Speaking of my 3 loves...

Recorded and released, MOMENTS ago.

Let's go, New York!

I miss you, Cleveland!

I love you, LA!!! (FUCK! is it too soon?)

not this shit again.

~Jr.~

Still not a player...

So there are 3 beautiful women in my life. All of whom have been here since day one. Beyond it, even. The first one I met as an infant. She was so peaceful, and all I could radiate was loud music. The best of it, might I add. Still, this isn't about my ability to project music/sound. This woman had a heart like no other. She was my quilt, long before I felt a blanket. Everything about her made everyone around her love and love better. 

Keep such in mind.

The second one was always rough around the edges. From an early age, I learned not to get on her bad side. Though that side was what turned me on about her. From an early age, might I add. I never took her snapping (in any context) as anything less than lessons. Don't betray her. Don't insult her. Don't try to outshine her. Yet she begged and begs to be represented by the best of them.

The third one was always a fantasy. Like, a direct fantasy. I met her so late in my life that I lost the gumption to tell her HOW MUCH of a fantasy she is. She doesn't accept mediocrity, but but can be charmed by the minimal. Yet there is a dark(er) side to my fantasy lady: she's in a gang. Which one, doesn't matter. With all due respect and honor to the reputable street gangs. She's in that life. And she can be taken out faster than an "I love you".

Now. Family trauma led to a grueling separation between my first and I. Such trauma made #2 more of a villain than she could've imagined. And I'm shaking the cobwebs off to face an everyday with tres. But I'm sticking it out. I'm right here, until you say to move. And I won't stop you as you walk on by. 

I just want a guaranteed plate whenever I pop up at your dwelling.

See? Still not a player!

blogging is cheering me up. I won't overdo it tho.

~~CH~~

Dead in

 Dead inside

Dead outside

I dead don’t wanna go outside.

I overwhelm by myself, inside.

I am very lonely.

Not crying for help.

I wish I never put my hands on *drKiwi*. Her affection is needed right now.

Why am I so depressed? I have my music, I have fame… I can’t feel the joy I have. I’m hurt by the slightest joke. I hate how sensitive I’ve gotten. I am ALL ABOUT LOVE. I lyrically left Jay-Z alone. I honor Eminem though innovation. I use my soul for Dilla. I’m not wrong.

StarChasers, I’d hate to let you down. But I am obsessed with death. God is working on me.

I don’t wan to cry for help. I gotta do this on my own.

^
^
^
~~CH~~

Unfeeling

Let me get to the point, early. I just tried to carve (a pyramid) into my arm, and everything felt horrible. Tragically horrible. I reached a depression that legislatively led to carving. Not suicide, not flirting… I just wanna carve right now.

But the pain paralyzed me. The deeper I seeped the blade, the worse I hurt. 

I tried y’all. I fought with every fiber in my being to NOT pick up the blade. But it feels pointless now. Is it the meds? I used to have a high pain tolerance. I felt my inner baby hurting. That’s what made me stop. I wanna take this time to thank GENUINE StarChasers. Y’all should’ve came to mind (for me) when o grabbed the blade.

The Bipolar Sunshine has apparently stopped working. My downtrodden mood is literally taking over. Please bear with me. I mean no harm. I just bear pain I never thought… too much.

Father God (in the name of Jesus), show me how to deal with this anvil dropped on my back. You know my heart.

Meds are kicking in HEAVY. I’ll be on later

(written a day ago)

nothing is cheering me up.

%CH. PeacePeace, yall…

Dead "isn't she"(...lovely...)

You know I can brag about you, right? Not that I bodied you, though the sex was career defining. Not that you're the baddest feline to ever be in the studio (with me). But that I can introduce you to the world at large, free of cost, with no emotional taxation. 

Maybe a little, seeing as how we have children.

Shit, both o' you Beanstalks, Jack!

lol lil Illuminati humor.

