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!

Shorty looking like she's a heartbreaker! 


Looking like she's a heartbreaker... 


I just can't take her! 

Shorty looking like she's a heartbreaker!


Should've known that she's a heartbreaker!


(verse 2)

I like to role play when I'm watching porn. Stepmom, stepson I got a lot to go on with. Get on my mountain, become a Mormon when I preach to you. Leave you in The Water of St. Louis... Salt Lake City... Damn, I can't do it! I paint to it. but damn it, I ain't do it! We connected mentally through sex in a scene. Sex In The City, no. Sex on the Internet. That's digital. I get it all. I get it from the fro to the toes. She had no fro but pretty toes. Did she know that I'm watching her get off? Also looking for an officer... cuff me. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me, baby! It's just me, baby... you make me ugly and crazy!


(hook)

Somebody take her!

Shorty looking like she's a heartbreaker! 


Looking like she's a heartbreaker... 


I just can't take her! 

Shorty looking like she's a heartbreaker!


Should've known that she's a heartbreaker!


(verse 3)

She felt me stroking my bone. I felt she when she rode on the pole. A quick scene then we role play. She's somebody's stepmom! I'm like, "okay, maybe I could be the son that she lusting after! Bust her ass! We cuddle up when after!" ...just because I love her laughter. Maybe it's forced, but it ain't forced no more! She got me! I cuddle with her thick ass! Leaving puddles after the disaster. That word. Disaster, what is that? I sit back and wish she was mine. She sits on my lap, From a distance. I give her all I have plus what's divine. She disappears when I refresh. Just know as long as I log on, she's next. Ungh


(hook)

Somebody take her!

Shorty looking like she's a heartbreaker! 


Looking like she's a heartbreaker... 


I just can't take her! 

Shorty looking like she's a heartbreaker!


Should've known that she's a heartbreaker!




[#cHam_widdit]

Hoarse Horus...

The smartest thing for me to do right now is shut the fuck up. Literally. I have a showcase coming (industry stuff), and the big 11/10 show. As you may have heard in today's live, I am very hoarse, and I NEED to put the cigs down. 

Now, The Eye of Horus has brought me much success. In fact, it's the reason I'm here. But I haven't been kind to the temple that houses it. I'm able to knock out 12-hour DJ sets to an audience that may or may not appreciate the music, for the last 2 NYEs. This is my chance to showcase my talents through songs I love and get love for, AS WELL AS get compensated from it. I don't want to squander this opportunity due to cravings and being overall weak.

It won't be easy, but it must be done. At least until this coming Christmas. Who knows what can happen FOR me by then...? I just know I'm here till I'm not. And I don't plan to be the reason I'm not here anymore.

MOON steps, y'all... lol

So I will be actively shutting the fuck up, at least until I get my falsetto back. I have at least 16 days to get my voice back. As of now, I'm nervous. 

But I always bounce back in the midnight hour.
I can attest to my own doings. 

^
^
^
"What's that smell? Oh, I'm just boiling some agua!"
-The Throne, "Made In America"

~!Jr.!~


Jitters of The Talented…!

 


As I listen to The Pink Lavalamp and prepare to perform it IN FULL on my birthday, I find it incredibly hard to find newer music of mine (2012-present) that can measure up to/follow-up A LIVE performance of TPL.

So I might not be djing that night. At least for an after party. The Pink Lavalamp is THAT AWESOME. It’s to where… I don’t want to listen to anything else, for the whole day! I really put my foot in this album. 

It’s not about writing, or that my newer music isn’t good. It’s a completely different vibration all around. ESPECIALLY my 2026 stuff. The music on the website reflects a newly found appreciation for freedom, as well as music from the Lavalamp-Hamiltonization era. I can definitely do it. I just don’t want backlash saying my music since TPL can’t hold a candle to it or music made from that era. 

I’m tired of explaining myself. I had an inflated sense of self during The Pink Lavalamp. Bad Harlem chick, bad Harlem side chick, a Harlem crew, and a whole double life that included poetry, sex, drugs and beats. My memories come back in flashes, and only remind me of how publicly private I was. Harlem knew I was on drugs, no matter how much I deny it. I was imagining myself making the songs I make NOW, BACK THEN. That’s why I’m so proud of my current work.

But FUCK.
The Pink Lavalamp is The Tower.

I guess because I KNOW what I did for it is why I’m not beating my chest about it. But this is what a proper CH album sounds like. Do I feel I’ve done better? Yes. “My Brain Is Alive” and “Mr. Black Cat”. But the nostalgia and overall touch of the album make it one-of-one.

But what happens when and if I do it again? Is it still one-of…? What if ALL my music from 2012-202present were one-ofs, meant to be enjoyed with discretion?

“Something you should think about while you walk around…”
-Charles Hamilton, “Savannah”




#CH

...as it continues...




Today, I...

