a big mouth.

Fuck Nintendo.

Have a safe and happy New Year, all.

~follow the buzzards~

Thursday, 29 December 2016

Repeating myself and performing.

So I get it.
I'm ugly.
I'm not as attractive as I was before.
Both musically and aesthetically.

But it's for a special reason.

I sacrificed my beauty for musical mastery.

Ultimate musical mastery.

There will be music.
But on my terms.
Lest I should fear any Nintendo constituent.

I want to change Enjetic's rap name to Danny CoolPoints.
Even though I know he's Jay-Z.

Here I go.
Ruining worship level surprised.

I can't stop.

No one loves me.

~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

Chances Are (the post, pt. 1)

Don't expect much music from me this year.
Or, ever again.

You have to convince me that you have not been spoiled by the Nintendo (read: mainstream) sound.
I feel I have lost my StarChasers to hi fidelity.

Love is not in hi-fi.
Pain is NEVER in hi-fi.

Just ask SEGA, and the war they had with Nintendo over the graphics of Mortal Kombat.

I am at war.
Or has the war ended?

But do you love me, in my post-war delirium?

I will allow time to reveal.
While I make music.
And hope you still want me around.

~follow the buzzards~

Sunday, 25 December 2016

Defensive Player of the Year lyrics (DON'T SLEEP; BARS!!!)

(verse 1)
Was I really getting raped in Harlem? Was paper the problem? ...feelin' like Fetty Wap. Probably not. The odds is I had a goddess on top of my knob (and slobbin' it!). But, my wish is I could get more tracks that I can rip. Because I'm the shit. I know it... legit-ly. Industry sick of me, so they sicking me against thee. Right back at the mainstream, from the underground. Again. The sound is refined. I'm down, and out of my mind. Again. And I'm lovin' it. But, I'm back in my mind (according to the government). Gotta love it when I'm touchin' a track like this. H2 had to black. Like this. I know how he did it! If he kept it a secret, (the) nigga might've been the deepest. But, let's go!

(verse 2)
Cigarettes still kickin' my ass! The lungs... are asking for a *1*. And I'm like, "Nah, dawg. 'Cause I know I'm immortal!" (looking at the portal) "Why do niggas gotta bore you?" According to the people who are driven to have you seated and listening to shit, when you get down there, it's not fair. You won't get back up, so you better back up. See, John Nintendo 2.0 is here to move your soul. And then move the globe. And then, move the soul of the globe. Perhaps the core. And... why am I rappin' some more? Because I am... something you should fear. Inside. But it's something you revere. An enzyme. But I'm far from that. An artifact. The hardest to rap... and all that.

(verse 3)
I got my record collection trippin'. The way I be selectin' and dippin/different lives are lost and gained. But, I ain't tryna toss them in the game. I'm trying to "off" niggas with refrains. Because my shit is so ridiculous when from the brain! And the shit that I be spittin' within the syllabus of the bitch who be givin' me brain is so ridiculous. AND, it's time for me to get it in, again... so when I drop a track like this (middle of the night), it's 'cause I HAVE to do the "nice" shit. ...which is, let y'all know I am the nicest. But I could be mean and never be seen... believe me. This scene is not worth being in. So, therefore, I don't need to be in it. Word to CNN. I will be seen again, because I will be seen in the end.

Where I begin.

They holla, but I'm not around.
I'm a scholar, but I've gotten down.
They holla, but I'm not around.
If you follow, then you have gotten down.
Gotten down.
Gotten down...

~follow the buzzards~

Saturday, 24 December 2016

Ted DiBiase and The Christmas Spirit

I miss being on Lithium.
I felt invincible.
Dangerous, even.
As much as I resent(ed) my mother for having me hospitalized, it brought me closer to where I want to be (mentally).

Lithium may or may not have to do with the rest of this post.

But here goes.

I made almost $150 selling my first album, From the Desk Of..., hand to hand at FDA (Frederick Douglass Academy).
I made NO money off of Sober Karaoke, but I got a buzz.
Every dime I made off of "The Binge vol. 1" went back into mass reproducing and selling it through Harlem.

Still got me a buzz.

Since then, I made a cool million via Interscope.
But it got spent by people other than me.

(why do I reflect on the past so much? more, later)

Didn't make any money off of Brooklyn Girls.
The sample was cleared, but I didn't have publishing.