Anyway, I started work on a project similar to another unreleased joint. Both of which go by the name #CharlesHamilton. These might not hit the website, however. And/or if they do, it's in a different capacity. The #cHam era is over, and you only got dosages of it. It was awesome. I feel really in tune with Harlem (!) after dooinit. Like they really call me cHam out there. And spell it like that, too! Yo... I mean Max, Jim, the Harlem Superstars, ...they still be on the block. To be on the block WITH A NAME? NO DRAMA?? Chill. That's a privilege. A lot of cats try to come to the block (be it Lenox, 7th, 8th, ...they leave Broadway and the east side alone) and think they have status just because the rest of the world knows them (in some capacity). No. You are the sweetest sweet potato pie Manna's could cook up. All it takes is a space in between you and the streets and you're WASHED.

I never was a blockhead (unless on Broadway). They knew me, it was always love, but whenever I was outside, I was on a mission. Whether get to church on time to play the organ, get to an audition, ...even when battling throughout the city (BX stand UP! Bates! Brooks!), I never stopped to peep the scenery. I had somewhere to go, and likely it involved money. You don't need to know what's in my pockets, I ain't askin you for the time, I'm not wearing their colors (even though pink is a color for OG Bloods; sorry Cam, sorry Snoop), I WANT NO SMOKE. It's safe to say I fear New York City. And with good reason. I HAVE SEEN SOME SHIT. I even tried to intervene once, and niggas almost bit my head off. I fell back PERMANENTLY over that.

Anything can happen in The Big Apple.

Including a championship!!!

Now, ordinarily I would've rooted for The Cavs. But after they won a ring with LeBron, their championship quest seemed miniscule. Y'all niggas got a post-2010 ring. Yes, niggas wanna see if you can do it WITHOUT BronBron, but that doesnt trump The Knicks GRINDING to get where they are now. If you can't respect the Finals appearance, your whole perspective is wack. Wemby IS a big bitch, tho. And he's a sniper from 3. The Knicks MUST play physical in the paint, to open trey opportunities on O and TAKE THAT BIG BITCH OUT on D (pause). 

May the best team win, but NEW YORK IS IN THE HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And y'all were in my apartment, too.

Remember?

#TBDR

She isn’t dead.

Don’t kill her.

As killer as she is, she has heavy anxiety about being… in the forefront.

Despite being God.

Anyway, I am o the creative mind to ABORT my John Nintendo 2.0 collection. I recorded at least 20 joints for it, just to see if I dig the vibe. Though the bars are up to par, the character is too far out of my spectrum of being. The production is ahead of the curve, not to sound pretentious. I’m excited about these beats one day being heard.

The only outstanding project/penname I have lined up is #TheBlackDrRobotnik. NOTHING BUT BEATS for then, and #cHam is a good starting point for #TBDR. cHam, to be expected (for) later this year.

Evil is exhausting. You gotta remember details, can’t fear karma, …you gotta be willing to hold on to some shit, only to bear the fear that the vengeance you seek won’t even be worth it. To some, it’s totally worth it. Shit, I put a couple curses on *drKiwi* in my day. And they worked! But then karma threw it in my face like “Look what you did!”. So, though I dwell in darkness, I allow the light of God to shine through me.

That said, this bitch brings out the Satan in me, IN EVERY WAY FATHOMABLE! 

Can’t help but love her anonymous ass…

~cHam#widdit~

The Beautiful Way To Die

 The beautiful death of which Ye speaks of. 

I already spoke you into #THQz existence ("...HERE!, with you..."). For a while. Like a while, a long while Beloved. I grew from where I was on day one, and ...guess what? I'm still there. I'm just beyond the theatrics. 

You're not quite understanding me right now.
I ...I dig.

but I have your attention.

For a few seconds... let my existence rock your world.

Drake levels of Michael Jackson.

Here I am, listening to you.
In THIS form.

The form that dominates the memory of #The3FingeredMan.

The man who introduced me to #TheGazaStrip (as far as what is coveted and what is desired).

How can you strike me for trying to be the man you made me aspire to be?
I give you your impact. Like just now and in general. Like JUST just now. Like THIS is happening.

