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I can't stop, y'all. I been lacing y'all with content (I hate that word) all day. And with the way my body feels, no signs of stopping. And I can feel my body shutting down as we speak (lol how ironic).

As you go through my blog, look for the "0fficial lyrics" to songs. Official, spelled with a zero. Now. As you read the lyrics, take note of the #letterplay. Yes, the wordplay is there. But the letters in each word... not only rhyme, but connect to the context and tell a story by themselves. As I'm recording, it seems chaotic. But once the song/album is done and I let them cool off, it all comes together.


I acknowledge the power of magic.

It's everywhere.



#comma

"One more thing! One more thing!"

Remember that commercial where the mom overdressed the son for winter time? I think it was K-Mart or something...

anyway...

I also encourage listeners to transcribe (write down) my lyrics as you hear them. The whole song. Reason is, you can easily turn my bars into spells and curses. Though they are full words and sentences, you can spell the words funky and make legitimate magic.

For example:

"Isn't it one of the biggest bitches you have ever seen? Yokozuna!"


can turn into...


"Izzni twun uvda biggstb itchs uwav ev rsee nyo kozu na!"


You can define it your way. 


#TheHamiltonLanguage







#comma

Sense Less


3rd Eye = between your eyebrows

4th Nose = the tip of your nose

5th Ear = the bottom of your right ear

6th Sense = the bottom part of the center of your chest



Get in tune with yourself, now that you know where everything is. 
You will "find out and see" that my music is meant to titillate each.




I'm done for now. So one for now.














#comma 

Moment of Clarity

So, to not belabor the point, I switched my style from writing streams of thought to Wax Poetry. What is Wax Poetry? According to Google, “Wax poetic” is an English phrase that is used to describe someone's overly flowery and longwinded style of speech. If one person waxes poetic on a subject they're spending too much time on it and using diction that's likely not suited to the situation. 

But let's break in down.

In hip-hop, wax means "on record". Vinyls are made of wax (if they're not Sonic the Hedgehog himself; grrr...). Diss tracks were immediately pressed to vinyl after they were recorded, in an attempt to make money off the beef (lyrical war). When you "keep it on wax", you're making sure that the tough talk in a diss track isn't going to spill into the streets.

We all know what poetry is.

I now spit (and record) overly flowery and longwinded poems, aimed at particular subjects. I also add positive affirmations in my music, such as good health, wealth, happiness, etc., and manifest them through magic. 

The key to it is the fact they are RECORDED. As it records, I KNOW the mic is picking up my premeditated (yet unwritten) thoughts. The live recording is WRITING the lyrics/sound in the computer. This is easier and best done on GarageBand. Once recorded, I add my LITERAL magic (the main spell I casted is called "Forget Me Nots"), mix it so EVERY WORD can be heard, and print it. The beat is already mixed.

I want to put y'all onto something. There is a genre of music called Hardcore. It's FAR from hip-hop, TOO hard to be pop, and too dangerous to be mainstream. One of the most famous Hardcore acts is named Scooter. Triggering. But they are GIFTED. Basically, they travel into songs (like me) and CHANGE THE ORIGINAL RECORD, COMPLETELY. Some of their tactics are despicable, but the outcome is WORSHIP READY. I think Carl Cox does it too (legendary UK DJ/producer). ANNA, another potential Hardcore producer, uses electricity in and of itself. A man's (ahem) job, but she does it and does it well.

The production of Hamilton, Charles is Hardcore. If you ever find the original sample, it's a wrap for you.

Jay-Z has a line where he says, "I mastered my aesthetics. I know you often heard me wax poetic 'Bout bein' back in the Lexus But trust me, that was nothing...". He's onto me.

I recommend all those with broken hearts and open Bibles to buy a Macbook, open GarageBand, put in a select Charles Hamilton instrumental (any era) and just GO. 

Nothing more to say.





Stardust can be found here.
And to find other artists with a similar technique, click here.

Remember, remember, the 5th of November.

And forget not November 10th!