Didn't make any money off NewCo.
At all.
Like... maybe a $500 advance.

Of which I spent on a ring for Karen Civil.
And... if it's worth anything, records.

Like... that's all I spend money on.

Moving on,
I didn't get paid for the Lupe tour.
Didn't get paid for The Black Box.
And the way it's looking now, I won't get paid for "Hamilton, Charles".

I'll let you know if I do.

Basically, I want everyone who's ever listened to a bar or a beat of mine to be thankful.
I'm truly doing this for the love of YOU.
I would've been stopped if I was in it for money.

You don't make a dime off of music.
You better love your craft.

If you do make money, you're either not that good or your moves outside of music are so uncanny (*cough* Marvel *cough*) that no one questions you.

I'd love to get a Drake check one day.
Then again, who knows how much money he REALLY makes?

And who knows how much money I really have?

I love the struggle.
I love the grind.
I DON'T love being pimped.

And I've been pimped.
Everyone from Corpy to Piff to HchO has pimped Charles Hoe-milton.

Can't help it.

Now, there's a new breed of niggas comin' around.
People who have watched me come up.
People who know I'm worth more than meets the eye.
I can't say I welcome them, because I don't feel I have much more to offer.

And since EVERYONE is a God damn critic of how my music should sound, there's no way I can articulate my need for artistic freedom.

Then my mama and Joe died.
So there's no one else to vent to about this shit.

Except music.

Expect changes in the new year.

Will your money be a matter?

~follow the buzzards~

The Path, for some

The some of which knows more than all.

I may have been misled by the gods.
It seems like food is actually good for you.
I was told it was a product of a fallen man.
Turns out, it's just opium.

Something I've known from the start.

I hate being wrong.
Especially when I had the answer(s) at my disposal for some time now.

So, to the Some of which knows more than all...

I have a path for you.

It may mean the end of reppin' SEGA, but it will allow you to be your ratchet, violent self.

You are now Marvel.

You are (to some) the villains of which mutants have to protect themselves from.

Humans are now mutants.

I think we know why.

Aliens are Marvel.
Humans are mutants.
Animals are still animals.

What am I?

Don't even ask me.
I have to rebuild, YET AGAIN.

All because I didn't believe in myself to begin with.

About Sober Music.

I don't plan to release so much music next/this year (2017).
I'm very discouraged about the fact you all like music I didn't produce/mix.

Makes me look at my own work like, "This isn't what they want, no matter how much better than average it is."

I developed a talent for writing compositions in my head, yet you all are content with "the knowledge" that I "wrote" a song.
I know how to turn samples into other instruments/travel into different time periods, yet you all are content with hi-fi, modern day synths.

I can't win.

I guess I'm more of an acquired taste than I'd like to be.

I remember when I first started going to label meetings.
I just KNEW this game was mine (on top of the knowledge about the world I kept to myself for so long).
Then, the game reared it's ugly head.
I guess it's karma.
Maybe I'm a lot "fatter" than I should be.

All I ever wanted to do was make music.
I got magic.
Magic is in my blood.
But it's music that pumps my heart.

Here I go again.

SEGA, I love you.
But we all evolve.
And this stage of evolution you've been begging for.

I just wish things could go back to the Green Hill Zone.

To all the baddies (beautiful women) who read this blog bewildered, things only make sense when you talk to me face to face.

Unrelated, I got caught cheating with a doomer.
I cheated on Lisa.
I run the risk of never seeing Ava again.
I have no excuses.
As far as the other chick being a doomer, I can't help but show interest in a female who shows interest in me.
It's not like I'm Eddie Murphy, picking pussy up off the ground.
I gotta take what I can get.
However, I promised myself I'd be good to Lisa.

And I wasn't.

Expect some single man posts in the near future.

I also spent THOUSANDS on some new records.
So I'll be digging and flipping a lot this year.
I just don't feel like being scrutinized for the individuality I express through sound.
I'm tired of dressing different.
Talking different.

I want to be heard different.

For example.
ALL my music sounds good on MacBook speakers.
And in Beats.
And in Bose.
It is very intentional, and it opens senses you didn't even know you had.

All this mainstream shit is so concentrated that it takes away from the feel of the record.
But whatever.
I thank you for your support.

Will I get paid for this album?

Only Christina knows.