You can't just be able to wreak havoc in my life the way you do. When I try to do it to you, you always resist. In fact, yeah. I think I'm gonna fall back.

Damn.

Here you go again.

Look

I have an apartment now. 
Circumstances being as they may be, we can finish this.

Unannounced.

At the click of this mouse, if I'm being (specifically) clear.

So I show diligence.
To your disgust.

And delight.

Once you see it my way.

Sonic's around here, too.

#cHamEra

to be exonerated...

I been biting my tongue about this whole UFO Disclosure thing. Mainly because I already revealed who the aliens are (SEGA, specifically the Hedgehogs and not excluding Tails) and... well that's it. I stand 10 toes down on Drake being an alien, despite his dirty politics and "fears". I can only tell you that J Dilla is/was an alien, as I am keeping his modern-day likeness a secret. You won't get it from me, because though I love him, I STRONGLY disagree with what's been made available about him. If you know you know. 

Beyonce's been pretty open about being Silver the Hedgehog, but she cloaked herself in Southern US politics by making a country album. Of course she can bounce back, and she'll never NOT be Silver, but she has a greater task at hand: parenthood, in the spotlight. Even if Jay and her are Mr. and Mrs. Smith behind closed doors, they are responsible for the intake of society for at least 3 growing organisms in human form. They gotta shut some shit off, shut some shit up, and/or shut some shit DOWN.

I really don't want to acknowledge the #4alienraces they provided us through media, because all it did was remind me of the 4 HUMAN races: Negro, Caucasian, Asian, Latin. Whether we like to admit it, (nigga) those are the only races you fall under. Negros and Caucasians are dukin' it out with each other for the claiming of Natives. Unless we're all #Natives and these 4 alien races have been walking the earth before this whole time...

I said a lot. Infer you must, yet there is nothing to decipher. I just wrote it well (lol). Looking ahead, expect more dissertations about what the media is saying. Sometimes I wonder, "what if Trump is ACTUALLY/REALLY doing a good job, and the media makes him look worse than he'll/we'll ever know?". With aI taking the forefront, a lot of things can be conjured up without a basis and with malicious intent. And your average consumer only looks at the headline, never the source. 

This is why I can't say Donald Trump is J Dilla.

~~#~~

Finger Pop 0fficial lyrics

(hook)

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger.
Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger

(verse 1)

Life. Go figure, it's mine. I figured it out within the time I did. Minded my business, now I do not mind shit. Literally. I'm not invasive with the P-S-Y. Just looking for some P-U-S-S-Y to be mine at some point in time. Word to S-S-Mine. Yes, it's time to escape the matrix I made for me. Breaking her slavery by breaking her backbone. Making love, in make-believe. Take it, please. Basically, the bass and T-R-E-B-L-E is on me

(hook)

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger.

Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger

(verse 2)

Life. It's what's for dinner. Ugly if you didn't get it. Pucker up if you get it. A lot of people in the ugly. But they love me for a minute. Let me break it down. It's lovely to know what you're eating every night. And people sleep within the plight of people who don't know what they're eating every night. That feeds y'all. Back-to-back. Read y'all. Defensively reading between the sheets of my noggin. Thinking out loud, indeed. Get down with me. Trying to make you proud indeed. With the sourest weed, yeah.

(hook)

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger.

Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger

(verse 3)

I wouldn't say I'm slept on. But I will say niggas had me pegged wrong. I get on a song. I get on with pain. I get on your brain and get it on with it. The next thought is a birth. Congratulations, walk this earth, knowing that I planted a seed. You got pregnant, male or female indeed! Give birth with your next sentence. Like me, if arrested again. From the most excellent chick. Of which I never got her breath again. She kept her word. And I know she kept her curves. But she's keeping the future from me...! Forget these words.

(hook)

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger.
Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Up and down, and only gravity linger.

