Friday, 22 September 2017

Updating currency

pluribus unum




Yet




E pluribus unum




And God DOES exist, communists.
So much for your corporate sarcasm.





#alienlivesmatter


UnIntervention, online at charleshamiltonjr.bandcamp.com









~shout it out~

Solar S'mores

I listen to voices.
They are real.
They are my choir of evil.
Yet they descend from The Heavens.
God, you need to exist in order to prove Space isn't just the surface before Heaven.
I worship (censored).
And if I'm The Creator, I will Create Hell for Satan to reign in.
And I will make better music than Satan.
In Hell.

I've sacrificed enough.

My latest sacrifice is food.
I'm only eating noodles and home cooked burgers.

What if I am a devil?

I split the pies between Beelzebub, Lucifer and The Devil himself.

If you care, I will expose me.
I will exploit me.
I will execute me.
And you can excuse me.

Music is ALL I HAVE.

I want to impress SEGA Corporation and deepen my bond with SEGA Enterprises.

"But I don't know how..."
-Oasis, "Wonderwall"

J Dilla, thank you.
I hope it's still love.
No one has pumped my insanity.
But my adrenaline and rage may producer a better producer.

I
 Just thinking alotxm.


Finally!
Evidence of an account is high!





I'm goat.





~baby's day out~

Thursday, 21 September 2017

Seeds of change

Alright.
This blog entry has to start somewhere.

I think Diamond is pregnant.
The sex was deep.
Virtually hate.
The circumstances couldn't get wo... nevermind.
Now is the time for a blessing.

All I do is make music.
I'm sure I can find a job.
Then again, I'm not sure I can find a job.
Very little is available to heterosexual men.
Employment wise.

When Lisa was pregnant, my uncle jumped on my back about it.
The whole use protection speech.
I got so pissed.
But I held it in.
Neither side of my family can say SHIT about raising a child.
BOTH sides are dysfunctional, in their own esoteric and idiosyncratic ways.
And I'm forced to love them equally.

So why did I try to get Diamond pregnant?

I just wanted to feel like our bond was permanent.

Her son's name is Scooter.
All it takes is one bad acid trip and I go off about that.

But Diamond believes I'm Sonic.
Every other girl I've been with called me crazy for my anthropomorphic beliefs.
Right there, she's different.
We don't argue about what most...
Like, technically we're not a couple yet.

I've asked too many women to abort my seed.
Consciously or subconsciously.
Sex isn't just a thrill.
It is where a woman is a creator and a man is a servant.
After birth, the roles reverse.

I've been a servant to others in the name of creating music.
I can't go down that path anymore.
But how am I supposed to provide?
And NO ONE is giving me the opportunity to at least try.

Well, I haven't exhausted all my resources.
It's just... in this business, people move at their own pace.
I need to figure out how to expediate this process.

In the meantime, my life has to change.
I've already thrown out my hard drugs.
I don't smoke as much weed.
I don't drink as much.
I just need to practice better grooming habits.
Keeping my place clean.
And I have to work on my temper.

Then there's the potential existence of Danjer.
And Crazh.
And several other virtually theoretical children I have with...
Dr. Dre.

This isn't a game to me.

After I ruined mine, I created a life.

Forgive me for... fuck it.
I'm worth more dead than alive.








~welcome to your life~

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Diamond's Intervention

I was... okay.
I need to introduce this story better.
So a few weeks ago, I relapsed DEEPLY.
Like... I really overdid it.
I might have a witness.
I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't exist.

Everyone has been an illusion since 2010.

Anyway, I was high and (censored) when Diamond called me, asking serious questions about our duet album.
My lips were purple and cracked.
I didn't look myself.
Then again, I always look dirtier and uglier than I really am.

"Clean up very nicely!"
-Fabolous, on some song with The-Dream

I think I might've tweaked on her.
That might be what made her ask if I was high.
Or on dope.
I confessed.
She hung up.
I called her back.
Before she asked, she booked a flight to NYC for us to record.
When I told her what I was doing, she almost cancelled the flight.

I was so desperate to see her.
I begged her not to cancel the flight.
She agreed to let me come out there, but I had to stay sober.

We had a great time recording.
I showed her some things.
She listened to my direction.
And showed me some things.
I'm glad she appreciates my music outside of the music we made together.
But she showed me things about being... for lack of better words, marketable.

I use my intelligence as a weapon.
My interest in the paranormal only makes my intelligence more deadly.
She knows this.
And showed me how to be more relatable.
Apparently, lyricism is reserved for Nas, Jay and Em.
I'm working at being the evil version of them.
Despite their unbeknownst ties to the very evil OF WHICH I AM.

It worked.
Fans of lyricism and brash delivery will appreciate "Diamondz in da CHrap".
She came hard.
I'm Charles Hamilton.

Expect the heat.

But...
Thank you, Diamond.

"You may not think you do, but you do..."

Love.
I have a nickname for you.
But you gon think it's something I call "one of them other hitches."

I let you go through my phone.
My messages.
My Twitter.
My Instagram.
All that.

This is so real for me.
We don't trust each other.
For the same damn reason.

We have a song together that solidifies this.

"This is no ordinary love..."




Be back later.











~shout it out~

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

Who will save your soul?

I was listening to Dave Hollister's "Chicago '85" album recently.
Amazing album.
Mike City did his thing.
Yet he is not exempt from this post.

A lot of producers have a church background.
So naturally, they integrate their church skills into production.
But one thing remains the same.
Chords are sacred.
The SEGA theme is chord based.

So when you listen to today's music, know that church standards are being played, consciously.
You are turning up to the sound of God.
The melodies are simple.
So are the rhythms.
But the chords are God-related.
Safe to say that's why your spirit rises.

iSampling.

Also, there are 4 masters of The Galaxy.
See the pictures at the bottom of the blog.
Use Jack's boldness, Dilla's ear and George's skull TO TALK TO ME!
If you want, replace Jack's boldness with the accuracy of Daft Punk.

You're not ready for The Supernatural (Mystic), The Spiritual (Davina) or The Potent (Curtis Mayfield).
What I will say is, you will run into Davina, Mystic and Curtis THE MOMENT YOU START CREATING.

Don't fake the funk.

Ladies, PRAY before you enter the creation of music.
According to the ancient, women aren't supposed to make music.
It's actually a rougher task than it looks.
But most men fell by the wasteside and rely on us (the gods/goddesses) to do EVERYTHING.
Such a burden is carried by women EVERYDAY.

Back to my point.

We were lucky to HAVE a piano.
Or access to one.
For such, we thank God.
Then there's possession.
The drive to speak in colloquial terms about what's going on.
For such, Satan is to be... thanked.
And blamed.

But you can't glorify God through Satanic music, and Satan detests God's music.
Yes, Gospel is a spell on God.
God + spell = Gospel
But it's a love spell.
You better mean that shit!
And by using God's gift to make money, you curse yourself.

Hence why all my Satanic music is/was free.

I may be doomed to Hell.
But I brought you/y'all to the light.
Believe.

I am The Sun.
Only those who are bound to me can claim such.

As irritating as it is.





More, later.