#comma


Medication and flashbacks

If you saw my RedBull documentary, you probably know the big memory that's fucking with me this morning. No need to rehash. But yeah. I'm triggered with memories.

Being a rape victim makes being a father to a boy SO MUCH HARDER. I'm sensitive to EVERYTHING said, EVERYTHING is an allusion, EVERYONE is tougher. And kids nowadays are super cruel. I can teach him how to box, but I fight dirty. I can take him to a gun range, but I fear that he will one day turn it on himself (if not me first). I can give him advice on the ladies, but I suck at relationships. All I can do is explain myself and hope he understands one day.

OH! And then, there's music.


Check out Prodigal[.], my take on Lupe Fiasco's "The Cool" album. Basically, Michael Young History comes back from the dead to attend his son (of whom he's never met; he died before he was born)'s graduation. I personally sent it to Lupe. He knows why. I would further explain, but The Devil is in the details.



Expect transcripts soon.









#comma


Place mints.

Shout out to Apollo Brown. I'm listening to his latest instrumental album. I plan to post a link to the YouTube playlist at the end of this entry. But yeah. I had to remind myself how depressed I really am. I can't believe I put my hands on a woman. Especially a woman I planned a future with. I have very little money to my name. My connects in the business aren't the same. I'm TOO tempted to try Fentanyl. My teeth are tragically stained. Though it's not a complaint, my grays are coming in at a high rate. I walk funny, due to having glass in one foot and a mouse bite on the other. My singing voice is dwindling due to cigarettes. My turntable deck isn't working, along with my software not working like it did just a month ago.

All these things I can fix myself. But my spirit isn't willing to. I just want to make music, blog and take pictures. However, I realized something...


God loves me!


I don't plan to take God's love for granted. I'm not even sure if I should acknowledge God's love. I'm a damn Devil! On that topic, I spoke with Splash recently. I was able to help him out of a jam. He doesn't know how far down I've sunk. I really am struggling with keeping myself motivated. I tried to record "Stardust" today, and passed out. Some albums, like "The Left Turntabl", are charmed. Meaning, I'm doing The Devil's dirty work by recording them. Meaning, it's not my energy that's needed. And I felt it today. I was BARELY able to make it to dinner. And dinner sucked, by the way.

Yo. I hope to inspire with all that I do. Take notes on the falters, celebrate the highs. I don't slave for hours on my MacBook just to be laughed at, with not return on investment. I'm turning 36. Most folks would've quit at 24, with the career I've had. I may have stepped back, but I never stopped making music (or writing poetry/blogging). I always find a way to express the Gothic angst of a Black male misunderstood.


Is it still all good?



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If you don't *no*, now you *know*...




#comma

From the grave to the... cloud.

Resurrection of the Mixtape Rapper


Aquafina Dreamer: The Mixtape


Fear and Limitations


I think you know what to do with the underlined.




Knowing that you listen to my music saves my life. I thank you. I have no plans to stop, but if I do, know that I'm still thinking about music. And you.


All of you.


Thank you.









#thephenom!!!

Boosted Tolerance 0fficial audio

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One of my favorite unreleased songs. Pretty much every question is answered on it. I'm proud of it, and humbled by the ethereal response. The Universe likes it!

More music soon. 




#comma

Stories From The City

I'm a survivor. Thank you, Destiny's Child, for giving me a theme song that I am too guy-ish to play on my own. Still, I take pride in knowing that I survived the damndest conditions. From sexual assault to bullying to drug abuse to homelessness to fame to doom. I've been through it all. And I made it out with only self-inflicted wounds. Clap for 'em!!!

I noticed that since I started making music, I've met so many people who've had similar stories. At first it made me bitter. I thought I was special, God! But then, I realized that I am special, and that I am bringing light to people who otherwise would be lost in the darkness. That was my fuel to keep going. I can recall in 2014... I decided I would make CLASSIC ALBUMS. Undeniably classic albums. I didn't listen to what was hot, I barely listened to what I would normally listen to. I gave you ALL OF ME, on 12-14 track albums. At first, the projects didn't resonate with my listeners. I remember fighting tears, reading forums about how bad my music is. 

