[Enter the Hamilton.]

(verse 1)

As I lose my censorship... same time, I lose my penmanship... same time, I lose my pin... men ship... at the same time, I'm just lost it all. Three strikes and I'm... at the line. Base is whatever I'm high with. Facing forever, the assignment. Never is it better, though. Better get it together! And Quickly. Officer Quimby. They getting to me again. The sweetest sin, the sweetest scent. Missing from me. Misinformation. Can I get it? Can I get it, for free?

(hook)

It was all me.

Then it was all she.

Now it's all *we*,

and she don't want no more.

I'm sorry.

(verse 2)

Please forgive me.The deepest sympathy. I can't give a reason. I deserve a hit, indeed. At the same time, I'm consider perfection. Disturbed perfection. Rose from concrete. Got a discreet way of being what I'm peace-ing. Each being wanna see this. No other reason. Just to be it. Wanna BE the definition. I see it's never listening. Whatever you see from here, let it agree from here. I bring peace to here. Wherever I be, it's sincere.

(hook)

It was all me.

Then it was all she.

Now it's all *we*,

and she don't want no more.

I'm sorry.

(verse 3)

Watch your greed. Nothing's stopping me. Juxtaposition. I just want you to listen. Adjust to my listening.

My ways are different now.

I think SEGA's different now.

The way I view it, ...no PPV. A different view. Who can see? Who can say? Trying to dis-spew a different -splay. No dissing. You don't listen. No kidding. You won't get it.

(hook)

It was all me.

Then it was all she.

Now it's all *we*,

and she don't want no more.

I'm sorry.

^
^
^
You know who you are. I still get the shakes from how I treated you. Just know that such is not in my nature, and that you drove me wild. All apologies.

#CzH#

My heartbeat.

^
^
^
Hopefully, you read the post about your return.
I'm excited to have you back.

Much has changed.

Love comes from a dry heart.

Water is for tears.

My love comes from a dry heart.

My heart.

I bled my heart dry in your name.

I am willing to follow the deception.

I enjoy your war scars.

They compliment my battle talk.

My tongue is scarred from said battle.

Your scars make you sexier.

If, when, it.

~!Jr.!~

Darralyn 0fficial lyrics

(verse 1)

I am the kind of love that Wyclef reminded your mama not to worry about. Worrying. Worrying out of my mind is you hurrying out of the house. Upstate. Westchester. Shower. Devoured by the jester. Chester Cheeto. Ego infested by a coward. Eisenhower. Hi. The Tower. Deep as it gets. I read you. You read in my mind. I see that it fits. As good as it gets. A reason to be... an actor. Collect the paper. Stack a wrap. Stacker 2. Get in shape and get them away, no matter what the attitude is calling for. Attitude is calling for more grooves! Back to... whew!

(hook)

Darralyn, darlin'...

You got me carryin' on!

O, I made you wanna holla!

Fit in to my life.

You make me wanna holla!

But this just is not right...

(verse 2)

Trouble Man is an troubled man. Trouble Man is a martian. Marvin. Smoothest brother. What a muthafuckin man! What a brother! Not a brother. A Gothic muthafucka. Lookin for Rih Rih, so I can make love to my pee pee. Being easy, since there is no level lower or higher than The Devil. You gotta drop low to see the pain you feel. "Not so!", says the game for real. But... then they say you should stay still... get right with me. And as you see, I try to live sorta light-eously. Righteousl-... right to B... right to C... right to... you alright with me?

(hook)

Darralyn, darlin'...

You got me carryin' on!

O, I made you wanna holla!

Fit in to my life.

You make me wanna holla!

But this just is not right...

(verse 3)

Sleep. Good night. I keep you tight under the sheets. The secret, I would like to leak. You keep me inside. TMI. I am not on TMZ. Like running for president; "am I?" Question mark, in the middle of my hand. I am my ammo. Columbine Gang, and you happen to come to school that day. Go away, go away! You are... in the midst of where I don't want to play. Sidewalks (are) gray. So is my bubble coat. Pants, blue. Hands of a dude not making me handsome. I am not... Luke. Cyber. Look... you. Fire. Inspired, now I got to ret-... Father, come and kill me.

