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~



My heart will go on...

I haven't felt a lot of love in New York.
Bullies, bourjois bad bitches and snakey corporate folk kept me on my toes and away from people.
I love my family, and I could leave it there, but I feel incomplete.
It's not about Scooter anymore.
There was a point in my life when I was over it, and my GothicSwag carried me from day to day.
Then I got in the industry, and everything became a trigger.

I'm working on not being so sensitive.
However, it's not me causing my paranoia.

It must be a NY thing.
New Yorkers think they know me better than I know myself.
And they MIGHT.

I'm just not comfortable here.
My thoughts are slower than the speed of the city, though just as epic as our fallen Towers.

I didn't want to say anything NOW.
I was gonna wait until I had pictures to go along with it.
But here it is.

I found my brother.
Marcus.

And he is back home in Cleveland.

I still have to talk to my uncle about it, but I might be leaving NYC sooner than later.

To be with my brother.

I shouldn't have to pause that.

My heart beats with innocence when I talk to him.
I don't worry about my career or public image with him.
He knows what I've been through.
Both at the hands of family and in the business.

I love my brother.
BLOOD brother.

This could be the awakening I need.
You might not get any more free music from me, but know that I will be making music.

And now, I have the only audience I've ever wanted.

Hey StarChasers.
Can you keep a secret?

I still love Scooter, no matter what he did to me.
I forgive him.
Forgetting is the hardest part.
I see him everywhere!
I can smell him.
I hear his voice.
He's permanently in my mind.
I didn't like him growing up.
He was a bully.
But he used to always call me Little Man, and would mock the kind of authority I would "dish out".

I think Scooter was preparing me for worship.
Or, just New York.

I'll miss this city.
Then again, maybe I won't.
Maybe the migration I made here at age 5 was forced on me.
My mother asked if I wanted to move here, and to make her happy, I said yes.

I'm afraid of New York.

ALL you niggas is hard.

I just wanted to put a little love into the city.
Hence the *curse* I put on it in "Loser".

You'll find it.










~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 19 May 2017

Sir Spits on the M-I-C!!!


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Keep killin' 'em, Georgie!!!

Not much to say.
Don't sleep on this man's mic skills.

That didn't come out right.

Whatever.

I'll be around.






~follow the buzzards~

Continuing the elevation...


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All you new cats have to take a listen.
There would be NO Biggie without Craig Mack.
Biggie is in the top 3 of all time.

But Craig Mack is a beast!

Take a listen.

NY knows what this is.

Holla back.









~follow the buzzards~

IBM


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Granted 50 was more aggressive in his interview.
But both are Intelligent Black Men.
The biggest threat to the right wing.
Black Men must read and educate themselves to their inner wealth.

Or be lost to the European agenda.

All I can say, for now.

Hold your head, Jack.
You're locked down!









~follow the buzzards~

I see you.

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You represented SEGA before Sonic.
Before me.
And you did it well.
You explored Egypt.
Conquered Europe.
Romanced Latin culture.
Asian-ized modern America.

MAJOR respect.

You were always one of my favorite artists.
Whether you know it or not.
I want to exceed you.
Not be better.
Just take SEGA to heights unseen.

I'd like to do it with you.
You know, take SEGA to heights unseen.

Not "do it" with you.

Dig?

Stay in touch.
You know how to find me.

And ...this time, MAKE YOUR INTENTIONS CLEAR!!!

I'm not a bad guy.
I'm just ...a devil.

A Devil.

I will define myself.

My other Devils, I love you.
Do what you must.
Do what thou wilt.

I need y'all.
I don't want to lean on you.
I want to enhance you.






Betha, we gotta talk.



















~follow the buzzards~

Thursday, 18 May 2017

New StarChaserArt.



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The above is the work of Albert Hayes.
He's been listening since The Pink Lavalamp.
Great work, dude.

I'll be posting more StarChaserArt in the future.

This is just the beginning.













~follow the buzzards~

When a Diamond breaks...

Paranoid schizophrenia, also called schizophrenia, paranoid type, is a sub-type of schizophrenia as defined in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, DSM-IV code 295.30.[1] It has been the most common type of schizophrenia.[2][3] Schizophrenia is defined as “a chronic mental disorder in which a person loses touch with reality (psychosis)."[4] Schizophrenia is divided into subtypes based on the “predominant symptomatology at the time of evaluation."[5] The clinical picture is dominated by relatively stable and often persecutory delusions that are usually accompanied by hallucinations, particularly of the auditory variety (hearing voices), and perceptual disturbances. These symptoms can have a huge effect on functioning and can negatively affect quality of life. Paranoid schizophrenia is a lifelong disease, but with proper treatment, a person with the illness can attain a higher quality of life.
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I lost a dear friend recently.
Not to death.
But to me.
And my mental condition.

I wish her well.
But I wonder.
Who else did I push away by allowing my triggers (and weed) to get the best of me?

Then again, I ...
See?
Here we are.
I know I'm supposed to keep my mouth shut.

But I can't.

And I try.

It's pressure.
Definitely pressure.
I have to deal with pressure better.
Telling all your business doesn't mean you're being honest.

So expect an EVEN MORE silent and reserved Charles Hamilton.

I'm making the transition from Bohemian Musician to Gothic ...well, Musician.

And let the record reflect, I was always a Hippie.










Thank you, Disco Lady.




















~follow the buzzards~

Pendulums and hour glasses.


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So I'm surrounded by people I assume have the worst intentions for my life.
And family.
Either I can get you a check (of some sort) or I represent a "machine" you want to see destroyed.

All I tried to do was awaken minds to the existence of SEGA.
Since then, I've been diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia.
So you have no reason to believe in me.
At all.

I don't care who rules the world anymore.
If it's me, Jay, Rupert, Bill (Gates), whoever.
It doesn't matter to me anymore.
All that matters is music excellence.

The above song is an EXCELLENT record.
And today, we lost a catalyst in rock music.
Chris Cornell.

I don't really believe he passed, but whatever.
The media and Internet have been confusing me from a young age.