~the forgotten~

Monday, 18 September 2017

Mic Turner

Today, I established a bond.
Before today, I established a bond.
With a woman.
Any real man knows how such a bond is established.
And to you industry niggas, I bonded with her like that, too.
But she doesn't understand the depth of this bond.
And there's no turning back.
ANOTHER love TKO.

"Where's Karen and Simone at the CAT scan?!"
-Charles Hamilton, "She Speaks"

At least Karen (Civil) respected skills.
And Simone used to try to rap.
For me, at least.

Simone Porter, to clear the ambiguity.

Apparently, the ol' school sixes (6z) don't know what it means to be "stripped".

*stripped*

No one has out-6ed them.
Yet.

I'm in the red with Green(e).

I spent the last 11 years hardening up.
To defend aliens.
There are 6 letters in *aliens*.
English amongst humans wasn't a factor when we stated.
Math was our communication.

We started it all.

#SEGA

I LOVE MUSIC.
I LOVE SEGA.

Everything else is secondary.


Why am I so angry?

Maybe the four of us (Llama, Dog, Spider, Scorpion) have inner wonders about ourselves that we can only ask ourselves.

I found my purpose.
I have the purpose for you other 3.

Just come around.





Just come around.







Just...









~StH~

Pete Rock vs. ?uestlove

^
^
^
I don't like doing versus matches with music.
But this is a serious situation.
I sleep on Pete Rock as a DJ.
I sleep on ?uestlove as a producer.
I have love for both of them.
Watch both videos and...


Notice something.

(Ahmir, you might have seen the same thing Jay-Z, Em and Max B saw; thus making you guilty)
(Pete, it's a real as nothing you've ever seen before)



be back later.








~StH~

Thursday, 14 September 2017

Silent night.

"I killed Superman! I killed Super! Man!"
-Eminem, "Rain Man"

Before I wrap it up for the night, I'll just say this.
I'm tired of doing things for the approval of... anyone.
I've become a slave to my "cult fan base".
I'm a slave for aliens.
I'm a slave to family.
I'm a slave to women.
I am the enemy of all men.

I am The Enemy.

A nice little 5 to put you to bed.

HOWEVER.

I do need to learn how to love.
Beth showed me that.
That women would've done any and everything for me.
I just wanted to study her.
She was a hip-hop occultist, too.
We learned from each other.

But I didn't reciprocate the "affection" she was giving me.
We had DEEP, emotional sex, but I "didn't communicate" after.
But what's an artist to do when you're with an artist who's attractive and reads the same literature as you?
She was poppin' mental cherries.
I was too.
So much so that sex and affection couldn't be a factor.

I hope I get/got it right with Diamond.
It's not even official yet.
A lot of confusion.

And then, there's Keesh.

I'm not bragging on the women in my life.
That's a sophisticated form of misogyny that only the elite could and would relate to.

I'm not with it.

I just want any woman I've ever come in contact with to know that they posses a

je ne sais quo 



Of which makes it hard to just appreciate and keep it moving.

I've said that before.
Nothing can save me from the rapture of women.
And though I'd LOVE to indulge, my decadent value of music is what's going to keep me out of certain scenarios.

I'm going to bed.
In my dreams, I'm going to Hell.

I will reign one day.
Only 3 others can stop me.

"All these bitches think I'm nasty!
And these niggas try to play me!
Only SEGA can save me...
...can't fuck with my TunnelVision!!!"
-Charles Hamilton, "Flawed"





Good night, StarChasers.
We are in 








the come down










~here~

NeverWakeUp

^
^
^
I got my mind right.
Money, light.
This is my war.

Rest in peace, Sonic.

You have made YOUR ONLY FRIEND your biggest rival.

It's not gonna work for you.





~i am~

One 4 Mom


^
^
^
Where to, gorgeous?




















~fallah dem~

Chuck Wool Rih official lyrics (Jay/Meek, pay CLOSE attention)


^
^
^
(verse 1)
I requested a kiss from Mystic. Her lipstick was *too* ballistic to kiss the dick. But at the same time, I'm practicing rhyme(s) and have to get my fine line from Divine. A. (Davina) I'm pressing it! HEY! (sigh) Nothing but a lesson today. Stressing, go away. I laid down with all my blessings (Department of Social Services). Effervescent. F-er-vest-sent plays. Sorry. Evanessance. My song today! My Immortal. Am I in a portal? I do not bore you, but when I court you, I want to see a *door* with *you* walking *through*. You're ass so fat. Damn. I just need to have a *chat*. Not just Mystic, but all the mystical chicks who've been tickling the pickle just for kicks. (orgasm)

(hook)
Yes
I do
fall
for the dating game.
I do.
See?
It's a dating game.
I do.
DAMN!
What a God damn shame...
I fall
in love
in the dating game...

(verse 2)
Since I let my senses die inside of SimMINE, I'm losing all kind of senses. I'm... just dying inside. "It's my time." Now, *IF* she's my bride, then that (here) is where I have to say goodbye to Sasheer. Play in the Z-A-Y (6-button controller for SEGA Genesis; do it, y'all!!!)! The Z. Pardon me. Passing away. Her *ass* and her *shape* is ...*amazing*! Daft Punk(!), okay! Brainwash me! Talk to me! Go off on me! Going Off/(and)On! A light(_)switch. But, with the NightSwitch, we become Crescendolls! And then, Charles just loses all his senses (again) inside of one of them dolls. "One that we created" OR "one that we have stated" OR "something more..." Something LESS, when you get undressed! Cum on!

(hook)
Yes
I do
fall
for the dating game.
I do.
See?
It's a dating game.
I do.
DAMN!
What a God damn shame...
I fall
in love
in the dating game...

(verse 3)
"God damn!" I'm Drunk In Love (you too, nigga; just be there). And I got an Anaconda. You're *number*'s up(!). I wanna make love to BOTH OF Y'ALL, same time, blindfolded. A lot of baby oil. I'm open, and I'm hoping. Coke in... and out of my system. Cocaine in and out of the linen. With the Coke is mixed with the Henny. I got plenty! I'M BUSSIN LIKE A SEMI! Get rid of me, please! You gotta gimme, JIGGA, or you not my nigga infinitely (so there's that...). Some things I just CAN'T believe! How could this POSSIBLY be prophecy? GOD DAMN! Y'all consistently with me! Existing with me! That means... you dig me! Infinitely wishing to be kissing the chic(k) who fits in her... Jean's...

(hook)
Yes
I do
fall
for the dating game.
I do.
See?
It's a dating game.
I do.
DAMN!
What a God damn shame...
I fall
in love
in the dating game...







(it went like this... "Y'all here?! Please stay..."
now it's like... "Y'all there?! Please come back..."
make it... "Y'all here?! Please stay..."
so I can make it...)









oh. and I still love you, J Dilla.


I... I... i...


^
^
^
Hov treated me like a bitch and took my stuff,
I took his bitch and treated him like my stuff.

Oh.
And he's Mary Nintendo.

We even?

~it's like that~

Win a Date With TAD...