Life is like a yo-yo on my finger

^
^
^
I am a 2-time ex-felon. And a very special woman said if I go to jail again, she will never speak to me again. Other than that, I'm doing just fine living on my own!

Fuck jail.
Free Rama.

##CH##

In Effect 0fficial lyrics

 

Columbine Gang. 

Get down till there's NO... ground to get under, to get underground, to get to the ground. Get the floor. 

(verse 1)

Give up the law. Get up the wall. Climb that ladder. It happens to be what happens to be when you don't climax at a badder chick than the chick I had, and I called her average. Your average chick gets pissed at my existence, because I "make them hips switch." They go from pissed and ballistic at the nature of men, to being the ballistic hater. Spraying them. Talk the action. Different genders. Charles imagined this was #Splenda. Some shit to get down with. With a chick in mind... mind the distance, please. I mind my business. At ease. Happily free from all of these things. But married to a beat that isn't mine. Breaking it down. There's no spine. Time to love me sometimes, yeah. 

(hook)

Greed is in effect!

Vanity is in effect!

How to *B* is in effect!

How to *C* is in effect!

Who's livin' it up?

(verse 2)

Aimed at no target. Bullets are hard because of speed. Sonic the Hedgehog. Looking across the streets, at everybody dead and gone. I'm blasting the glock, babe. Don't get mad. I want the top, hey. And if I'm not in your mouth, lyrically, I'ma be in your house spiritually. Fuck your couch because it mirrors me. It got ya ass all over it. Please don't sober the kid. Like I said, going ballistic when I'm holding the pistol, throwing a Kip at niggas. Kipps Bay! A grip away from showing you what mo's and even sicker and quicker. I dove in the liquor elixir. Implanted by Kendrick. Skip the generation to face me. Skip the penetration. Okay, b?

(hook)

Greed is in effect!

Vanity is in effect!

How to *B* is in effect!

How to *C* is in effect!

Who's livin' it up?

(verse 3)

The only nigga in the 'Hood getting stigmatas. God, I live proper. I live modest. I don't mind the pain. Can I get a little gain? You know, like Distortion. Empty out the game like Drano. All up in the sink with my Hell. I bring it to you well. And wash the dishes. Off ya noggin if you're talking shitznit. Awkward isn't it? The way I just stalk motherfuckers; leave 'em all in penmanship... of which existed. But not now. I been knocked down Donnie McClurkin. Get right back up, nigga. Tyson. Never been knocked out. Brawled a lot. I talked a whole lot of shit. But I go off the biscuit, nodding/sipping... how do you do it? Especially when the powder in the booth's what I'm missing. Make a difference. Make it a vibe. Make it a scripture. Make it in your own behind. Motherfuckers. 'Cause I own.

(hook)

Greed is in effect!

Vanity is in effect!

How to *B* is in effect!

How to *C* is in effect!

Who's livin' it up?

Shouts to 9th for making joints like this, where I can just get some pain off.

~~###~~

Greatest Hits?

I've been going back and forth with this for a while. Prayer, meditation, exercise... all the above, implemented before even speaking on this.

In 2012, I pretty much denounced my 2005-2011 music. I didn't really explain it too much. I'll do it here. I feel that I minced too many words in my written songs. The things I wanted to say, I let magic convey. The subconscious, is better the phrase. I let my/your subconscious relay whatever message it was I was trying to get across with writing.

I always toyed with the idea of being a Satanist. I grew up in a Pentecostal household, and went to Catholic school. This fine line I walked led to mass confusion/conclusions drawn about who I am/was. 

Music recorded without being previously written both drew a line in the sand and eroded the line. I tapped into every Luciferian fantasy, the imagination of Beelzebub and ACTUALLY RECORDED IN THE PRESENCE OF THE DEVIL. I may have been under horrific conditions, but I had comfort.

Come to find out, that comfort is God's love.

Now what do I do? 

I can't just turn away The 3 *drKiwis*. I'm not all the way sold on Hell's Belles. I'm too private for both Heaven and Hell. 