Obviously I'm on my own.
Can't trust the females I make/made love to.
No dudes can be trusted, in or out of family.

I can only count on me.

Just like before.

The Socratic Doomer
July 17th, 2017

Then, do you.


















~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 16 May 2017

Before the wrapture.

From birth until around 2009, I believed I was going to leave Earth with the aliens (SEGA).
At first I thought it was going to be Y2K.
Then 12/21/2012.

Now, I'm not so sure.

Involving myself with evil corporations may have tarnished the image SEGA has of me.
Then again, ...actually, nah.
Right there.
Then, there's these "super stellar" humans who want alien attention.
And they get it through me.

I want to leave.
Like, now.
But I feel a weight holding me back.
Holding me down.
It could be gravity.
But something wants me to think and feel more Earthly.
Humanly.
Could it be the medication?
Could aliens, not only NOT know who I am, but if they do, have changed their mind(s) about me?

If everything goes right, I'll be more loyal than I am now to SEGA.
But if something goes wrong, the fault either goes to me or Jack.

That simple.




I'll be around...










~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 15 May 2017

All praises dueWith all due respect

Flying Lotus makes music.
And is very talented.
And is one of my major/main influences.

Let that man get some shine!!!

Now, ?uestlove, I was sleeping on you.
I am thoroughly devoted to Jaylib.
So I might deserve your animosity.
But I meant no harm.

You just caught Low End Theory off guard (that night).












(hours after the start of this post, as spent with DJ Kebra...)











I love music.




















~follow the buzzards ~

Sunday, 14 May 2017

Machiq.

I hereby announce myself as the founder of Machiq.
Charles Hamilton's hybrid of White (Euro) and Black (Afro) Magick.

I am now happy.
I can define what I do.

Yes, there are rituals.
Yes, there are things you can buy.
But at the end of it all, a pure subconscious and pure imagination take you a lot further than faith alone.
Pure imagination brings you to The Truth.
However, there is a difference between imagining and lying.
And there is a difference between pure imagination and purely imagining.

Acknowledge Machiq.











~follow the buzzards~

Mama's Son Of A Gun (RIP Talise) official lyrics



(verse 1)
See, I love it when she calls me daddy! It makes up for all the acne that I had to pop, and the pain from my mama and daddy. See, my daddy abused my mama. I was used to the drama. But my mama had me, basically to be happy. She needed the happiness that a child could provide to not be wild. Runnin' the industry as a journalist. Burnin' niggas when they would say, "They should go away with their brand new baby boy!". Lenny Wilkens know. I'm The King of Cleveland. The Fatman. No scoop, though. So dope. No computer though. I don't need to move so slow. Oh!


(hook)
I don't want to be stuck in the past.
'Cause I'm mama's son of a gun.
I don't want my cousin stuck in my ass.
'Cause I'm mama's son of a gun.
I just want to lay down in the grass
Like Mama's (son of a) Gun.
And I wish that my mama could last,
but I'm mama's son of a gun.

(verse 2)
Shouts to The Tribe! Shouts to the very fact I rhyme, and I cry when I rhyme. One. You are so beautiful to me. One. Can you be the Two to  go to We? The beautiful sight of us was enough to ignite the night. But One. I Fell in love with the lady that fellas dug only when She controls them. People know when she controls them. We should go in. Each time I feel so weak, you go in to my soul and drive me insane. I complain, but why should I? I cannot lie. Your beauty resides in my eyes. And the eye contact and erupt the stars. Can't nobody fuck with Charles!


(hook)
I don't want to be stuck in the past.
'Cause I'm mama's son of a gun.
I don't want my cousin stuck in my ass.
'Cause I'm mama's son of a gun.
I just want to lay down in the grass
Like Mama's (son of a) Gun.
And I wish that my mama could last,
but I'm mama's son of a gun.

(verse 3)
I look up to the lust you have for me. I trust you, but actually... if I "Just Do..." like Nike, they're gonna be past me with every athlete. These stars that I find are not retards. They're in my mind. They keep me guarded and retarded, but I'm not Weebok-in'. Not a baby when I'm steppin on the the block. Kinda crazy, and I'm sweapon is a glock. And the glock is my mind. And I pop it all the time. And A LOT of people shine when they say I gotta pop for 9. I'm "kind of" a popular guy. Ridin' on top of the mic. PAUSE. Just to sound like them guys who get a matter of your time.

I love you mama.

(hook)
I don't want to be stuck in the past.
'Cause I'm mama's son of a gun.
I don't want my cousin stuck in my ass.
'Cause I'm mama's son of a gun.
I just want to lay down in the grass
Like Mama's (son of a) Gun.
And I wish that my mama could last,
but I'm mama's son of a gun.

(Charles Stanley with the ministry)




















~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 12 May 2017

Preparing to Battle Mr. West

This has been a long time coming.
But, there are rumors in the air that say I have to get ready for a mic-to-mic face-off with Kanye West.
I'm not making this up.
Though I don't think he can beat me, he's got GLOBAL MOMENTUM.
He's liable to say things to make everyone laugh at me.

I don't mind.
I'm used to it by now.

I just really want to DECK him.
But I have class.

Then again, you have to consider the source with these kinds of things.
I'm sure he's not worried about me.
He's working on his video game themed album (ahem), raising his kids, and being a Kardashian.
If he acknowledges me, I won.

The same way he wins by me acknowledging him.

I somewhat accept the challenge.
It'll be a clean battle.

If it goes down, I want 9th to be the DJ.





Back later.








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Say it ain't so, Mr. West!!!







~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 9 May 2017

Approval Rating 1 0 1 official lyrics


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(verse 1)
As much as I focus, you gotta know my LOVE is my focus. And I'm falling in love with my love and... it's hopeless. I can't break up with her, even if she put me on notice. Here's a Lotus kiss. A Flowerbomb like Mike and Wale. That's... Miguel, as far as y'all say. I'm not tryna disrespect what broads say, I'm just saying "Hold on!" every day. Because I'm on the -phone, and I'm on the John when I'm on the -phone, so if you get across the lake, that basically means you're not a mistake. Falling in love should be a Frosted Flake. And I've got the milk. It's called, "Not touching Silk... unless you're me." I've been with the luxuries and other shit of people messing with me. So I'm trying to feel something EXTRA sweet. That means kissing on Heaven's teeth. Come get with me.