(hook)

Darralyn, darlin'...

You got me carryin' on!

O, I made you wanna holla!

Fit in to my life.

You make me wanna holla!

But this just is not right...

^
^
^
Somethin' about FDA love, man...

~!Jr!~

Here she is…

Many people have cited the absence of *drKiwi* as the first sign of my downfall. I may agree. Well, we spoke today. We’re getting closer and passed the hang up’s of before. She was good to me, I was good to her. Thing is, I sinned against women. And Jamaica, if we’re being ambiguously honest (figure it out).

But as the conversation rolled on, my homoerotic brick wall crumbled, and I was back in puppy love with…

Simone Porter.

We talked about everything. The rise and fall of us, our influence, justice, rage, copycats… she’s still as sharp as ever. She just doesn’t write anymore. Shit, neither do I. Sidebar, I may get back into writing full time. It’s a feeling. Back to regularly scheduled, I can’t front like I’m not under her control. She has a swag that consoles you as it puts your lights out. I’m not even thinking about sex. I can’t handle sex with anyone at this point. I CAN, however, trust Miss Porter.

I don’t want to be like this. Love shouldn’t motivate my life this way. I’m dependent on love. I’m gonna rock these shows, for the love of Dre and Leroy. I’m gonna get fly, for the love of Porter. I already don’t harm myself for the love of YOU.

I imagine Sun Ra being critically suicidal. To imagine what a piano can do, OUTSIDE of playing melodies, is a task for the human mind. The nigga had an orchestra (Arkestra, rather). He probably couldn’t get the music out of his body fast enough.

I love you, Miss Porter. But you know that.

Let time be the judge of what we already put into The Universe…

I know. Briana. But she was post-Porter and… yeah. I guess I need a shot like that rn…

#CzH

She Smiled (For Once) 0fficial lyrics

Back outside...

Back outside.

(verse 1)
I'm not a scrub. I got a love that drives. Lets me sit on the passenger side. My glove provides (all) the love she rides with. I'm a lucky guy! I don't have to drive! I'm a master, on the passenger side... "...show me a good time!" So silly, am I... really, I define the Air. I am here, the pioneer of the five-plus-one. I be The One. ...that makes Seven! ...Five is like Six, and Six is forever. Sixes forever. Get it together. Mind my business for pleasure. Still, I get it in, on no measure!

(Hook)
I walk around neutral
I walk around on cruise control.
You make my life... unusual.

In a good way!

You... make my life...

Beautiful

(verse 2)
The flow is an Eleven. Didn't know that it was heaven. Reach me! I beseech thee! I smite thee, Almighty! I be trying to commit blaspheme on the mic. Ask for me, on the mic. Write down why. When your brown eyes lay down as I define my... recognition/resurrection/a better listen/a better lesson whenever this is the effort gevin...given, pardon. You're living with the Harden of rhyming. So retarded-ly raise your thighs, make it mine. I mean it's too damn indiscrete to be seen but... maybe I can't take it away... baby, I made a mistake! Save me with Grace... one of these days, okay? I'm a boss, and you know... it's kind of hard for me to stroke without you... I won't doubt you... you know I'm all about you.

(Hook)
I walk around neutral
I walk around on cruise control.
You make my life... unusual.

In a good way!

You... make my life.

Beautiful

(verse 3)
A slew of things, by me doing things. I be truly singing to the wind with my whispers. Whispers are psychic, I know. The Wind blows it so many times, it's pyrotechnic! 4th of July!, every time you start the lie... when the stars divide and let Charles be silent to the thought of violence in his mind being awesome, having ratings.

What am I dating?
A monstrosity, I believe,,,

(Hook)
I walk around neutral
I walk around on cruise control.
You make my life... unusual.

In a good way!

You... make my life.

Beautiful

#cHam

The Muse’s Beauty

My first album was written in deep depression. As I finished it, I ended up in a relationship with a BEAUTIFUL Jamaican girl. It changed my perspective on the music I was making, but it was too late. An album full of suicide letters was born, without real experience of what life can bring (albeit personal tragedies).