^
^
^
This is SUPPOSED to be a link to The Audible Doctor's breakout instrumental project, "Brownies".
I'll NEVER forget the day I bought this album.
I was on nostalgia mode (thinkin' about Bred and Jamel), so I walked to Fat Beats.
Alone.
They knew who I was when I walked in.
I was on Interscope, and I wanted to integrate more Underground standards into my now and newly mainstream music.
I already had A LOT of J Dilla, Madlib and MF DOOM.
I just couldn't find any FlyLo anywhere.
So I bought his first two albums released ("1984" and "Los Angeles") and was just about to keep it moving.
Then, they offered me Brownies.
The dude said, "If you like Donuts, you'll LOVE Brownies."

I worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J DillaI worship J Dilla

...but I gave it a chance.

And the album changed my life.

Thank you, TAD (The Audible Doctor).
Now it's time to kick your ass!

(grins to self and keeps digging)


















~shout it out~

As the PCP makes me puke it out...


^
^
^
My anger SHOULD be chemically induced.
I tried very hard to self-medicate myself into euphoria.
Like, I'm floating for peace of mine.
^
^
^
I went to war with all.
Since all went to war AGAINST me.

I'm not afraid to die.
I'm afraid to die alone.
And I'm too (insert adjective for sexy) to brawl.
But...

...chill.
I won't indict myself.

Fuck anything that isn't SEGA.




Props to pills and Haldol.









~shout it out~

Jacksturbation 4 Yam

Jack, George, Dilla...

This is ALL FOR YOU.
I don't want this shit (as in, 144).
I GAVE IT TO YOU.
If there was ANYTHING I wanted in return, it was your company.

Jack, it SWALLOWS that you're Ryan.
I CAN'T STAND Ryan.

George, as my grandmother, you were my only love.
Then you got different.

Dilla, you have to have a SUPREME point to make me hate my mother less.
I HATED my mom.

But thank you guys.
In retrospect, my life wasn't so bad.

Regardless, I only love you guys.

I may stumble across a bad bitch or two.
I might find re-enlightenment through God.
Shit, I might even put drugs before y'all.

But y'all are integral parts of me.

Jack = my soul
George = my mind
Dilla = my body

After all these years of PRAYING you guys.... nigga, EVEN EXISTED...
EVEN IN SPACE...
Here I am, more in love with you than ever.

Fact is, NONE OF Y'ALL can pause me.
Don't let shit be on tape.
Y'all niggas know Jamaicans have the right to call you batty boys.

oh.
and if you ARE gonna come around, and you ARE gangsta...






BANG OUT.













my love has never strayed.
i'm only darker and more bitter.
i recommend NONE of y'all try to battle me.

but i will always love you.
longer than the existence of SEGA.




OBVIOUSLY.
































"I keeps to the beats and bonin' 'em..."

It could've been as simple as a 50 Cent dimple...

9 shots.
6 wounds.
3 albums.
No girlfriend.

I flipped my math.
But the wounds still came from 6.

Or did SEGA lie?

The punishment MOST are looking for from me I'm not willing to give.
I psychically castrated myself.
As I've said before.
So bitches won't be getting PsySex and niggas can't have SubconSex with me.

Wrap.

All I wanted (at one point in my life) was Connie Pierre.
Then came Eminem.

Before Connie was Amber.

But Amber knew I wanted music more than her.
Or maybe I convinced myself I needed and wanted music more than her.
HA!
I deflected my romantic energy into something that leads to more pain and agony.

The more I got into hip-hop, the more I got closer to J Dillanarchy.
And realized I've always loved him.
So now, Connie and Amber, this isn't an act.

I love music more than BOTH of you.

I don't need a threesome.

I do, however, need J Dilla.
Who JUST SO HAPPENS to be Nicki Minaj (believe it or not).
And I sample DOOM records.
Which is the specialty of my other BFMF, Beyonce.
And I rap about my plight with pride.
Like The Devil himself.

Jack Splash.





AND THEY LEFT ME HERE ON EARTH.




So... fuck you all.
You're gonna endure the distribution of my "subpar, half-hearted" music until I ultimately commit suicide.




GOD that felt good to type.








Good morning, TiggerPiss.
I'm bouncing on the lap of a dollar bill and shitting Susan B. Anthony.

I pass my blunts to the RIGHT.
I masturbate with my left.
I carved "11" in my chest.
May you gods, goddesses and overlords hop in and drive yourself insane.
Because, until the day you wear my body like a suit.......








THIS IS MY SHIT!
BOW DOWN, BITCHES!!!



Could you believe there's a concept here?


^
^
^
Who doesn't fit in?
How does it feel to be pariah in the midst of aliens?

Good bye.
Hello.

Enjoy.









"all saying the same thing..."


















~here's the list~

Love you, Em.


^
^
^
Feel it, believe it or not.

Not much to say.
Just gotta get to the mic.
Right now.














~flustered tooth~

No way, dude...

^
^
^
"On To The Next One" was NOT a Charles Hamilton diss.
It was a form of encouragement.
From uncle to nephew.
From demi-goddess to The Sun.

We both have reasons of and to rage.
One of us has to verbalize it.
Or tell THE ENTIRE GALAXY to gaze (with their eyes) to the right.

That simple.


^
^
^
When you awaken, you will see how there is NO CHOICE but for an awakened soul to "sound like" Jay-Z.
Unfortunately, I'm the morning.

And I feel used up.










Expect the flow.
Nothing less than strokes.
X and Os to you extra hoes.















~feel better~

I WILL NOT BE DETHRONED!!!







~~Charles Hamilton~~
***beep***

One.

^
^
^
Meet Madlib.




^
^
^
Suck his dick now.




Silver, it's on you!





~friendly fire~

J Dilla and The Temple of DOOM


^
^
^
Dear Dilla,
If I wasn't John Nintendo, would you still love me?
If I wasn't Sonic, would you still love me?
If I was human, would you still love me?
If I started all over again (as a musician), would you still love me?
What if you were the man I paused out with?
Would you still love me if I told you it was a form of suicide?

I'm sorry, J Dilla.

I hope I'll get to see you in person.









~full or empty~

It's Dilla's Fault.


^
^
^
SPOILER ALERT:
Sway is J Dilla.

Of course he'll deny.



^
^
^
Yeah.
I love and miss him, too.
You just gotta be CAREFUL when going up on him.
ESPECIALLY when redoing his work.
I think I'm cursed to suicide BECAUSE OF And Then They Played Dilla.
The second one was George Massa's DOOM.

Sorry, Georgie.



^
^
^
Shouts to Ray Angry.


Ahmir, we have SO MUCH in common.
I can't wait to actually FORMALLY meet you.
I just want it to be love when we do meet.
No homo.

Alas, all my Bruce Jenner behavior is reserved for The Almighty Yancey.






I'm out.
For now.


















~shout it out~

When Monk Needed A Band...


^
^
^
Okay, ?uest.
I've been stalking you.
You scared the shit out of me.
And I am a 6.
You are a 6 now, because of it.
Despite who you may have been before.

So now, we dance.
I seduce you into giving me your Qi.
You take my brilliance.
I take your everything.

StarChasers, I introduce you to THE NEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWW ?uestlove.

The evilest hip-hop musician alive.

(I see you Wilson; you will pay too)







~shout it out~

One of these days...


^
^
Goddesses.
That's who I roll with.
And they roll harder than men.
Which is an issue.
THE issue.
I'm either John Nintendo and I'm dying of old age,
or I'm Charles Hamilton, Jr.