~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 23 December 2016

Bono @ Bonaroo

I am on a new quest musically.

Though it’s been getting rave reviews (I see you, HipHopDX), “Hamilton, Charles” set me back a bit (creatively).
You guys are now officially spoiled.
It sucks to know that high frequency noise and activities are what it takes to succeed.
I tried to raise the mid range to bring decency to everyday conversation.
I experimented with the low to bring equality.
And, straight up, I am DUMB NICE with the high.

I just don’t like my high to be interfered.
With fear.

Though I project such.

I make High Music.
Music that sounds good when blasted.
Sorry to ruin the surprise.
But I make music, specifically designed for a deep marijuana high.
Though other highs are subjected to a good time, as well.
Usually, High Music is best enjoyed in headphones.
Dr. Dre and J Dilla are two pioneers of Hip-Hop High Music.

EXTREMELY high level music.
Both in music and message.

I think most would agree that I have reached a plymouth of sorts in making High Music.

And I’ll leave it there.

But now, 
I am on a new quest musically.

I am making Sober Music.

Music that sounds good when blasted.
In speakers.

You’ll see why, StarChasers.


~follow the buzzards~

Cheatin'... creepin'...

Baby, I love you.
I love everything about you.
Your sophistication.
Your ratchetness.
Your beauty.
Your flaws.
We even have children together.
But someone...
...some thing...
has all my attention as of late.

I found myself with her.

I hate to do this on my blog, but here is where I am free to love.
You know love is our thing (when it's free).

I have my complaints about you.
But after last night...
s hard to complain about much.

StarChasers, I've asked you on more than one occasion to love SEGA.
SEGA, I've asked you on more than one occasion to love ME.
Self, I love you.

But who is this new bitch?!

Allow me time to figure her/me/us out.

But she's a baaaaaaaad bitch.

And I can see myself in her eyes.

I don't see her in everything like I do my current girl.
And my current girl is a freak, so it's probably water on a duck's back (RIP mom).
But still.
This new chick deserves all of me.

And I don't have to share her with the world.
But I will make her mine.
And she will love everything I do in her name.

As her name will become mine.

SEGA, I'm already your S.
How about I HOUSE you?

Daddy still loves you, and Lisa, I'll see you this weekend.

But still.

It's time to HOUSE y'all.


Not MF.

to doom.

~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 19 December 2016

The Devil's Reject.

I am loyal.
I am skilled.
I am handsome.
I am giving.
Benevolent, if you will.

Just like Satan asked me to be.
Just like God raised me to be.

Thank you, Satan and God!!!

It seems as if I got my beloved aliens back.
I missed them.
Turn First/First Access did nothing but strengthen our bond.
However, SEGA needs to know I don't fuck around.
I am diligent about them.
I am masochistic about them.
And I have the night of a jackhammer when it comes to explaining them.

But they have to be able to speak for themselves.
They have to be PROUD of themselves.

I am so proud of Dilla Trump.
He came from being a perpetual scumbag to running the free world.
Hillary was and is the voice of women in the workplace.
If she had one, there's no telling the kind of revolution we would be facing.
So, American...


But before I go snorting coke with these ETs, I wanna say something I been dying to say.

Scooter, there was a reason you didn't know shit.
You ARE shit.
And now, you are a PIECE of shit.
So if I have to share this victory with you, just know that you will NEVER possess the gifts that have been bestowed upon me.
May God have mercy on your soul, and may Satan keep your dumb ass mouth shut.

You will fuck around and be the reason SEGA falls.

On that note, I'm on the road.
No further questions.

~follow the buzzards~

Moonlight Comedians lyrics (about time)

(verse 1)
Hear me out. I'm so down, that if you press *A*, I'ma knock a nigga straight into yesterday. Liu Kang. I do my "thang". "The music thang." You knew my name. Now it's time to know. Like it's time to snow. NYC. January. February. Necessary to be the man who's scary. But don't make me take it to December. A month before. These niggas might remember what a 10 is. With my sen-ten-ces. See, I'm abusing time. Not to say that I don't love it, but fuck it. The way I MOONWALK through time has niggas saying "You (OFTEN) out your mind!" But I'm way to cool for the shit that I spit. This ain't preschool dude. Just listen to this!