That momentum pushed me to album number 2. Super confident (because I got a girl), super creative, but developed a bond with melancholy music.

Ahh. Music.

The muse of all muses.

It’s safe to say that every song is a love letter to music. For better or worse, till death do us part. I get ugly (w/my fine ass) when it comes to music. From keeping coughs and belches to only recording one take, I literally build the gumption necessary to say what I wilt and put it all on the line. Rivera saw it. Tony New sees it every time we record. Portals… astral projection… doom force… Hell… Heaven… Harlem… Egypt. Space.

I go there.

Music is my muse. Music gives me the courage to explore. Can’t say I’m a coward, I just defuse more than engage in combat. Though some niggas only learn through physical means. God got my defense. Even if I make a song to another (love song, diss track, etc.), it’s done with love. And not blind or vacant love. Like I love music. To express it is to open my chest and bleed gore onto whatever you’re reading this with.

To do that would be to make another song.

Expect a downpour of Hamiltunes.

It’s Charles Hamilton.

In arm’s reach

Things have changed. As of 2025, I am no longer managed by Jr.CORP (self). The trial run was amazing, but I couldn’t break through the way I need to.

I am now being managed by two long-time and trusted businessmen, Leroy Benros and Andre Stancil. Leroy handles the boardroom, Andre handles media.

For professional inquiries, hit THEM up at Leroy.benros@gmail.com and andrestancil1@gmail.com.

We’re doing things a bit different this time. Even The Browns win a game.

That’s Leroy w Badu.

If charm wasn’t enough this go-round…

-so mote it be

The Talented... strikes!(ikes!ikes!ikes!ikes!ikes!)

Seeing as how I am without a deck, I'm low key panicking about the future. One is in reach, but moments like these when/where I get ideas for transitions and blends that I realize how addicted I've become to Turntablizm. I have DJ'd in public before, so I'm not so much a Bedroom Beethoven, as I am a musician who spends ALL his time perfecting one's craft.

And I want to do it more than I already do.

HOWEVER...

I can honestly say that even though The Pink Lavalamp lives to see another day and will live forever (November 10th, baby!), it is not immune to The Talented Mr. Hamilton! As dead ass as TPL is, it's not so grave that I can't have fun with it. I became a slave to it for YOU. There would be no "My Brain Is Alive" without TPL. But The Pink Lavalamp couldn't've occurred without Sober Karaoke. And I cheered the fuck up from "From The Desk Of..." at my expense. seez/!! See? That's my mental health. I downplay potential blessings from self and others because I feel I don't deserve it.

Let me work on that.
and I don't have much time.

Somethin' new...

Can one pray for a Wiccan?

#CH

“I heard a kiss from you…”

Today, I:

-rode the exercise bike (breath control is HORRIBLE)

-practiced 11/10 set (not bad, but I want to have someone here to watch)

-writing this blog entry

-listened to potential singles from music on my website

-spoke with Dre the Manager; he mostly handles the day to day

-prayed and meditated

It seems to me that I handle my business so rapidly that I have nothing to do with my day and life. I guess I can call Jackie!, but she’s not all the way single yet. We both kinda rushed in this thing, not really having much other than music to hold onto.

Could be another love TKO.

And I feel like shit trying to go Keith Sweat my way back into Simone’s graces.

Let’s go digging…!

#CH

Thickassdaphne (Heartbreaker) 0fficial lyrics

Ungh.

Come on.

I might be sinless but my mind is full of sin.

(verse 1)

Not what I'm looking for. I got what I'm looking for. Getting top from a Brooklyn whore. "Write a lot!", in my book. Some more, after. But the disaster is the Brooklyn chick isn't here. I look within to get clear. Who could I like? Who would I love? A Latina with long hair or a bald black chick? She got a Caesar but she's thick. She probably a pleaser, Jesus! Just on a three second flick I knew that she'd get the recklessness I spit, you dig? She want a piece of me, from a distance. A Modern Lacey, but kind of crazy. I miss Miss, from a distance. Can you get this?

(hook)

Somebody take her!