The initial feeling was hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred. But again, it fueled me. So by the time I signed with Turn First, I was ready to WRITE some SCATHING bars at people who I don't know personally, but had so much to say about me. Around 2016-17 I started feeling guilty, and wanted to embrace my StarChasers. Strangely, it was around then that they started giving me my flowers for my music in 2014. November 30th, 2017, I committed suicide. The Devil himself said I don't belong down there, and I was escorted back to reality. I met up with my cousin Spazzo and recorded "Resurrection of the Mixtape Rapper" and "Aquafina Dreamer: The Mixtape". "Resurrection..." is probably online somewhere. "Aquafina..." is still in the vault. I might drop it by the end of this blog entry.

Point is, let nothing stop you from achieving your goal(s). You are your only hinderance. Your doubt, your skepticism, your implosions of self... all that stops you from getting where you want to go. This I know. I'm currently in trouble for being high at the halfway house I'm at. Amber got her wish, it seems. So I'm not gonna be smoking weed for a little minute. At least until I clean my rapport here at the house and get some progress on my housing situation. Basically, I let my desires get in my way. I'm still learning. But while I'm at the bottom, my hand is up, pointing my index to above the sky.

There is no limit in life.
Only what God forbids.


Love.









#comma


Ring Pop 0fficial lyrics (with video)

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(verse 1)
My humility amounts to The Industry. That's why I'm outta The Industry. You killin' me, tryna get in it. I've been winded, trying not to rhyme with Soliloquies (Marky Soliloquy is a StarChaser from Twitter; I've been trying not to make StarChasers famous with the intentions of them ACTUALLY chasing away celebrities who aren't genuine). So put a *1* up like a Diamond. As if you're done up the night of your rhyming getting rewarded. (listen to the "Diamonds From Sierra Leone" instrumental; she says "Hold one up!") My shit is as morbid as it gets, and niggas wish me to forfeit. I'm like "Forget it". I fit in Four. Like a Figure. Go figure. These niggas want more. They got sick of Dutches. These bitches want Raw. Get mad when I impregnate they state of mind. I exit. Leaving with Em, 2. Em, 3? (M3), then I'm Jazzy (M3 is DJ Jazzy Jeff's latest album; this song was recorded around the time he dropped it). No Maybach. Just me speeding around the track, quite actually. And y'all are listening badly, waiting for the "bad" me. I get ugly with mine. Rather Medusa... sit right there! Grab your computer!

(hook)
These niggas wanted to front.
Till they found out that they under the thumb
of my Ring Pop!
Ring Pop.

Veterans had a wonderful run,
but these old niggas mad that they under the thumb
of my Ring Pop!
Ring Pop.

(verse 2)
If I said this is not off the top, I would be an actual loser. And if you didn't get it, ask for Medusa in the back of your computer. Like *drive* it *home*. Dumb it down they say... go online and know! Traveling like a Gnome. I'm known wherever I travel, but niggas wanna battle like they better. Wherever I go. So forever I flow. Like an infinite heartbeat. Y'all niggas shock me when you try to talk to me, so I rhyme off beat so you could properly jot... what I see. And if you can, then damn. I'm as damned as you. And your reaction. But in the past. You spell it out, I blacked. Have a blast. Orgasm.

(hook)
These niggas wanted to front.
Till they found out that they under the thumb
of my Ring Pop!
Ring Pop.

Veterans had a wonderful run,
but these old niggas mad that they under the thumb
of my Ring Pop!
Ring Pop.

(verse 3)
I am the Gothic Rick Moranis. Jammin' like Alanis and Brandon (Boyd) in one man, standing with a composition book in his hand. You've got to listen. Or look. If you can. You lost your mind if you can't. You must be frozen. Or stolen. Regardless... when I hiss, thy wish to get the Tigris. I go over your mind like Euphrates. You afraid of the clouds? Let me rain down. And if you're "dumb", you're still gonna have the number of *1*. The first drip could lead to an argument between where you first sit and where you last stand. Like "...up for something". I don't fuck with running. "But I'm Sonic"; I'm up for the pumping of the fist. With a glove and shit. I didn't finish the bar, because y'all niggas is stuck listening to Kendrick Lamar! Feel me...