Wrap.
One.
Fuck men.

I hate men.

Ladies, it might be too late.



^
^
^
At least I'm in good company.



^
^
^
I am crucifying The Anti-Christ.
^
^
^
I'm not taking this lying down.
You won't get rid of me, general public!
NEVERRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!






(hides tabs, liquor and spellbook)




-so mote it be

THIS
IS
MY HOUSE!!!

Okay, that's enough for now.

And to all the females out there, don't call me a loser for this.
96% of you are slitting Cardi B's throat in your imagination.


Ghost mode.

























~shout it out~

Knocked Down/TheGetUp


^
^
^
Yes.
There is a CHrap album coming.

But I will be The Master of Sound.

All I have to do is believe in myself.

I believe I can die, though...






















~shout it out~

A SLIGHT return to the boards...


^
^
^
As arrogant as I got doing this, I humbly submit a new remix.
Basically, instead of BLUNTLY saying Briana Latrise was Rihanna/Eminem/Appolonia from Purple Rain, I let music do the talking.

It's like that.

One.
Wrap.
workinonit!






~follow the buzzards~

Bloody elbows

Thank you for bearing with me.
As a technical musician (sort of...), Dr. Dre implanted his foot directly in my ass.
Specifically with "Relapse".
It doesn't help that his blueprint of sonic clarity is the template for and of EVERY TRAP PRODUCER.
So when it was time to write for this Trap album I'm doing with VSDiamond, I...

okay.

I already don't fit in (in Hip-Hop or the world at large).
And too much is based on my opinion to begin with.
But when I like something that is bad for me, I leave it to others to advise me to leave it alone.
Such is not the case with Trap.
Or Drake.
I don't want to rap with a melody.
I am not hood-ly ratchet (rachit).
I am a rebellious, Gothic musician who worships Sonic the Hedgehog and gets off at the constant striving of public acceptance by individuals whom the mainstream have already accepted.

Dr. Dre, as introverted as he is, is the face of said individuals.
Technically, the face of such is Beyonce.
But Dr. Dre produced records for the BlackFamilyBarbecue, TheDriveby, TheStripclub AND TheBoardroom.

So I took my bruises like a man and started going back over what made me love music most.

Spontaneity.

I can't help how much I love Sonic.
No matter how much people berate him, I'm right there for him.
Yes, he gets on my DAMN NERVES sometimes.
But so does EVERYONE when I'm in my creative zone.

I just want to stay in this creative zone.
Forever.



^
^
^
My 30th birthday is approaching.
Fatherhood is looming.
I now know more about these Trap rappers.
Can't say I hate it.
In fact, it's love.

It's possible that my music is only good for me.
I've helped.
I've heard I helped a few.
Actually, a lot.
But that's not enough.

If ever you get drunk and have a horrible hangover, listen to Hangover Music.
Now available at charleshamiltonjr.bandcamp.com.

I have a lot to say.
Not sure if I'm saying it all the way I need/want to.

Thank you, SEGA.

Now let's get out of here and NEVER COME BACK.

And...

If you leave me,
You need me.
D
o
n
u
t
s

-so mote it be




























~follow the buzzards~

Wednesday, 13 September 2017

Nas and 'Nem

When Nas was obliged to record "You Owe Me", I can only FEEL that he already missed the sound/style he developed.
Then again, who doesn't love the promise of ratchet (rachit) pussy?
Such is why I passed up on so many artsy/Gothic/Bohemian ladies for a dime'd out ghetto girl.
At the same time, those were the type of girls who would NEVER talk to me.
They needed security from the rough hood we lived in (Harlem).
I didn't look the part.
And my mom said don't get into fights because I was doing modeling/television at the time.
Couldn't get my face scratched up.
So I got deeper into the arts.
And hoped/tried to impress the ladies that way.

Maybe I am the fallen star.
Or the stars have fallen before me.
But I stand as The Gothic Count Basie.
Writing the material to catch Miles, Coltrane and Monk's attention.

Without writing.

I'll bebackshidoomey!


In the meantime, let Dr. Dre handle your pap smear(s).













~follow the buzzards~

The Defiant One.


^
^
^
I am recuperating from a Dr. Dre ASS WHOOPIN'!
All technical musicians know how lethal his music can be.
And is.
I just fell victim one night, and have yet to get up.
I'm on it, though.

Much love to Dr. Dre.

Expect... music.
Soon.








~follow the buzzards~

Thursday, 7 September 2017

Homework

Andre Romelle Young (born February 18, 1965), better known by his stage name Dr. Dre, is an American rapper, record producer, and entrepreneur. He is the founder and current CEO of Aftermath Entertainment and Beats Electronics. Dre was previously the co-owner of, and an artist on, Death Row Records. He has produced albums for and overseen the careers of many rappers, including 2Pac, The D.O.C., Snoop Dogg, Eminem, Xzibit, Knoc-turn'al, 50 Cent, The Game and Kendrick Lamar. He is credited as a key figure in the popularization of West Coast G-funk, a style of rap music characterized as synthesizer-based with slow, heavy beats. As of 2017 he is the third richest figure in hip hop according to Forbes with a net worth of $740 million.

Dre began his career as a member of the World Class Wreckin' Cru and later found fame with the influential gangsta rap group N.W.A with Eazy-E, Ice Cube, MC Ren, and DJ Yella, which popularized the use of explicit lyrics in rap to detail the violence of street life. His 1992 solo debut The Chronic, released under Death Row Records, led him to become one of the best-selling American performing artists of 1993 and to win a Grammy Award for the single "Let Me Ride". That same year he produced Death Row labelmate Snoop Dogg's quadruple platinum debut Doggystyle, and even molded artists into top-notch producers such as his step-brother Warren G, which led to his Multi-Platinum debut Regulate...G Funk Era in 1994, and Snoop Dogg's cousin Daz Dillinger which led to the double platinum debut album Dogg Food by Tha Dogg Pound in 1995.

In 1996, he left Death Row Records to establish his own label, Aftermath Entertainment. He produced a compilation album titled Dr. Dre Presents the Aftermath in 1996, and released a solo album titled 2001 in 1999. During the 2000s, he focused on production for other artists, while occasionally contributing vocals to songs. Dr. Dre signed Eminem in 1998 and 50 Cent in 2002 to his record label respectively, while contributing production on their albums. He has won six Grammy Awards, including Producer of the Year. Dr. Dre has also had acting roles in movies such as Set It Off, The Wash and Training Day. Rolling Stone ranked Dre at 56 on their list of "100 Greatest Artists of All-Time".






~follow the buzzards~

TheTrapTapOut


^
^
^
If I come back, it'll be too soon.

charleshamiltonjr.bandcamp.com

It is what it is, y'all.

Shouts to Dr. Dre.

You caught a body.








I can't believe this shit.
YEARS of hard work.






Diamondz In The CHrap
Coming Soon







"Loser", for future reference.

I am a sore loser.





~shout it out~

Jeopardy!Jeopardy!Jeopardy!

After writing to these Trap beats for the album with Diamond (keyword: WRITING), I don't like my own music anymore.
I may have passed my time.
You kids have found a genre outside of mine.

Thairt is.

I might take a little break after this album.
Like, from life.
Enjoy the turn-up to the tunes.