Oh, come on and check it out!
I'm holdin' it down in my house!
Oh, check it
Oh, check it
Oh, check it
I'm holding it down, and it's still my house!

(verse 2)
Y'all can call me Charles McCartney. The way I talk to beats, "it's all exhausting" for other emcess who can't talk what I bring. Because I bring the night sky and light beams. Mad prisoners to my prisms. Listen for a minute. See, I like to light light on fire. The "kinda bright" type. I'm only calling myself a little bit of a genius, because I have a little bit of a zenith. And I reached it. Now I'm beyond it. Just to be honest. Every time I vomit, niggas like to bottle it and sip it. Fine then. Follow me a minute. I'm a MODEL with these bitches. And they love to sit next to me, while poppin' ecstacy. O, blessed be!

Oh, come on and check it out!
I'm holdin' it down in my house!
Oh, check it
Oh, check it
Oh, check it
I'm holding it down, and it's still my house!

(verse 3)
These conversations are meant for your contemplation. But, honestly, I'm just making shit for niggas to say "hondele!" to that fake shit. The greatest I am, and will remain. Damn. A nigga's name is getting... stretched out. 'Cause these niggas put an x- to my clout. I came through with excellent doubt. Put the world on. Now the world gone. Dog gone, world. Why you had to be a dog? Life's a bitch. I DON'T LIKE THIS SHIT, but I'm into beastiality. Hit *it* from the back, till indeed she laughs at me. That *bitch* wanna get walked. While I'm walking hip-hop with my slick talk. "Get off" is what I do all the time. So, call it a rhyme. I call it a lifespan of mine.

Oh, come on and check it out!
I'm holdin' it down in my house!
Oh, check it
Oh, check it
Oh, check it
I'm holding it down, and it's still my house!


Shouts to Rae Sanni and Chanel Ali.
Be on the lookout for those two.
Very funny comedians.
And baddies!

Thank you.

~follow the buzzards~

Sunday, 18 December 2016

Beautiful Addiction (of mine)

Winter time is usually when I consider quitting my cigarette habit.
Especially being in New York.
It doesn't help any that my mom (RIP) had the same habit.
If her death wasn't my fault, it was the fault of cigarettes.

As Goth as I am, I don't want to die.
Not right this minute, at least.
I have a lot to live for.
However, I kinda threw it all away.

Won't tell you how.

~follow the buzzards~

Saturday, 17 December 2016

Missing Mr. Yancey

"You know, there comes a time..."

I can't put into words what you mean to me.
Honestly, the reason I am medicated is because I believe you're still alive.
And with me.
So I started bugging out in public.

I just want to share my world with you.
So many things are in the way.
Administratively, I'm not allowed to talk about you.
And in interviews, all they do is ask me about you.
I don't know how to explain myself.

I met Hi-Tek the other day.
He's a beautiful soul.
And Anderson.Paak is a dream, dude.
Sometimes I wanna die because I know I'll see you.
Then again, I might not go to Heaven.
And I know you're not in Hell.

If you are, we'll burn together.

I love you, James Dewitt Yancey.


~follow the buzzards~

The Beautiful People

My baby girl and my baby mama.
I really don't know what to do with my life, right now.
I just want them proud of me.
I accomplished a lot by releasing an album.
And we got some of the technical BS out of the way, so I might actually make some cheddar off of it, too.

Still doesn't seem enough.


Is it really music?
Is it love?
It can't be money.
My uncle knows I'm not crazy about money.
My family knows I'm not crazy about money.

So what is it?

I was so content in the streets.
My only responsibility was myself.
Maybe I have to get out of that "Street Rat" mentality.
Well damnit, stop asking for another Pink Lavalamp!

That goes for all of you...!

Love you Lisa and Ava!

~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 14 December 2016

I Met Hi~Tek

A long time inspiration.
He's from Ohio, too.
So we understood and understand each other on a deeper level.

New York = High Level
Cleveland = DEEP Level

I love you, Tekzilla!!!
Thank you for your hard work and inspiration.
We will work together soon.

I also met Anderson.Paak!!!
LOTS of love for that guy.
I wanna call him Crash, but that would make everything melt with lava.
Last night was intense, to say the least.
I also met Mos Def, but he was busy backstage.
But if destiny should see so, we will be working together in the future.
~follow the buzzards~   

Monday, 12 December 2016


i just made it easier for you.