Another one of my closer StarChasers asked me if I'm going to denounce my 2012-2024 music, in the name of God/Jesus. I don't know if I can. If they know my heart, they know why I #ran to The Darkside. It's almost obvious isn't it? Tap in with The Devils, get a free security guard? 

I knew and know what I was doing.

It's for you.

As long as you have a beating heart, nothing can beat you to death (except death itself).

The least able of the Planeteers controlled heart.

Without it, do you think Capt. Planet would survive?

I appreciate the concern. Just pick up whatever jewels come with the journey and build yourself up.

I'll catch up.

witchya fast ass asses!

#CH

A StarChaser’s concern

 

The other night, I went manic and transcribed A LOT of my music, from the last 10 years. And didn’t explain a bar. Just exuding confidence, one would assume. Wouldn’t you know it?, the notion of mass publishing my lyrics concerned a StarChaser. They didn’t go too in on the “diagnosis”, they just know that late nite shadows trigger me.

He was right though. I was in my bag when I found the D12 “Just Like U” instrumental, and started scraping when I thought to add that picture as the song’s background (for YouTube). As much mystique as the *drKiwi* possesses, she was a good church girl. I shouldn’t have cheated. I was just depressed about the news of “Hamilton, Charles” not making me any money. In fact, no excuses. I should’ve been man enough to express to *drKiwi* that I needed more attention/affection. At the same time, her devotion to God went further than her need for a companion. In other words, she would feel guilty about the fucked up shit we did in bed together.

I almost want to lol about it.

But that little girl? That girl is my heart. Just an orb of light and spirit. Love her to death. She knew another man was her father, but she asked *drKiwi* if I could be her real dad one day. It brought both of us to our knees.

I see you, Dr. Dre.

You’re always on time.

And thank you, #AnonymousStarChaser. You already mean the world to me (just by being here), and your spot is solidified. All you did was further fuel my desire to be the best me I can be. Funny, because my dad used to preach the same core values (be the best you that you can be). Seems like I’m indoctrinating StarChasers into being…….

Hamiltonites?!

~~***~~

Heart No More 0fficial lyrics

 (Verse 1)

Facing the blues. Making the music to face the blues to. Face the music, I said. They told me to make the music to face the music... to. Like "...be murdered by". You could be murdered by me on the mic, but it's peace. See how I'm bleeding from the heart to give peace? Seeing the start of it was music, I go back to what I was doing. And I'm bleeding in the palm of my hand, heart beating on and on again. So I'm speaking on what got me bleeding from the beginning, which is the peace I offer to begin with. A sentence, living in it, until I'm winded. You dig? 

(Hook)

I have an emergency. 

I can't feel my heart no more. 

All I have is my mind, you see? 

And I can feel it walking out the front door. 

Yeah. 

(Verse 2)

I kind of lost it. Her vagina in the faucet. Dipping from my chin, kissing it again and again. She licked it off my tongue. She's with it. "Charles, you the one!" I dig it. Charles Hamilton, on a sink with a chick who needs to begin drinking. I got your back until the end. Sipping like a reptilian. Yes, till the end. My weapon says it's effervescent, so anybody coming around has yet to see the end. And their destiny will be met. For you, though. Musical judo. If you don't roll, sue you. 

(Hook)

I have an emergency. 

I can't feel my heart no more. 

All I have is my mind, you see? 

And I can feel it walking out the front door. 

Yeah. 

(Verse 3)

Collective Soul, where do I want this lecture to go? To the top of the toes. And whoever knows that I got the flow to make it all come through. An awesome move. Come chill with me, while I build. For real, the scene is type ill. You'll feel me. You'll feel mean. And we'll feel mean together when we believe these other MCs and producers are in tune with true shit. I wish we could do what we do with to. Too official. Baby, I'm moving with you. Not even moving, but who's the issue? Spiritual. 

(Hook)

I have an emergency. 

I can't feel my heart no more. 

All I have is my mind, you see? 

And I can feel it walking out the front door. 

Yeah. 

^

so mote it be.

#CH