(hook)
These niggas wanted to front.
Till they found out that they under the thumb
of my Ring Pop!
Ring Pop.

Veterans had a wonderful run,
but these old niggas mad that they under the thumb
of my Ring Pop!
Ring Pop.




-so mote it be [#cDOT!]

6 is concerned.

My brothers wanna know. They wanna know! Who's been messing with their baby bro?

As soon as I get to the point where I can tell them, their reasoning kicks in and I feel guilty for wanting to kill them. That happened to Common on "Love Is". He started to name names, and as he did it, the names ran.

I'll say it like this to make it short: don't do to me what you wouldn't do to J Dilla or George Massa. Jack is going through having a lot being done to him, so I can't speak on him. But if you can't handle the wrath of ANY OF THE THREE, don't come fuckin w/ me.

People only do this shit because I'm a kind individual. That's pretty pussy. I'm not built like a bully, I don't think like a bully, ...I'm all about love. But that's considered a weakness.

Last I checked, my gun works. 6z understand. My tranquilizer went off yesterday. How's your stomach Feelin', cruel world? Regardless, I'm cocked, loaded and ready for whatever. I doubt retaliation, but that's only temporary. 

My weapon was not formed.



11/10!!!




#comma

Sting.

Sting was not only the franchise wrestler for WCW, but he was well-loved by EVERYONE. Fellow wrestlers, admin, fans, even the WWF/E had kind words for him (despite Bret Hart having an identical finishing submission hold). But when the nWo got involved and fans and friends alike turned on him, he switched to a more Gothic, black and white look. He spoke less, carried a weapon, and even developed a less technical, more brutal finishing move. The fans were confused, but grew to love him even more. He even tried to turn heel (become a bad guy), but he couldn't shake the love.

He went on to wrestle for a few up-and-coming factions, and even fought at WWE's Wrestlemania. He's retired now, from what I've read. But still, his legacy remains unfuckwithable. 

As my 36th birthday comes around, I feel like Sting. Hip-Hop knows who I am, the legends know who I am, battle rappers fear me, producers bite me, ladies gossip... and at first I thought it was to the detriment. It can be, ya know? If I let any of the above go to my head, I'll get lazy. People already think making music is easy. And I'm not lazy. Just meticulous with my energy. But, like Sting, many good friends have turned on me. I'd say who, but I don't give the spotlight to those I hate anymore. I've also had early listeners turn on me when I decided to free my mind at night (aka not write in the studio).

My initial response to all of this is, fuck you all. But I've had time to think, and my heart came back... . I don't like the scrutiny, and it's unnecessary, but it means that you hold me to an INCREDIBLY high standard. I uphold this standard, is my argument. So why the bullshit? Is it because you KNOW I smoke weed/drink liquor? Do you want to share an esoteric joke with me when I'm high/drunk that you couldn't share with me sober? Do I burn your subconscious by not acknowledging your efforts to budge me from my self-erected high pedestal? 

Whatever the case may be, I watch it all from the rafters. And I subtly plan my attack on my naysayers, one by one. In this case, everyone, at once, on November 10th, 2023. 

You just don't know when and what time.
Just expected "your head to get that dead feeling".






#comma


Etta James and the Jets, HamilVision-ized

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As we enter Hamilton Season, I've unearthed a RARE Hamilton Gem from #TheArchives. I had no idea HamilVision made a video for this. This joint is surreal. 

Check it out!

lol hope you had a happy Halloween.
Next on the Gregorian Calendar?

Hamilton Day!
yaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!

...for me, 9th, Blu and Em.







#comma

FreshOffThePresses

Feed.

Today, so far, only 2 cigarettes! I been gradually cutting back, allowing room for new hobbies and interests in place of my addiction. I hav...