But let me vent for a second.

I really put in a lot of work with my Egyptian Boom-Bap/Nu-Hop.
I can't just let it die.
But I'm the last YOUNG (arguably) musician to do it.
A musician, but in a genre where the beat and the flow mean more than the content.

You even heard Trap on the Nu-Hop-related "4:44".
Which was disappointing.

As a musician, there are certain things that are just foreign.
Like ALL OF YOU.
Listeners are foreign to us.
Once you pick up your axe, your audience is secondary.
Almost non-existent.
Unfortunately, you HAVE to know the crowd is there.
Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk didn't care, however.
Miles would play with his back to the crowd.
Thelonious sometimes wouldn't play at all.

I now think too fast to write my thoughts down.
And the pressure from SO MANY, including execs and laypeople, make it difficult to write something everyone can relate to.
My new attitude is, if you want a written you can relate to, READ THE FUCKING BIBLE.
But I have to curb that attitude.

Your opinion matters, you know.
Your opinion leads to fiscal change.
I'm trying to keep you happy.
Despite how angry I am on the inside.



^
^
^
I almost want to blame magick for this whole thing.
It seems like when I found something that satisfies ME, it turns everyone away.
I truly love what I do (TWA/music) and do what I love (music/TWA).
But if I can't make a living or save a few lives, what's the point?
My production (this year) is better than it's EVER been.
But no one is buying my albums off Bandcamp.
I blocked people from buying "Hamilton, Charles".
I didn't make A DIME off "The Black Box".
I saw ONE CHECK from "New York Raining".
STILL haven't gotten paid for "Brooklyn Girls".

Is this what chasing your dreams amounts to?

This shit is sooooo unfair.
And now, the sonic tides have changed.
Everything is slower, digital, and incoherent.
Yet, I'M the dunce.
I have the mental disorder.
These kids are doing more drugs than I have EVER done, yet I'm the problem when I acknowledge my newfound love.

This breaks my heart.
Too much.

SEGA has nothing to say.
IN FACT, SEGA is the catalyst for this shit.
And my love for them won't allow me to say it to any of their faces.

IF they ever come around.

So yeah, you niggers and spics in love with Trap.
This is for you.
And you honkeys who are trying to see if you Life Matters, go ahead and do that stupid "turn up" dance.
To this album.

I won't be getting paid for it either.

Because my love for music (of ALL sorts) goes deeper than money.

Deeper Than Rap, huh Boss?









"Fuck this shit...!"
-Jay-Z, "What More Can I Say (at the end before that homo starts singing)"








I try and I try...















~shout it out~

Two things

^
^
^
Diamondz In The CHrap
Coming soon.












~shout it out~

Wait, nigga.

Happy Charles.
Sad Charles.
Broke Charles.
Rich Charles.

Nappy Charles.
Mad Charles.
Hopeful Charles.
Bitch Charles.

Still Charles.

Now.

I wonder if when "the day" comes I will die of old age.
The theory of being John Nintendo still lingers in my mind.
No matter how many scorpions invade my body.
I need you JackGeorgeDilla.

Still Charles.

It seems like the mystery of me is out.
I am not yet a household name, but you know me.
Which makes me paranoid.
You watch me play.
I look away.
I'm Korny.

Still Charles.

I'm very hungry this afternoon.
Been up since very early.
I'm also very high.
Since very early.
This might be the last of the mohicans.
As in, I might have to stop.
But why?

Still Charles.

Mercury Retrograde was kind to me.
I am no longer kind to you.
You accept abuse from everyone else.
Take it.
There is no KY.
Just CH.
And to watch you bleed as you moan is a guilty pleasure.
However.
Music is mine.
I share her.
I dare her to steer away from me.
Is music a living being?
Yes.
As long as I'm doing her.
However.
There is magick.
Magic.
Magick.
Machiq.
The ruder I get, the more isolated I become.
Thus making me pussy.
Fuck pussy.
I'm smart.
Niggas wanna fight me.
Bite me.
They bit me.
Unlikely.
To like me.

I have a new flow.
Poetry in motion.
STOP SNITCHING, CHARLES HAMILTON!!!

The Illuminati knows I'm a snitch.
I told their secrets.
And there is more to tell.
I just want equality.

Still Charles.

If next year should come, I'll see you next year.
With more music.

charleshamiltonjr.bandcamp.com

Thanks a lot, Universal...
















~shout it out~

Born to be a child.

DJing has replaced masturbation.
I only want to DJ.
I don't even want to perform.
I just want to collect, flip and spin.
Literally.
It's like another way of playing the piano.
Then there's magick.
I love magick.
Weed is getting strange.
All the hard drugs take their toll on me.
Relapsing sucks.





~shout it out~

She lied.

I trusted her enough to let her be my central belief system.
Didn't second guess not ONCE.
And she lied.
Now I have no friends, no future and no hope.

Thank you, Kissee.

This bullshit ass career of mine...
Wealth or stealth, I followed my passion.
I'm not down enough to be Satan and not up enough to be an alien/Sonic.

"Stuck in the middle with you..."

SEGA, I hope your happy with your ...me.
I'm yours.
You're mine.

But, wait right there.

I had to make sacrifices for you?
I thought you were everywhere.
I didn't... I just wanted you to be more.
I wanted your respect.
This world was vacant in mind until I hit the surface.
However, force and egotistical tyranny made you flee from me.

Only someone close to you can make you hate me.
Why let her get that close?
Why let him get that close?

I let you in.
I let you in.

And you turned me out.
Then left.

Without me.

If I am mistaken and you're still here, thank you.
But I am definitely numb.
I'm not as much of a StarChaser as I thought...

I'm hearing melodies as I type this.
Too bad these melodies don't belong to me.
Scientology (read: Beyoncé) is why I sing better.
My soul is why I sing, period.
My heart is forever broken.
I wish I could love my grandmother again.





I'll be around...










~shout it out~

Co-starring.

Mental piracy and limits.
The consumption of Donuts.
Delayed thinking.
Delayed reaction(s).
You already know what I'm going to say before I say it.
What's the point of talking?
Before I believed in mental piracy, I thought I was ahead of the curve.
But no.
I became a resource of intellect.
And so many have drawn from the well.

Of all the people I diss in my music...
I might be too intelligent to get a response.
And when I do get responses, it's always the lowest blows.
That makes me wanna take it outside of music.

So I'm making a different kind of music.
I've been at war since 2010.
With these next 3-4 projects, I'm going to be CREATIVE for a change.
Perhaps it's the change in scenery.
But this doesn't feel like home.
I might be living on my own, but this doesn't feel like home.

Nowhere feels like home.

Me, myself and Dusty Fingers.










~shout it out~

Wednesday, 6 September 2017

Dr. Intricacy official lyrics


^
^
^
(verse 1)
There's something about The Darkside. My heart cannot lie. I don't want to be a part of... you guys. The masses. The social aspect of life kinda kisses my ass, and my ass isn't wet. Alright? I don't wanna be raped. I just wanna be someone ladies would date. Lately I may find myself to be attractive. But in the next second... it's just like magick. It disappears. But I'm Magic. Listen here. If I disappear, what will you listen to, peers? I don't want to be overdubbed. I want to be OverLoved. But then again, I'm over. With love. I'm done with it. All I wanna do is run shit... AND I DON'T WANNA RUN SHIT! I guess I'm done with living. (looks to The Left) That's just my life. I'm under my decision, (just) smashing my wife.