(hook)
Are you over me?
Don't touch me there.
Because it's too old for me.
YOU TOUCHED ME THERE!
You over me.
Let me touch you *there*.
And I'll just breathe...
until it's time to take it's toll...

(verse 2)
I'm all alone on a road made of gold. Like what I was told about NYC so many ages ago. So with the ancient-est flow, am I allowed to grow up and be gangsta like foes? Because they're all young, and they're who gets exposed whenever they let loose their tongue. So, let me be useful to some and heavy to others. Being a petty motherfucker. If I had the hands, I'd settle motherfuckers. But, I know the law of the land, so SETTLE motherfucker(s). Give up. Your guilt's in your rhymes. And niggas don't realize that rhymes (all the time) are their lines from their mind. It's like it's all scripted. I'm on my grind, and I'm ballistic. Like... bullets. Like I'm full of the shit to get my Pulitzer or a bullet in my dome...

(hook)
Are you over me?
Don't touch me there.
Because it's too old for me.
YOU TOUCHED ME THERE!
You over me.
Let me touch you *there*.
And I'll just breathe...
until it's time to take it's toll...

(verse 3)
What could I go to sleep with, in my mind? I don't listen to The Weeknd (in my mind). As a matter of fact, I'm off the deep end (in my mind). So please, ma. Come unwind. I could be talking to my mother or on the pimp grind of having chicks listening to my shit ten times, times the 10 times of The Time of the Ten when I was Mr. Then Again. Yo. I showed up on your screen. Like an Apple. Niggas wanna grapple like I'm tryna buy The Big Apple. No. I'm tryna live my life. Make my brother proud. Make my mother proud. And spread the lud (loud) around. Spread the love around. Aw man. Turn the fucking glove around. Damn. The new MiJack, but in my backpack is something you gotta climax at!

(hook)
Are you over me?
Don't touch me there.
Because it's too old for me.
YOU TOUCHED ME THERE!
You over me.
Let me touch you *there*.
And I'll just breathe...
until it's time to take it's toll...

















Hit me up if you want a breakdown.
But this is pretty clear.
I'll be around.













~follow the buzzards~

Two Step With A Kickstand official lyrics (WHAT UP, H2!!!)


^
^
^
CHxH2!
Uptown Daft for dat ass!

Yeah.

Hold up.
Let me get my shit together REAL QUICK!
I can do this shit forever, REAL SHIT!

I'm a Wallflower. Like Matchbox 20. But that's in the '90s, and that's not funny. So when I go to parties, I hardly am sippin' on Bacardi to get a bad chick to come and... guard me. I mean, get off on me. "Don't get off me!" [Only if you're on me, watching me at the party.] Hardly can I do a hardy-har joke to make you say, "Charles is all smoke; and not liquor." The pot's with a big dipper. Meaning, it's STAR high. All time of the night, hard drives get bent... when I come through with 6 sense. And sentences. My bad, kid. Just rappin' with the sake of magick in the back of my cap. Ash Ketchem. I got mad bars. You besta catch them!

(hook)
I only got a dollar to my name, girl.
So dance for me
baby.
I said dance for me
baby.
Yeah.
Dance for me.
Baby.

To the fellas: there's no need to get jealous or overzealous. I just represent what's better. And I'm better than veterans when representing what's better, because *that's* what's up for ever. *That's* S-E-G-A! PLEASE don't pull the lever. Unless you tryna play pinball with Charles. My favorite game? Sonic Spinball (inside). To be honest, I got them lost. And they all coming back to me now. It's kinda like The Faculty in the background. Schooling mad cats on how to rap. Wow. And I don't even have rap in my background. So Goth. So real. So "true". So Charles. And this beat? So H2. So Josh. I go off. These niggas is so posh. Uptown Daft. Y'all gotta laugh.

(hook)
I only got a dollar to my name, girl.
So dance for me
baby.
I said dance for me
baby.
Yeah.
Dance for me.
Baby.








~follow the buzzards~

"When you tired of ya man, give me a call!"


^
^
^
Shouts to my LA Underground folk(z).
I might be out there soon.
I gotta get up with this cat.
Samiyam isn't the most familiar name.
But me and Halo have talked about him.
Whereas I was always aware of Dilla, H2 put me onto the likes of Hudson Mohawke and DiBiase.

I took my time before I got into Samiyam.
I heard a lot about him while I was in Cali (2008).
I think he's incredible.

Consider yourself put on.

Samiyam, if you're reading this, let's work!














~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 8 May 2017

Doomonogamy official lyrics (and an attempt at a breakdown of my multi-layered 2012 music)


^
^
^
(verse 1)
Got a girl out in Jersey. She going to Toronto. Call my girl from Chicago. She comin (cumming) pronto. Meanwhile, I'm sitting here like "I know. This is fucked up and I prayed for them both but... who got those condo-ms? 'Cause I go in and I don't win, unless I go in and I go "Hmmmmmmmm." (That's an H with mad extra Ms) When I just explode and refuse to let go of emotions of which I let know are... truly there. But... do you care? Or rather, do I care when you *walk off* like the snare? Shit. You walk off and the air of me being a deceiver walks behind you. And you walk behind *it*, saying, "I dare you to try to be grimey to the one who finds you to be cute!" Holy shit. I know it's wrong. I know I need to quit.

But no.
Shit.
I can't be faithful.

I can't be faithful.