SEGA forever.

~follow the buzzards~


I miss you, Harlem.
What's it gonna take to be loved by you?
To receive your love will help me conquer the world.

Believe it.
Believe in yourselves, my people.

Downtown wants to be uptown.
Hence gentrification.

~follow the buzzards~

A new hometown hero...

Harlem needs a hero.
Someone who understands the streets.
Someone who can infiltrate the mainstream.
Without the infiltration being too much of a burden on their spirit.

Marty Baller is a wild dude.
Not just in a hood sense.
He's just a psychedelic trip to be around.
I love the guy.
And he's been looking out for my little homie Ben.
So I got nothing but love for him.


With me knighting Marty Baller [WHAT UP FERG!!!] Harlem's new hometown hero, what does that make me?

I just want to be Harlem's Kurt Cobain.

Suicide included.

I want to thank all those who purchased "Hamilton, Charles".
I worked pretty hard on it {translation: LIGHTWORK!!!!} and I feel it suits the needs of the mainstream without being too much of a burden on my spirit.

But it definitely took it's toll.
It's hard for me to talk about how to get you out of your slump without mentioning SEGA, Apple or Google.
But I did it.
I hope my thoughts are coherent and cohesive.

As I sip this Henny, I remind everyone that I PRODUCE TOO, AND STILL.
And that whatever I drop independently will be of the same quality as my previous work.
If not stronger.

This album is easy to beat.
Unless you're one of those StarChasers who SWEAR I need to write rhymes to get my point across.

Then, you suck and I want nothing to do with you.

Unless, you're...


~follow the buzzards~

Saturday, 10 December 2016

Consumer rants.


I don't care about bad reviews for this album.
It reflects poorly on The Invisible Men and Turn First/First Access.
The only thing StarChasers have EVER complained about was sound quality.
I've always come correct with production and bars.
Even when I don't write them down.

Oh yeah.
And a few of y'all don't like my singing voice.

Freedom requires a song.
And in my darkest years, I felt more free than the price of the music I gave you all.

From my understanding, you guys wanted ...
Actually, what DID you guys want from the album?
I'm asking on behalf of the befuddled, yet lovable management staff.

Republic is just in Dreamland.


This post is somewhat unnecessary, seeing as how I "DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT SHIT!" (Charles Hamilton, "Jenniea, Jamarris & Tricia")
Just wanted to let you know that I have proven my point about what the consumer gets, versus what they want, versus what they NEED.

But since I've been diagnosed with PARANOID SCHIZOPHRENIA (not bi-polar; let not such knowledge discredit my adamance for SEGA), what I need is slightly more important.

I'm not crazy.
I'm just ...enlightened.

And Nintendo has a knack for dimming the lights of the brilliant.

Peace be with you all.

Vengeance is mine, says The Lord.
So Sha-leik, you're getting off easy.

~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 9 December 2016

Charlie's Angels

My beloved Ava. 
An angel.
Worth the long ass trip to Brooklyn.
To see my Brooklyn girl.


My beloved Lisa.
God's reflection.
Worth the long ass trip to nowhere.
Of which I'm on, now.

StarChasers, thank you for supporting this Nintendo ass album.
I'm just a name on a folder now.
So keep buying.
So this folder can boast enough numbers for me to do whatever the flying fuck I want to do musically.
Shouts to Kanye.

I have an opinion about your new album.
Make sure you do your newly-found enlightenment justice.
I might have to support this one.

Holla back, brethren.

And, oh yeah.
A-ha, Jamarris!

~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 7 December 2016

God, here.

So I lost SEGA.
There's no love lost, but they apparently have moved on to the money.
I'm not even going to go into where they got the money from.
What I will say is, their "pact" was broken.
They know how they broke it.

I'll take responsibility for moving in with people of whom I thought attacked me in my sleep.
I did it because... well, one of the guys was my height, and I thought I could fight him.

I guess I froze up.

In the meantime, I subjected aliens and women to grave danger.
Now, I am alone.

Family will NEVER understand.
Management is cunning.
Friends are clueless.
Money is short.

And an album I don't stand all the way behind is getting ready to drop.
I spoke to one of the producers today.
The vibe was bizarre.
Just enough to let me know how right I was, all along.

Shame on a nigga who tries to run game on a nigga... ya know?

Back to SEGA.