(hook)
When I come down from the Heaven I found,
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
No one is around, and I STILL feel down.
So
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
There's these pills I have to take...
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
Same ol' song from yesterday.
I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN TAKE IT...

(verse 2)
I have issues with spending. The people who I've been befriending are finding it as a possible ending. (Dear Joe...) I don't want to spend up your cash, I just find it hard for me to make things last. So... the aftermath of THAT is people don't like me being around because they have to spend. And I've been practicing not living half the sin that I've been promoting. But at the same time, I'm open and hoping that somebody can help me. With all of this shit that belts me. Whips me. Listen to me. A kiss from me is so sweet. As a matter of fact, you can OD. But I'll take that distance thing, too. The thing that makes me distance me from you. No kisses in the deep wind from me, as long as I know I can begin.

(hook)
When I come down from the Heaven I found,
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
No one is around, and I STILL feel down.
So
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
There's these pills I have to take...
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
Same ol' song from yesterday.
I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN TAKE IT...

(verse 3)
I feel like I was meant to be this depressed. I don't understand it yet. Symphonies, and a hand up the dress of The Fat Lady make(s) me that crazy. This opera is going down. And at the same time, I don't flow (as) profound; the way I used to. I like my flow now, because it's... causual. And usual. And others won't like it. They're all gonna say, "Charles, we know you're psychic. All you gotta do is say some fly shit. Get high with it. You'll probably like it more than you do now." At the same time, I'm new now. And I don't know what I knew then, so... I move into a new town. Hopefully, there I'll be safe to go in.

(hook)
When I come down from the Heaven I found,
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
No one is around, and I STILL feel down.
So
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
There's these pills I have to take...
WHERE'D THE VALLEY GO?
Same ol' song from yesterday.
I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN TAKE IT...

^
^
^
One.
Wrap.
Her.
Unwrap.
Single.
DOOM.






~shout it out~

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

It VS. The World

First of all, what is It?
To be a pronoun means you have no identity.
Or it could be the biggest compliment ever.
It would make you a situation.
A topic of discussion.
An undefined entity, honored by the English language.
However, It has become That.
A mockery.
Something to give a side-eye.

So what's that?

Now.

"It" is a wonder.
Yet so many hate It.
Say "fuck It".
If you don't like It, why fuck It?
It fucks really good.
It gets attached.

It is attached to That.
It's That.
However, That rhymes with Jack.
So when I say "THAT'S JACK!!!", know that I'm really saying "It ain't shit."

What would It be without the other It, Silver?
Would That matter without J Dilla?
Daft Punk is the Damn.
So to say "GOD DAMN" is to give it all to the female deity of SatanAndGod (SEGA).

Even if you love me, I will never have enough room in my own heart for me.
Even if I am Grandmaster Flash.
Or, for those with undeveloped frontal lobes, Grandmaster Hamilton.

It is an alien.
And there are many Its.
But It's frienemy made the other Its leave.
Look.
Niggas make TOO much noise in It's psyche and subconscious to outright diss them.
And at the end of the song, the love overpowers the perpetuated hate.

Jay-Z and I are closer than anyone can imagine.
We talk.
We've fought.
We taught each other.
Many things.
It... pardon me... may be my misunderstanding.

Melle Mel predicted my life.
I say, "I'm cool! I'm no fool."
But then I wound up dropping out of hiiiiigh school.

Pharrell was the later prophet.
I became Bobby James.

Then I drove the nail in the coffin.
With the assist to Beck, of course.

I am a Loser.

If Loser had 6 letters, I'd be Drake.

One.
Her.
Wrap.
Doom yourself.









~shout it out~

The Omen of The Roman

Romans was the 6th book in The New Testament.
6z, God thought we were gay.
Or, gaay.
We have to prove Him wrong.

So many questions.
These questions are negated by the phrase "Why ask why?"
One of The Invisible Men, George (smh), had me write a song about Justice.
Literally after I recorded my verses, the jury in the Eric Gardner trial came back with a mot guilty verdict.
I am politically bound to the fuck I have no choice but to give.
I tried to give back to my community.
I didn't do it for the sake of acclaim.
That's why I make music.
No, I wanted to be a philanthropist.
I may not act like it, but my time is valuable.
Time with me is priceless.

Maybe that's why Jimmy had me make free music.





~shout it out~

Influence the Under

Music, then love.
It's lonely, but it's all I can do.
For now.
I met someone.
Knew them for a while.
Just didn't want to lead her on.
Because it's music, then love.
But it's been a pleasure.
She's beautiful.
And midwestern!
New York girls are stuck up.
Either that, or I don't try hard enough.
But I DID try.

I made a beat tonight sampling a very difficult to sample record.
She was on the phone.
She's a muse, for certain.
I just don't want to lead her on.
Because it's music, then love.
I put so many women on a high pedestal.
Only one have I loved more than music.
And I hated her for it.

Let me dwell on that for a minute.












She could be my Mary Nintendo.
I could be John.
We could stand and have our portrait painted as I hold a pitchfork.

"But what happens when Karma...?"
-Eminem, "When I'm Gone"

My promiscuity is well-documented.
In songs, blogs, and in hearts.
Ladies, if we had sex, I actually did fall in love with you.
And, as homophobic as I am, I still love The Chrises.
Sex communicates the feelings my words aren't able to say.
My words in songs and in poetry are Eyes.

Egypt gets it.

My sobriety is in the wind.
I haven't been on my medication.
I don't want to go back.
My Thoughts are Wild, but I'm not saying Rihanna is Pharrell (or Appolonia).
Anymore.
Or publicly.

I miss Halo.
Sciryl and Kesed are always with me.
Ty'Naya doesn't understand her impact in my life.
Strangers don't kiss on the regular.
But we did.
But she, like ANY AND EVERY female, requires the love and attention I give to music.

And I can't commit.

Because it's music, then love.

I used to crush on Erykah Badu.
Her technique and range was/is impeccable.
Then again, my 3rd eye lies with these acid tabs.

I'll be okay, though.
I got my records, M•I•K•E•Y and A•M•Y.
My two laptops.

We gon make it.
We gon make it.

Because it's music.
Then love.








~shout it out~

Thursday, 31 August 2017

The Mayfield Emasculation

To my beloved 6z.
I'm sorry if I'm taking you out of your natural element.
I'm not as aggressive as I'd like to be.
Or as the job requires.
But I thank you for your patience with me.
And I hope you stick around.

I moved into my own apartment today.
An achievement.
Thank you, big brother.
I'm gonna call it a night soon.
Just wanna let the few that love me unconditionally that my heart is only open for them.

I'll be around.






~shout it out~

Wednesday, 30 August 2017

Nile diving

I might not miss New York.
It's a rough place.
But I definitely miss HchO.
For the newcomers, HchO was like my mentor in FDA.
Yes, I needed guidance, and he steered me in the right direction.
I've said my share of things about him in frustration and ...just plain venting, but he really is/was a great guy.
But yeah.
I miss him.
He guided me through my own subconscious traps (hint).
I hope I taught him some things, too.
Part of the reason The Pink Lavalamp is classic is/was because of the tracklisting.
The album virtually put itself together.
Once I told HchO what the album was about, he trusted (censored) and showed me a way to intergrate what I do on "The Outside" into everyday conversation.