(verse 2)
I'm like every last Drake hook. I like every last broad on my Facebook. Scroll down on my Droid. Asking every broad to go down on your boy. Let go of your draws (get it?)... but now, to deploy my missle. Every girl I ever messed with, I really miss you. Get your tissue. Instrumental, take a breath. Because they take my breath away and refuse to rest. Shake what's left of me when I nutted inside while hittin' it from behind. The recipe for your inner intuition. You understand, but then you listen. Then, you don't understand. So, pretend to listen. Or, just ignore me in this orgy within my heart. And then, I start to pretend as if I was always your friend.

Shit.
I can't be faithful.

Not at all.
Can't be faithful.

(hook)
Making you cry
is how I die.
Making you cry
is how I die.
Making you cry
is how I die.
Making you cry
is how I die.
But I can't lie
I like to die.
But I can't lie
I like to die.
But I can't lie
I like to die.
But I can't lie
I like to...

Making you cry
is how I die.
Making you cry
is how I die.
Making you cry
is how I die.
Making you cry
is how I die.
But I can't lie
I like to die.
But I can't lie
I like to die.
But I can't lie
I like to die.
But I can't lie
I like to...

#
#
#
#

For those keeping score, in 2012 I risked EVERYTHING and moved into places where I wasn't sure if I was loved or in DOOM.
With TheSuperComputer as my surveillance camera.
And with the potential of ALL SEGA MEMBERS WATCHING ME from invisible posts.
Christina was supposedly J Dilla, which would've made her Sha-leik (a potential Egyptian threat).
To cheat/mistreat was my only vindication.
And besides... I couldn't really tell if she loved me.
Beyonce (George Massa) played/plays the role of The Tooth Fairy, creeping in and (censored) while I'm sleeping.
Jack is either in DOOM or playing an elaborate prank, of which can make this whole situation blow over.

Or piss me off.

The opening line is about Christina.
She said she was from Jersey when we met.
Then she subconsciously said she was J Dilla.

Maybe people don't know what they're saying subconsciously...

Regardless.

We had just started dating, and she took a trip to Toronto.
I immediately thought she was "trying to find Drake" and was using metaphors to get over on me.
So, I called a StarChaser from Chicago (The City of Jack Splash) to keep me company while my girl/nemesis/idol/best friend was away.

However, due to my Illuminati ties, she could've been Jack herself, being *driven* by Silver.

Thus making it possible to "kill two birds with one stone".

I felt guilty, but if I had succeeded, it would've brought 4 closer together and made my experience in this Harlem apartment more Hamilton-like.

Gloomy, but groovy.

Everything else is self-defined.

I hope you enjoy/enjoyed the record.
Holla at me, @SEGA!!!









~follow the buzzards~

Must Not official lyrics


^
^
^
(verse 1)
I said, "You could be my baby mama as long as you ain't gon' be my DOOM". Then she had to leave the room. Me (the groom) is so upset at the fact the wet cat got me in a setback. Forget it, though! Ready to go I am, always. All days, I'm playing in all stages. All are amazing to me, so the "awe" isn't as "amazing" as what YOU about to see. Flow is so prophecy. Prophet-stated. A word I came up with. So "amazing". Blazing to Dre instrumentals. Hey, it's a day, and it's simple. "Which day?" Hit the PA like Pennsylvania if THE day isn't in your mind. Kill 'em with the rhyme(s). My mission till I'm finished with time.

(hook)
You got me going through this bullshit.
You must not love me.
This SpiritualSupernatural bullshit.
You must not love me.
I don't want to call it bullshit,
(you must not love me)
but that's my gun and you're the bullet.
You must... not...

(verse 2)
Now, she keep(s) lying to me. Probably to keep me intrigued. How deep is that? I know how deep the cat gets, but you don't understand. I am the depth of the *axis* (inside). No accidents. You're just wet, and that attracts the kid. So don't get upset. I love this beat, and you could bet (that) the flow is coming from me. It's UFO. So deep the prose is. You know this. That's why I gotta keep you focused. Biblically, I'm looking for the locusts. Lyrically, I'm trying to be the dopest. So it's time for me to go in. Each Dre track I get, I break the bass. And then it's back to the day in the Maybach. "Which day?" I'ma lay back and let you pick it. Hey!

(hook)
You got me going through this bullshit.
You must not love me.
This SpiritualSupernatural bullshit.
You must not love me.
I don't want to call it bullshit,
(you must not love me)
but that's my gun and you're the bullet.
You must... not...

(verse 3)
I turned enemies to friends, as if friendship wasn't the way we began (Yung Nate). I made a friend to an enemy, then we friends again (Halo). Quick to have run in the past, but I ain't gonna run from the fact I learned from both of them. And, sometimes, I'm choking when I think about provoking them into a fight (but only on the mic when I go in). So if the old friend kicks a flow and it's the dopest, I guess niggas know to give it notice. But don't ignore the kid who is the dopest... (looks at George Massa) pardon me. The illest. (The) heart of me is.... in this shit. I just finished it. The East Coast Snoop on a Dre beat. Basically, "Don't take me away, please!"

(hook)
You got me going through this bullshit.
You must not love me.
This SpiritualSupernatural bullshit.
You must not love me.
I don't want to call it bullshit,
(you must not love me)
but that's my gun and you're the bullet.
You must... not...




I had to talk to the spirits right quick. See, the thing is... I can rap forever. 16 really isn't enough. Guess you'll understand when you're standing beside me, you know?

If you'll be there, I'll see ya there!









~follow the buzzards~

"Survive the drought; I wish you well..."

In case you haven't noticed, I've been less public with my music lately.
Well, it's because once again everyone is doing and saying the same stuff.
And I'm not inspired.
And a few "legends" are dropping mixtape a and projects this year, so I want them to feel proud as a peacock before I say another word.

Since it's the legends and veterans who have it out for me.

It's cool, though.

I've been doing a lot of reading, following my prescriptions and simply taking notes on the game and the people around me.

When you know what to read, it makes reading so much more enjoyable.

I have been instilling what I read into my music.
My literature knows I'm not wrong.
But those listening for the first time since "Brooklyn Gorls" would probably think I lost a step.

Funny how one song can categorize you in this business.