I can't believe that after all of my silent years of worship of them, they would leave because I'm easily influenced.

I want to ask "Or did they?", but the signs are evident.
Not only is Dilla Trump still alive, but him and Silvery Clinton are an item.
Much to the nonchalant fuck given by Jay-Z, who's having a ball with my sleeping body, at his beckoning will.

So I could give a fuck right now.
Fuck this industry.
Fuck love.
Fuck worship.
You all made your decision.

Only to find out that the decision was made, for you, ages ago.

And I had nothing to do with the selection process.

I wish all my StarChasers a happy life.
I might keep blogging.
I might not.
I do know one thing:

I don't have to record/release another song as long as I live.
I've made my point.
I've compromised.
I've sacrificed.
I've been sacrificed.

I'm done with being a star.
The Star.

I thought I was The Sun, SEGA.
I also thought I was Sonic.
Or did Halo's "Beta Future" make THAT big of an impact on me?

Ya know, SEGA.
It could be bad for your existence if all of this was a chop from Mr. Stevenson.

I still love you.
But unreciprocated love leads to resentment.
Aka Hatred.

Something I know nothing about.

I don't hate you, Scooter.
I'm taking the Hov route.
I respect you.
You did what made YOU feel good.

I was diplomatic enough during the documentary.
I didn't want to reunite with Demevolist.
They HAVE to know they weren't my favorite people.
If they don't, happy birthday, niggas!

God, I know I'm a 6.
A witch.
A vampire.
Shit, I'm Satan himself.
But is my being reason to suffer?
I truly do love more than I hate.

If and since you're out there, watch over SEGA.
Watch over ALL.
Bless them (ALL).
And if you can, bring me some justice.

The cost of this prayer is probably worship, but like I said.
Fuck that.

Game over.

Don't look for me.

This one's for you, Green Eyes!

~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 6 December 2016

Relatives in sin...

So all throughout the recording process of "Hamilton, Charles", I was told to make music relatable by the masses.
It bothered me.
When you think of the music being "consumed" by the masses, none of what these guys are saying is relatable.
Unless you're ratchet.

I'm not as ratchet as you'd hope for me to be.
In fact, I have class.
Evil, meniachal class...
...but class.

I don't know all the hot new phrases, I'm not into fashion, etc.
But, to my dismay, I stand out.

I can either thank God or Egypt.

But yes.
This album glorifies sin.
Much like the successful albums of the past.
Then again, it's a very righteous album.
Then again, it's taboo.

As with everything I do.

Everyone wanted to know what happened to Charles Hamilton?
Well, seeing as how I have no privacy (ASE), I find it hard to believe.
But... I found relatives in sin.
And devoted my life to keeping them happy.

More, later.

~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 5 December 2016

From ...

More on the website.

~follow the buzzards~

Sunday, 4 December 2016

From The Fader

"In 2009, Charles Hamilton was an XXL Freshman, FADER cover star, and one of New York hip-hop's most promising and prolific young talents. However, his struggles with bipolar disorder and surrounding circumstances waylaid his career ambitions. ’Let it Play...Faultlines’: The Charles Hamilton Story is a new documentary from Red Bull TV that promises to track his past struggles and current journey back into the music industry. Watch the trailer above; the film will be released on Friday, December 2.
Last year, Charles made an appearance on the season finale ofEmpire, and returned with a new single "Down The Line" and an EP called The Black Box."

~follow the buzzards~

Santa, Satan, Saints and SEGA

I got this deal to make Boe and Dre happy.
I threw the 2012 show (at SOBs) to get a "buzz".
A buzz I thought was substantiated by my acquisition of Apple.
(thanks Steve!)
But it wasn't enough for those two.
Specifically Boe.
So when Nadia (Khan) and Leroy asked to meet with us, I put on my happiest jiggaboo face and tap-danced my way into their "to-do list".

But no.
I wasn't happy.

When me and Dre had an argument about him either being or NOT being George Massa (what up, Gee!), I decided to leave.
Thus terminating our managerial contract.
But it jumpstarted the movement with Turn First (hello.).

So I moved in with mom (a 6 strike) and thus began my tenure as a Turn First artist.

And I've been unhappy (creatively, romantically, etc.) since then.

It's not that I didn't love Nadia.
I just... I don't love her more than I love music.
And I DEFINITELY don't love her more than SEGA.