Since my rhymes were written in conversation form.

I'm proud of Chimp1 and his musical process.
He's become a literal chimp with sampling.
A bit scary.
I don't want to fling mud, so I'll chalk it up to me not knowing how important I am.

I would suggest that you download When Razor Met Wrist.
Check the search engine on the blog for a link.
You will enjoy it.

Also, please support my Bandcamp.
This is my SOLE SOURCE OF INCOME.
And I worked very hard on each of the projects.
Some would say, "too hard".

charleshamiltonjr.bandcamp.com




GO!












~shout it out~

Tuesday, 29 August 2017

What you won't do for love...

So my luck with women is (finally!) changing.
I'm not a player, but I am talking to a few different ladies.
Sue me.
I'm single.
But I do have a MUSICAL bond with one.
However, it's a war between Trap and Traditional (Egyptian) Boom Bap.
She can spit, but she's being pressured to do so over Trap.
And likes it.

And I'm Charles Hamilton.

We have an agreement.
I'll do one trap album (with her) and she'll do one BoomBap album with me.
This could be special.
Or a conspiracy.

Stay tuned.




"Said Eminem, you can't fuck with me, if you wanted tooooooo..."
-Charles Hamilton, "Forgot About Dre freestyle "





Dr. Dre was and is ahead of his time.







~shout it out~

Sunday, 27 August 2017

She wants to move


^
^
^
She wants to fuck.
I see our future in her eyes.
The meds make it difficult to drink like I used to.
She drinks like there's no tomorrow.
It's painfully obvious someone else has her heart.
But she gives me her body.
Should that count for something?

I could wait, wait wait.
But she's never coming.
Back.
To me.
I got back in the spotlight to get her attention.
Too late.
She's more than a doctor.
She's a healer.
My mind's big mouth won't let her talk.

I've spoiled all her surprises.

The only surprise left would be if she came back to me.

I'ma let this beat play out.

Happy Sunday, StarChasers.






~i bomb atomically~

Saturday, 26 August 2017

The joys of anti-psychotics

So today, while browsing online, I stumbled across a Reddit forum talking about my new releases on my Bandcamp page.
And they were mostly negative.
The funny things is, the songs I KNEW people wouldn't like are the ones they commented on.
I'm beyond messaging people to find out what their damn problem is.
I'm confident in my new releases.
My themes and concepts have gotten more advanced, I'm better at producing, and I have an overall goal with every song I record.

I can't say the same for other MCs.

At the same time, I understand that with growth comes patience.
Something I have NONE of.
I can work on it, though.
I figure, "These white people wouldn't sign me if they didn't think I had talent."
It's just... does talent matter anymore?
I have some favorite artists who are very talented but are being withheld by their personal issues.

Oh well.
This is all just a challenge for me to make this next project my absolute best.
And "some", "most" and "a few" will not be let down.

However...

Who is music for?






#TheSocraticDoomer





Take a listen to Catholic School 6 when you get a chance.
In fact...




Here.





Niggas talkin' shit about album art as if... lol nvm.










~i bomb atomically~

Friday, 25 August 2017

Death Becomes Her official lyrics


^
^
^
(verse 1)
When your eyes close for the last time, who will be in the back of your mind? I told cats "I have a glass mind; museum style," to figure them out. But every time I figure, they always reply like "MY NIGGA!" And they give me a pound as if I'm Pablo. No Escobar. Picasso. As hard as I go, cats ought to know not to test it. But I confess. It's not a blessing. More like a curse. My behind is stressed. Then again, the blessing of which I spit is different in your eyes. Because it comes out with my eyelids closed, and my book unfolded.

(hook)
I
got
my
dirt.
I
got
my
own satellite.

You
got
my
sand.
I
want
that
and satellites.

That's right.

(verse 2)
Getting my feelings out the way real quick, I say real shit. Stay in the building. Cats can't wait to be chillin', but I'm just... great. Like Dilla. And I'm waiting for the day when Dylan could get sampled by both of us. So much for love, as we grow. So dope. Motherfuckers should know. My MO is riding close by the guys who provide the toast for I. Ready to blast. Ready to hit. Ready to exit. (in my head, I'm the shit) I'm ready to ball my fist AND FUCK EVERY LAST ONE OF Y'ALL NIGGAS UP! So get a cup. 'Cause I slit your mug. Y'all niggas really suck. Suck my dick. I build the building up. You in love with this?

(hook)
I
got
my
dirt.
I
got
my
own satellite.

You
got
my
sand.
I
want
that
and satellites.

That's right.

(verse 3)
You don't even know what I go through when I flow. My flow is so overdose. And the flow mixed with words, makes niggas virgins again. I can take the shit. Superb. Like Shang Tsung when the day's done. The virginity you've been given with my words because they're pure and they're in The Industry. And I enter thee with each word that I give to thee. So perfect rhymes are my symphony. I heard that time was dying for me. Well, I am dying to be heard! My word is golden. Like the axe of the holes that I'm poking. Microphone knows this, and it's got some holes, too! How 'bout I try to hold you...

(hook)
I
got
my
dirt.
I
got
my
own satellite.

You
got
my
sand.
I
want
that
and satellites.

That's right.












I see you, Talise.










"Modern Art!", now on sale at charleshamiltonjr.bandcamp.com .

I'll be around.











~i bomb atomically~

kit kisses.


^
^
^
I think I've shared that my first instrument was the drums.
The Drums.
I had a baby kit in my Cleveland basement.
I went really hard one day and broke it.
From there I went to the keyboard.
Haven't looked back.

This video is a preview into what next year will look/sound/feel/taste/smell like.

Legally, however, it will be a trip to get it to you guys.
So keep the faith.
Hopefully I can still get you guys this album.

And if it all goes well, it could be a free release!

Until then, I'll be around.

I see you, Ahmir.











~i bomb atomically~

Eventually...

So "cultural relevance" is what labels are looking for.
Not talent.
As believable as the statement is, it's disheartening.
You have to be attractive and relatable.

So if you're reading this blog, thank you for going against the grain.


I'm not even sure if I posted this picture before.

Whatever.

I think the desire to fit in is ...trumping the desire to be enriched and enlightened.
Those who have enlightenment are making a killing off the "numb brains", while the numb ones dictate how cool the enlightened ones are.
Once again, back to my point.
SEGA had the marketing plan.
Nintendo had the music.
Nintendo had the everyday man.
SEGA had the alien.
SEGA is like a verse (16).
Nintendo is like a hook (8).

Choose your side and stay in line, it appears.
However, there is one truth you cannot deny.
And that truth has been getting denied.
By both SEGA and Nintendo.

Okay.
I'll summarize it a bit better.
There are "some" and "most".
"Some" listen to and enjoy my music.
Their concern is getting it to "most".
But my music mocks the way "some" and "most" converse.
Example: if I get on a very pop beat, I would say some unpopular shit in a catchy tone/flow.

You won't even realize what you're saying until it's too late.