But yeah.
Have you missed the ramblings of a paranoid schizophrenic?
The bipolar poet?

This summer will be very telling.

I'll be around.









~follow the buzzards~




(This post is full of hints; and magick)

Sunday, 7 May 2017

Humble.

My conceit comes from my musical ability.
But since I don't want to lose my musical ability to karma (or any other intervening factor), I choose/chose to be humble.

Even in dissing niggas.

It's ironic that the niggas I want to diss only further prove the point I would use by being ignorant and existential.
But that goes back to the Fear Factor post.

I don't believe the "champions" of hip-hop are as awesome as history made them out to be.
My two champions are J Dilla and Madlib.

They have made history.

But there is so much controversy that comes from naming them that, for one's wellbeing, it's best not to mention them.
Damn.
When can the forefathers of modern alternative hip-hop get public notoriety?

People come to me all the time saying I should diss Chance the Rapper or Childish Gambino.
I mean, the battle would be amazing, but without J Dilla and Madlib, there'd be no then OR me.

So I stay silent.
A pacifictic rebel.
Black people (African Americans) have established a monarchy within the democratic republic we live in.
There once was a war between Jay-Z and Nas for the title of King.

Then came me.

Then came Drake.

Then Future.

So, yeah.

Our kingdom is in jeopardy.
As long as we rally behind violence amongst ourselves, we will never be able to see the world at large.
Violence and abuse have become the stereotype of African-Americans.
And when other people reinact our worst behaviors, we're entertained.
And those in a monarchal position reward such.

Glorify Aliens.



I'm out.













~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 5 May 2017

Fear Factor, live...

So we're clear that I am against rape and bullying.
Correct?
And we're also clear on the fact that my only and biggest fear is being raped again.
Well, whether or not it's happening to me or anyone else in my life, I have to FAIRLY sustain a living here on planet Earth.

As much as the existence of aliens is behind my success, I cannot rely on them.
They were my only audience, but I never separated my audience from my close friends.

And, I'm Charles Hamilton.
Let that count for something in your life.

Because it doesn't count in mine.

I have decided to stay with Universal until 2020.

I initially signed to Interscope in 2008, and was set to be on the roster until 2012.
At that moment, I knew there was a chance I wouldn't be worshipped.
I had to make the greatest music ever, to at least be mentioned in a worship level discussion.

You know, the kind(a) of discussions you privately have about Drake.
Of whom wasn't a factor when I was talking to Jimmy.

Basically, I feel that in order to survive, I had to sacrifice Egyptian wealth.
And the potential to own it all.

So now, I am one of you.

With the blessing of being a musician.

However.

Do understand the pain of being a true musician.
I understand the piano.
Maybe I've said too much.

(looks back at life)

I was trying to teach a lesson about life, through my own.
Assuming my life was under a scientifically proven microscope.

And his name is ?uestlove.




You are loved, J Dilla.








There will be more.

“Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” 
-Romans 12:19








I acknowledge the power of magick.





~follow the buzzards~

Thursday, 4 May 2017

The Llama and The Loser


^
^
^
George Massa has been everything to me since... well, since forever, but specifically since late 2011.
I have the feeling he's hiding his little devilish side from me.
It's cute.
Like... bad cute.

George Massa is bad, ladies.

Alas, he's taken.

I might be, but I'm not as bad as George.
I'm not as good as George, either.

I got ETHERED on this joint.
But I think that's my whole MO.
Just get ETHERED and make you laugh about how badly I got ethered.

By ethering myself.

Because, unlike most (and much to the dismay of some), I don't talk shit in my music.
If it's gonna be something, pennies on the curb witcho bitch ass.

(cash me ousside; how bout dat?)

Questlove shut me up, tho.
George was there.
And it was all in the name of J Dilla.

As Daft Punk hovered above us.

With Shadow being nowhere to be found.

#LosAngeles

Check out the above record, bite the wordplay of Massa and join me as I honor the gods/goddesses.

And Bey, it's not that I don't like it, I just want you to BOMBADIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




(hint: it might be WAY too much for me to handle; I'm a virgin!!!)



Love.














~follow the buzzards~

Pharaoh x CH in studio...


^
^
^
^
^
^
Another artist I'm proud to say I worked with.
He's definitely a divine cat (Pharaoh).
We were having some INTENSE dialogue during this session.
I'm glad the video caught our interaction.

I have a LOT of questions still.
But once again, I'm glad the interaction between me and Pharov got documented.

AND NIGGAS SEE ME IN MY NASH, RIGHT?!
DON'T FRONT ON MY JERSEY GAME!
I MIGHT HAVE TO SHUT HARLEM DOWN WITH MY AI JERSEY TODAY!!!







Scream at the mime.


















~follow the buzzards~

If She's Simone (an actual song title)


^
^
^
^
^
^
This video scares the shit out of me.
For a few reasons.
I'm very trusting.
And I'm valuable.
So if some bad bitch invites me to her house for drinks, it might be a wrap for me.

But nah.

I wouldn't trust that bitch as far as I could throw her.

Such is the unfortunate demise/catapulting into superstardom of VS Diamond.

She's too pretty to rap.

Now, I love Nicki Minaj.
But she's no longer the Around the Way girl I fell in love with.
She's a fucking Barbie.
I'd probably cum on myself when I see her in person.
And yes, I'd love to do a song with her (Minaj).

But VS Diamond is the future of female Hip-Hop.
She is the BEST female wordsmith I have heard since Sa Roc and Invincible.
I'm not a flow enthusiast, but I can hear her flow being bitten by young females who want to rap.

And she's unrivaled with her beauty.

I met her through a Ruff Ryders affiliate.
She doesn't know how close she is to signing with them (SURPRISE, DEE!!!)
But she would make Eve very proud.

She's also on "Please Listen To My Memo 2: Poisonous Post-Its"!!!



^
^
^
^
This song right here, to kill your suspense.

Diamond, you've been a bearer of light for me since I met you.
Thank you for not believing I'm crazy.
You're in my prayers, and I believe in you as much as you believe in me.