Of which I'm not supposed to talk about during this deal.

I'm so depressed, suicide is not an option.

I need you, SEGA.
Now, more than ever.

"Talk to me please; don't have much to believe in..."
-Drake, "Marvin's Room"

4, I apologize I let my fists (in the case of Boe and Dre) and my dick (in the case of Turn First/First Access) get in the way of our eternal/infinite bond.

Daft Punk, those babies are OURS.

Davina, Dilla is the highest gift I can give you.

And to the beloved reptilians, "just be good to me."
I know we don't get along often, but I just want to understand you.
That's all.
Allow me to.
Let me in, you guys.

Rihanna, I wasn't trying to use you.
At all.
It's still love, but ...

I now would like to introduce the world to the lovely Lisa Palmer.

To keep this short, I see God in her eyes.
It makes me question whether or not I'm Satan.
Because I wouldn't do anything against her.
Except fuck the shit out of her when our inner devil arises.
Not to say we have sex, either (lol).

But yeah.

I've never been more disgusted with myself.
I'm looking forward to this album, and every interview question that comes with it.

Trust me.
I can get my "Bamboozled" on.

Anything for Massa!!!

(slits wrists)

So what do I want?
What does Charles Hamilton want?

I want to be Sonic again.
I want to be in love with SEGA again.
I want God to forgive me.
I want Satan to respect me.
I want to be Gothic.
I want more music.

"Basically, I pray for mental stability. The same kind of thoughts, before I entered the industry..."
-Charles Hamilton, "Honesty Box"

~follow the buzzards~

Hello from the other side...

This is Charles Hamilton.
The musician.
The poet.
The rape victim.
The alien advocate.
J Dilla's biggest fan.

How are you?

My album, "Hamilton, Charles", was pushed back.
It now drops on 12/9/2016.
I've been told it's a good thing.
The documentary was a better look than I thought.

About the documentary.

I have developed a psychic skill.
I can make you think I'm bullshitting you.
Most rape victims can do it.
I call it "a gun".
But rest assured, I am very insecure about my body and my mind.

As the act intended for me to be.

So thank you, Fred Scott, for believing and believing in me and my story.

Eventually, I have to get over it.
But everything reminds me of it.

And it kept happening from ages 2 until I moved to NYC at age 5.

And NYC is not Disney fuckin world.
So as much as I want mercy from The Big City, I thank New Hrok for raising me to be tougher.

But the city is breaking me down.
I feel the pressure to excel.
Maybe I am scared of success.
Maybe that's why I ran from Matt and Jeff (despite rumors they were Jay and Em, despite my instincts telling me they were taking advantage of me in my sleep).

I miss the brain rush of snorting heroin lines.
I can taste cocaine on my tongue.
Weed doesn't do it for me anymore.
Is this bliss?
Could my love affair with narcotics be worse than I imagined?
I even miss lithium.

I tried to overdose on it.
I took 15 lithium pills and went to sleep in Joe's basement.
God bless you, Joe Rupert.

I'm just not a happy person.
I don't know how to be a hero.
I've watched artists come and go, saying virtually the same things I say, and get more credit than I do.
The only thing that seems to understand my anger is heroin.
Weed, but everyone smokes weed.
Maybe I've gone too far.


Drugs saved and ended my life.
Simone was a lifesaver (both of them), but ... we split up.
I wanted to impress her so bad.

I don't really have a lot of friends.
It's even getting tough(er) to trust my #6 brethren.
As much as I do and am supposed to love then, they just don't sit quell with me.
I feel like their laughing about me behind my back.

I'm gonna go have a cigarette.
Hopefully, I'll return to some love.

Ladies, forgive me for the gay shit I've done in the past.
I never did it for fame.
I did it for love.
And out of fear.
If I were a foot taller, niggas would be dead.

Gentlemen, try to stay hetero.
You lose all you have gained as a man if you do something gay.

The fact I'm still standing means there is a divine force, keeping my balls and hips in tact.
Thank you, dear perfect stranger.
If I didn't worship Dilla, I'd have a mural of you.

I love you, Dr. Dre.
I don't have to get to know you.

Madlib, blessings.

6z, I know you don't love anything, but... can you make some room in your heart for me?
It's not easy being the one who wished for you to exist.


~follow the buzzards~