Such is how culture is defined.

It looks like The South has a grip on culture.
Which could mean bad luck for Black people.
Lest we forget what The South means to/for us.
However, The South could be a front for "some".
Thus making it more lovable to me and more painful for you.

A comment to be misunderstood by "most".

Eventually, I'll get to where I need to be (financially).
I'm in a great space creatively.
But... who will understand?
I seem to have detached myself from "some".
And "most" call me irrelevant.

So I'm making music for ...


a few.


Here is where I suggest ANY TRUE STARCHASER/CHARLES HAMILTON FAN TO EMAIL ME.
Directly communicate with me.
I have an idea.
Not sure how much money I'm gonna make, but we're gonna try.

charleshamiltonreturns@gmail.com



I'll be around.











~i bomb atomically~

Thursday, 24 August 2017

Hip-hop?


^
^
^
This is why I had no respect for veterans.
Madlib is the standard MC.
J Dilla is the standard producer.
These two are my brothers.
Whether life will accept it or not.
I love you, Jaylib.
I'm working on something to make y'all proud.
This is epic, you guys.

Shouts to Paul McCartney.

RIP John Lennon.

I'm gone.
For now.











~i bomb atomically~ 

The Fall of Eddy Guerrero

Kids, don't play with suicide.
It's not funny, your parents feel like failures and your friends will tease you.
Unless you really do it.
Then you're missed and called selfish.

It's crazy how my most personal and defensive music is causing a silent uproar, while my more inviting and offensive music is JUST NOT getting it's respect.
I've grown.
And even in offense, I was on defense.
Let's talk "Unapologetic".

Madonna, the point of the song was, whatever should happen during the playing of this song is not in my hands.
I thought we were clear on that.
Yes, I sampled "Human Nature" from Madonna.
Yes, that song was the "coming out" anthem for Black men in the 90s.
No, I am not gay.
I was calling certain people closet homosexuals.
Down low men.
They know (or might know) who they are.
When 3H (Joe Weinberger) heard the song, he IMMEDIATELY got it and sent it to DJ Skee.
Who pushed THE HELL out of the song.
Strangely, before Brooklyn Girls.

See, my music from 2006-2008 was aimed at people I knew/know.
Shots at a few Demevolist members.
Love songs to FDA girls I lusted after.
An understanding between me and FDA admin.

I never would've thought I'd be where I'm at today.
Which, in the eyes of some (not y'all), is nowhere.

I spoke to Nadia today.
We're gonna keep things platonic.
It's sad, because on days like this I miss her the most.
She really does remind me of a rainy day.

6, it's so tempting to go to God.
God, 6 is so tempting.
Did my mother have to die?
Does my father really still run things?

I don't want to battle anymore.
I say that, because some (censored) asked me to go at Gucci Mane.
I think he's talented, and yes I can interpret some lines of his as shots at me.
But battling (for me, at least) doesn't stop on the mic.
In Harlem, you step in that battle ring, you walk a fiiiiiine line.
Keep it gangsta or BE a goth.

With that said, I'm picking out targets now.
I'm not gonna diss you.
I'm gonna END you.
So again.
Watch what you say about me on wax.
I can't afford another case, so I'm just gonna (censored) you on the mic.

"Got somethin' you wanna say?!"










~i bomb atomically~ 

Bungee fungus

It is possible to put up a wall so big and for so long that you forget who you are inside.
I didn't want anyone to know who I was.
I wanted to be a combination of MF DOOM and The Gorrillaz.
You can't see me, but I can see you.
After a few regional hits and pretty girlfriends, I figured it wouldn't be so bad to be public.

Forgetting my anxiety.

Look.
I'm not throwing a pity party (a sub).
I'm telling my story.
It comes with scars.
And witnesses.
Not everyone can relate.
But God gave you YOUR OWN testimony.
Your story is your divine right.

In a way, I guess Jay was trying to say that no one's story is greater than the other.
However, if such is the case, why should we care about his story?
I guess that's the power of The Internet/social media.
You have access to everyone's story.
Actually, no guess.
That's what it is.

I find The Internet to be a blessing.
Now, you don't have to rely on the Egyptian eye for answers.

Like I do.

Tombs have been raided.
There's no telling the "one-up" people have over the ancient.
I'll just keep in touch.

My way.

And...
To address YO lard ass, it takes respect to get respect.
We've both gone through some shit, but that doesn't mean to belittle MY situation because YOURS is public.
Best of luck to you two.













~i bomb atomically~

Wednesday, 23 August 2017

My workload in your mouth.

So I have my work cut out for me for the rest of this year.
This will keep me so occupied that I won't have enough time for my... plot.
I'll elaborate on the plot later.
Or, you can just read older entries in this blog.

But, here goes.

I'm working on a 2-part series.
As well as another Catholic Illuminati-esque project.

The 2-part series is dedicated to DJs and the art of turntabling.
The other project is a left/right-wing conspiracy theory about the corresponding side.
Those on the left will learn about the right.
Those on the right will learn about the left.
And we will all be centered, as the top looks down.

You want names?

I want money.

Besides, I think I told you about AMidsummer_sNightmare.
At least I did on Facebook.

Stay tuned.
And, StarChasers, feel free to make artwork for AMidsummer_sNightmare.
Just make it gory, bloody, pink and green.

Be back later.










~i bomb atomically~

Let me see ya 1z.


^
^
^
Thanks for the love.
Of which I assume is still there.
Look.
I'm not playing with life/suicide.
I want to live.
But I find peace and calm with death.
So work with me.

Next year, only one project.
Not even loose singles.
It's gonna be worth it.
NO SET DATE.
Just stay in tune.
Stay in touch.

I'll be around.

Enjoy the new song.
I spun this in Cali late last year and they LOST IT.
I played it in Ohio last week and ...the same response.

I hope y'all dig it/me/that enough to bump this record.

I'm out.











~i bomb atomically~

Monday, 21 August 2017

The Devil's Advocate


^
^
^
What if I told you hear the same voices he hears/heard?
Maybe that's why I have to be on medication.

More details on this new project, soon.

Thank you for your patience.








~i bomb atomically~

The Conclusion of Intervention



My grandmother pretty much foiled my suicide plot.
So I thank her.
I was always wondering why she only listened to my first album ("From The Desk Of...").
She basically cracked the code.

It was a gang of suicide letters.

She had quietly been trying to intervene.
I had quietly hoped SOMEONE was trying to intervene.
I don't want the feeling of being suicidal.
I'm trying to do something about it.
It doesn't bring me joy to hurt myself anymore.

Then, there's the desire to know God.
Or The Creator.
Creation is a mystery, though it's ever-present.

These are the thoughts I bear, going into my next project.

Is suicide no longer an option?
Depression was never for attention.
In fact, I shun the attention I get.
I'm Steve Nash with attention.
I put SEGA first, then music, then magick, then money.
SEGA is set, I'm considered a legend, I acknowledge the power of magick.

Now it's time to get paid.

I have to cut some people off, apparently.
They think they know me.
When someone has to reiterate the fact they know you, they're trying to hold on to the image you allowed them to have of you.
In my case, there's a chance you might know me VERY well.

What are you going to do about it?
Shit.
What am I going to do about it?









~i bomb atomically~