Just know that you're so pretty you're deadly.
And if in the presence of the wrong people, you will be a tool/catalyst for doom.
Which would blacken your heart.
And weaken your spirit.

Then again, your mind would be like mine!
Then we'd be twins!





Blessings to you, beloved!
Hopefully this is the start of big things for you.







~follow the buzzards~







(oh yeah... and "If she's Simone, then all my love goes to her...")

Wednesday, 3 May 2017

Just because I'm bad.



Here's a new pic.
No filter.
No photoshop.
Just pure EgyptianAlienSexiness.

If you believe in that kind of thing.

I'll be around.













~follow the buzzards~

For the further marketing of Charles Hamilton (me).

I am dead.
I died by the hands of jealous, big name rappers.
And jealous hood niggas.
I am only ressurected by the music of J Dilla, Madlib and Jack Splash.

SPECIFICALLY.

So my music reflects each of their legacy.
With a hint of Dr. Dre.
Which basically means musicianship.

But I am dead.
So seeing me is a happy day.
No matter how dreary it is.

^
^
^
This is a pic taken right around the time I disappeared in 2016.
Before the release of "Hamilton, Charles".
I vanished because I wasn't comfortable with anything.
Very much various pressure points, both from family and admin.

I'm in a better place now.
And musicians don't always get a second chance.

But I'm dead.

"You know dead rappers get better promotion..."
-Jadakiss, "We Gon Make It"
















~follow the buzzards~

From out of nowhere...

Hip-hop is the last pure Black genre.
Trap falls under Hip-Hop, like it or not.
I respect my forefathers.
But one of them just pissed me off.

So now, it's war.

I have a new target.
Bigger than Drake.
Bigger than Jay-Z.
Bigger than The Game.
Bigger than Em.

Feel paranoid (vets) if you've been doubletalking.
But you know who you are.

I can't believe I believed in you.
Then again, I committed the same sin.

Rest In Peace, god.









~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 2 May 2017

About the Memo (track by track)

"How Much"
I feel as though I've been exploiting my beauty, only to have the girl I truly want ignore me. The lesson is to appreciate yourself before you try to show any form of appreciation to and for someone or something else.

"Must Not"
As I was going in with the writing process for this beat, I found myself caught up in choosing the right word to describe what I do. Be it spiritual or supernatural, it's metaphysical.

"The Rocking Chair"
The thoughts of an Egyptian god who is about to be worshipped.

"Mainstream Gods (Polytheism)"
Instead of taking aim at Drake for his subliminal shots at me, this is an appeal to him. Basically, we're both tyrants in the game. We both had an underground start. He's just more visible than I.

"My Lovely Green Polo"
With no one and nothing on my side, all I have is the image I have built for myself SINCE wearing the color pink. I have no fear in any color, in living color.

"Shun Di (Dollar Van)"
Shun Di was the old man in Virtua Fighter. I have taught many, but it is my students I'm most weary of.

"The Wrapture"
God gave me a new style to record with, and I wrapped it. This song is a celebration of such.

"Sailor Venus"
I have found the girl of my dreams. And she has a man. But deep down, I know she still loves me.

"ConEd feat. Enjetic"
This is me and an up-and-coming MC from Long Island going back and forth on the "Light Up" (Jay Z and Drake) instrumental.

"Masato Nakamura feat. VS Diamond"
This is me and another up-and-coming MC. She's from Queens. Google search Masato Nakamura.

"Rocked Out feat. Chris Young"
This is actually from the second 3rd Eye Magic project. Chris was just cool with me putting it on this mixtape.

"D Sharp Minor feat. Frank MIDI"
A party joint. Party records have changed since I last checked.




^
^
^
^
^
^
Here's to hoping you enjoy the mixtape.
It was fun to record and I got a chance to say all that I've been meaning to say.
And there's still room for me to vent and grow.

Please Listen To My Memo 2: Poisonous Post-Its

I'll be around...















~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 1 May 2017

Please Listen To My Memo 2: Poisonous Post-Its


Here's to hoping you enjoy more insecure rants about not being an "accessible artist."

Holla.







I miss you, Simone Marshall!!!








~follow the buzzards~

Doing too much

Since magick and I fell in love, I've been doing some amazing things for people.
I've always been able to make people rich.
Now I know how to edify one's spirit.
I think my feeling of emptiness came from not being able to do things for people.
Now I do.

But that's not why you're here.
You want new music and stories to make you feel like I need some sort of intervention.

I'm good.
For now.
I've been recording some of my best music, I might be working on retail album number 2, and SEGA is doing just fine.
All I have to worry about is sustaining a living.

Universe/Galaxy, I have invested all of my abilities (paranormal, psychics, etc,) into music.
Is there any way I can be compensated?

I think I'm gonna stop doing tarot readings for people.
All they do is try to change the futures
One of the first things oaychics tell you is to not try to change the future.
I can literally change the past.

I just can't bring my mother back.
Or un-walk on Lenox Ave in 2007.

The Socratic Doomer is among us.
How about a mixtape to warm you up for it?

Expect it.
This month.
Maybe even today!


Holla at me, some!










~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 28 April 2017

The Jealous Sun?


^
^
^
It's funny how jealousy can make the one people are jealous of feel inadequate.
Wait.
It's the jealous people who make you feel inadequate.
It's up to the star to shake it off.
Toughen up.
It's not a fight you have to win.

They have to beat you.

There's a lot of people jealous of me.
Though I have more than meets the eye, they have what the eye meets.
Is it talent?
Beauty?
Resilience?
Why the hell are you so jealous?

I can easily be jealous of so many people.
But I know my worth.
Therefore, they and their success doesn't bother me.

I know most of you pop stars are overdubbing my music.
It pisses me off.
I want to tell you to stop.
Then again, music would suck.
So I guess my fans are right.

Music would suck without me.















~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

It was written...

The verses in my songs, as poetic as they are, are essays.
Introduction, body, conclusion.
I don't want to dive too deep into my hooks.
Yes there's a formula, but I tend to just go with the flow.

Life is like one big Charles Hamilton chorus/hook/bridge.

I used to think life was a Dilla beat.
Or a Dre mix.

There are so many reasons to love.
Why am I so full of self-hate?

Why?

Because everyone wants to dethrone, since they're not in a position of authority.

Or am I being racist to Harlem?

In case you haven't noticed, these blog entries are poems.
As much real talk as there is in them, they are written in poetry form.
I love spoken word.

So much, I might try to enter the arena.
After hip-hop.
Hip-hop doesn't need me.
Music does.
Not hip-hop.

I miss the piano.
I love the piano.
I want to... matter fact?
That's what I might do this weekend.
I'm gonna find a piano and zone out.

Maybe then I can make sense of my poetry.






Music is magick.
Don't ever let them say it ain't so.













~follow the buzzards~

Impatient lyrics x breakdown


^
^
^
(verse 1)
Brown skin-ded. Pretty nose and pretty lips. Might be the new Mike Jackson to you idiots. But please. "This Is It". Shit. Trapped in the Mike (mic) trap. Back in the mic booth. Black on the Mike (mic). That's ...what happens in the mic booth. And on the top of the mic (Mike) is a black wire. What's inside of it is color. No rainbow, but I'm that fire. Sorry. (I'm) 'bout to burn the red. If you got headphones on, nigga turn your head. You gon' see the Blue. Peek-a-boo! Yellow in the middle. Bitch, I'm reading you. Damn. Sonic outfit. And that's between me and you. So when another nigga spits, it's between me and you. No Ja. No, I won't stop. Oh! I'm so hot! Read my old blog for the stuff I jot now... and look ahead with the new shit!

(hook)
I gave you my heart like it was AOL.
And you tore it apart like it was AOL.
Cocaine in my heart.
Hey.
"Oh well!"
The one to save me from my heart break.
Heartbreak.

(verse 2)
How do I start the first verse of the rest of your life? Because you'll think about the first verse for the rest of your life. Or for the rest of the night. Or, for the rest of The Night. Taking a rest on knights, I move with my pawn. Take a rest on the mic. Move it. You're gone. You lost. Dog gone. I'll be the nigga who's Al B. Sure! when I log on. One sight. At least with my brows (Browz). Niggas is like "Talise, turn him down!" I don't know about the niggas Talise is turnin' down, but none of them niggas is coming in the house I'm leasing now. And this house is my house. Feeling like James Cleveland. We ain't even. Only because I'm a decimal off. And yes, I'm talking to the boss (looking at the engineer, who may have been J Dilla).

(hook)
I gave you my heart like it was AOL.
And you tore it apart like it was AOL.
Cocaine in my heart.
Hey.
"Oh well!"
The one to save me from my heart break.
Heartbreak.

(verse 3)
I have just exhibited skill. Niggas then give me a pill. Lyrically, I give you a chill. Then, I try to chill. Niggas like, "Chill!". Chill. "How many times you gonna say chill?!" CH is Ill. Okay. Great bar. But y'all niggas acting like I'm not a great Bard. Okay. I'm from Outer Space, y'all. Shakespearian with a pin in my ear. But I got a pen on my ear, thinking about how am I gonna grin at my peers? But y'all ain't my peers. Y'all peer at me on the microphone, I appear happy, but leave my life alone. You've been shitting on my life, my skill(s), my wife and the people who "chill" with me at night. And night's whenever I black. Or whenever you press play whenever it's my music you lack.

(hook)
I gave you my heart like it was AOL.
And you tore it apart like it was AOL.
Cocaine in my heart.
Hey.
"Oh well!"
The one to save me from my heart break.
Heartbreak.
^
^
^
^
^
^
The concept of Coke Whore habits. was actually based on real life. 
A cross-gender virgin snorts one line of cocaine around a bunch of strangers and starts revealing every secret about itself. 
It goes through extreme emotions of both genders.
And this back and forth hormonal struggle is witnessed by a bunch of people of whom it's never met before.
At the point of "Impatient" on the album, the virgin is realizing it's sex appeal among the strangers.
And is waiting for either drama or passion.

Based on a true story.

Coke Whore habits. is online now.












~follow the buzzards~

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

Props to the spinner...



I find it remarkable that Funkmaster Flex is showing love to the DJs.
NY has gotten sick of Flex's technique over the years, but he's a true turntablist.
So shouts to you, Funkmaster Flex!!!



^
^
^
I actually met Rob Swift a few years ago.
He's a great guy.
Just a bit scary.
He doesn't know how he's scary.
And if he does, he should really cut that shit out.



^
^
^
Statik is slowly becoming my new favorite producer.
I prefer chops, and his beats don't seem to have any, but he's STILL dope.
His style reminds me of my 2005-2009 style.

Had to switch things up.
Too many people were biting and misusing it.

Not you, Statik.


Holla at me, y'all.
I'm trippin.
I don't know what's what.
I can only count on my senses.
And they have been deceived and misused.

Just like my talent.

Whatever.
I'm out.











~follow the buzzards~

Monday, 24 April 2017

jumpstarts.

So, I tried it again.
Suicide, to be sewer-side.
By the side of the divine who can't find their minds.

But control mine.

I found some old pills of mine.
There's no expiration dates on meds.
I just... I wanted to...

I was being selfish.

But if you've been following my music since 2012, I kinda have a few reasons.
Then Joe died.
Then mom died.
And then, they played Dilla.

Massa keeps me alive.
Baddie keeps me alive.
Diamond keeps me alive.
I wish you StarChasers with SoundCloud accounts would know how personal I take it when I look at your page to retweet you and see you promoting the hell out of your own music.

Like... don't you know who I am?
By now?

More often than ever before, my name gets sworn and I feel the zounds.
So how can I recognize God if I have His/Her wounds?

I have felt stigmata.
I've cut my veins.
I've swallowed pills.
I put the gun down the day Dilla died.

I've been embarrassed.
So embarrassed, I leave the house, LOOKING for a fight.
And running from the same fights my body language is looking for.

I am the bane of this planet.

"Only SEGA can save me..."
-Charles Hamilton, "Flawed"

The deeper I go into music, the more psycho I feel myself become.
I feel myself morphing slowly into either a mocha skinned thick female or Jody from Baby Boy.

My body is still a mystery to me.

Thank you Danny for waking me up.
We'll keep the hospital story a mystery.
Or, I'll write a book.







~follow the buzzards~!

The Hours of Horus

Taking a piss feels SO MUCH BETTER when the pee is yellow.

Just an observation.

I found a dope artist.
Mod Sun.
I've mentioned him on here before.
I think we have a picture together.

I just checked Google.
Nope.
We don't.

Anyway, I really want to produce EXCLUSIVELY for one rapper.
And get into the mainstream with him or her.
I may have found it with Enjetic.
He's the only one I have fun with in the studio.
Meaning, his technique is MUCH MORE advanced than anyone I've worked with (so far).
I HATE to say it, but we might go farther than me and CYoung did.

And I LOVE CYoung.

The reason I feel we might travel the game further is, Young wants to prove versatility.
Enj pretty much just wants to get me paid.
I didn't trust it at first, but we bonded this weekend.
We went to Atlantic City.
Plenty Henny.
No bud.
If I had a connect in AC, we would've lit the boardwalk.

As far as Turn First/First Access, time is starting to reveal all the positives they've done for me.
I've only been focused on the negative.
Hard to escape my feelings for Nadia (Khan), Jono means well and Sarah is a hustler.
I got love for them.
But... I was censored.

I couldn't talk about my Apple affiliation.
Couldn't talk about my exploits in magick.
I HAD to make a "Black Lives Matter" song.
It's not that I DON'T think Black Lives Matter.
But there are 2-3 different types of Black.
Evil.
Race.
Censorship.

I am a Black man, blacked on by Black Magick.
So I referred to White Magick.















White power.



















~follow the buzzards~

Saturday, 22 April 2017

A NEW SOUND (ALERT!!!!!!!)

Lo-Fi
Hi-Fi
MY-Fi

Engineers, don't bother.
I got this on lock.



I'm an artist with sound.
I am sound with art.

I am music.




MY-Fi.




Get used to it.
















~follow the buzzards~

Friday, 21 April 2017

Right back. Add it.


^
^
^
Addition.

Some things are in the works.
I must live for music only.
Making time for those who truly love me.
And remaining true to myself.

Potentially selfish.
But as a Black man, you almost have to be.
As a musician, you are unable to show growth without criticism.
As a Black musician, you are entitled to mastery.

At the expense of your state of mind.

So, there's that.








Shouts to VS Diamond.







~follow the buzzards~

Thursday, 20 April 2017

The hardest song, EVER.


^
^
^
I ... lol I mean this is just insane.
This is a dope record/cover.
Not cover as in artwork, young StarChasers.

You should know what a cover song is.

Do you?

There's a difference between a cover and a sample.

#respectthecraft
















~follow the buzzards~

Opiates on 4/20

Happy 4/20, Earth!
I know I'm not exactly the go-to guy for positivity (as of recent years), but I'm growing.
Musically.
Professionally.
Aesthetically.
Personally.

Much growth.

I don't have a lot to say today (I'm kinda high), but I will say this.





SEGA is forever.
I miss you, J Dilla.
I love you, George Massa.
Get well, Jack Splash.
May the funk be with you, Daft Punk.
Love to all those not mentioned.

It seems like I get a reprise from DOOM on holidays.
Today is more of a high-liday.
lol
But yeah.
More music coming soon.
And again, you could be on the verge of receiving my last free album.
I'll still record, but I ... feel weird about the current state of music.
And my role in it.

I think we're clear on who I am in this shit.
For those who aren't, don't worry.
You don't have to know.
Just don't harass me when you find out.

More than likely you won't.

I want to enhance my vocabulary.
Or, I'll just read what I want to read.
And share the knowledge of what I learned through music.
And that's what it is!

I'm out!














~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 19 April 2017

Dear Sasheer (and Beyonce)


^
^
^
This song is dedicated to all rape victims.
There is no blaming yourself.
And there is no revenge.
There is a deep wound within you, but you can heal.
Don't search for love.
You'll end up spending money.
Don't search for closure.
It'll attract the wrong people.

On November 30th, 2009, I went to visit Sha-leik at his house.
I was just with Simone Porter earlier that day.
I showered, got fresh, and went to go see Sha to get high.

My uncle Jeff wasn't allowing me to smoke.

I get there, we smoke, start chopping samples, and he subconsciously tells me he's J Dilla.
I doubted him.
So I 6-shot him.
George and THE REAL J DILLA understand.
Then, I up'd him.
George and THE REAL J DILLA (and maybe Jack Splash) understand.

A few minutes later, he says "If you sleep here, I swear I'm gonna rape you."
It triggered me.
I felt fear for the first time in a long time.
It's bad enough I'm almost certain Drake raped me.
But this was a friend of mine.
He would know how deep of a gash that would leave.
So I brushed it off.

I verbally asked him if he was seriuos, and he didn't say a word.
So I ~telepathically~ dared him to do it.
I laid down on the floor with my laptop open, and went to sleep.

I woke up the next morning, after visions of ALL OF 8th AVENUE (Harlem) gang raping and belittling me.
I woke up before Sha did.
I took a shit.
Nothing seemed out of place.
When I left, his sister (who locked the door as I exited) screamed "ALL DAY!"

There's a chance Lionell Sha-leik Martin MIGHT be J Dilla.
Or a victim of Beats By Dr. Dre.

So I bring this blog entry to the top and say...








Dear Sasheer (Zamata),
You are the face of a Black poindexter's dream. I have visions of us being together in this lifetime, just as younger souls. I want to love you. I lust after you. I want you to walk all over me. And I want you to believe in SEGA. You have a crush.



Sincerely,
Charles Hamilton














~follow the buzzards~