-woke up
-read the news
-worked the exercise bike
-drank A LOT of water
-took my daily psych meds 
-practiced for upcoming live shows
-meditated
-prayed (to God)



Making a blog entry like this was hard,
I guess I'm that evil.


Doing it again, today.



Nov. 10th, @ SOBs NYC

The irony of love.


I hadn't met Miss Jackie! yet, at the time of making this song. In fact, I could've used ANY Jackie in my life, no less the one here already. I knew a Jackie in FDA. Same grade, too. She just liked the bad boys. And I was more interested in her upperclassmen friend. Nothing came of either, so no feelings to be had. Just... all I wanted was my laptop. Especially during this time.

NewCo era, y'all. The manipulative muscle of Matt Michelson and the smooth coercion of "Uncle Jeff" Metcalf. NO ONE KNEW WHAT TO DO. They just knew my music was marketable, and with the right designer stuff, I can be equally as marketable (without clashing with "their" favorite artists). I sent a LOT of subs at EACH of them. Sadly, the NewCo era made enemies out of my Harlem brethren. It wasn't long into this era that I had falling outs with Boe, Dre, Sha-leik, Leroy... and a lot of these songs reflect it. 

Difference is, I was writing back then. 

I feel weird having WROTE little quips and lines about a serious topic. I've already made my accusations. Just... the people I accused ended up influencing the behavior of all those listed earlier. As it so turns out, it was all a scare tactic, and they did indeed scare the shit out of me. But they got bars for it. And I got my bars UP, thinking about them. As we move forward, Dre and Leroy are in the position that Matt and HchO were in. Sha and I are on better terms, Boe is the homie... all I gotta do is show up in Harlem and all will be okay.

Currently on a FaceTime group chat with Lou and Shapeshifter Dre (Stray Dogs). We're trying to figure out what to do about a wayward Stray. No details, no quotes. Just pray for Reek the Cleric. And say another prayer for Super Helpful Kwame (with the CH-produced "Black In New York"), who's facing homelessness and ...well, not being able to make music until the funds come around.

The real ones go through it.
That's how they become real ones.

Ace your test.


^
older picture. lol.



~!Jr.!~

 

CH x JPEG

^
^
^
I had only heard about dude from underground circles. Never officially listened. He reached out during the week, and I was compelled to listen. Glad I did. BRILLIANT production and lyrics. And A HELLUVA COLLABORATOR. We made some shit together yesterday. 

But he's GOOOOOD.

Peace to JPEGMAFIA.

Only the real ones reach out.






#CH

 

Hate This Guy pt. 2 0fficial lyrics




 Hey, Dilla.


I don't know if it's "Praise Jesus!", "Fuck Jesus!", be like Jesus, be like you... 

Check it, there's a such thing as the seas
Obviously the bees
but all my J's, where you at?


I make noise on this shit, baby.


Fuck it.
I'm gonna give it up to Jesus on this one. 

Come on, let me get down, Lord!.

(verse 1)

I'm only interested in committing sin with my women friends. Come back with a strap. Not on their waist; more like, "on my hip...!". Spraying anybody that's bored of the shit. More than morbid; it's the floor to the abyss. The bottom of it. Bottoms up. Raising heaven like it's a child. Getting down. Mystikal. Spitting Wild. Wild and fast... like top. Like I like it. Give me that, I just might change. Strange how brain changes the game. Yet, you don't need a brain to receive the change of the game... The Rap Game. Jesus's pain, all over they hands, head and back. Wherever they have pain. My pain's your destiny, better believe. So Fresh and Clean; better than three. 8,000 and a million. Wildin' in the building; you smiling? I guess not. I guess the stress cannot stop. Trying to make you laugh while you shake your ass... Dilla! Madlib in the back... extra rapping under the cap (sry). Niggas, get that? Mentality! Been that! No fatality, unless I (w)rap that... 

(hook)

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

(verse 2)

...no other damn direction to go. Stretching your throat, Giraffe. Geoffrey. Let's get it o-n. You know that I be o'in with a poem. No other choice but to go in. When the wind's blowing, innuendoing. Then, the dough I get is not mentioned by no one. Shit. Going in like... no one would if no one was in the crib. They coming in. How sick is that? Picture the fact and wrap it up. Like a condom. Fuck with that Fuck me? Fuck your (w)raps! Fuck you! It's a Wrap. What the fuck is up with that? Jesus got me! Holes in my hands, and I'm bleeding sloppy! THAT's the pain I feel, holding the mic like Rodney Dangerfield. No respect. So I hold your neck. Poltergeist. Holding a beer. Know what the fear is... my spirit. Hear this!

(hook)

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.


Dear Jesus, how does it feel to be mentioned in The Sun's powerful yield? Like I give it up to you, cause you died. I can't die. I provide immortality to anybody that want to battle the rhyme. You live forever as a loser like me. I guess we all losers to God. Under my -scope like Inter-... Wynter, I hope it don't blow me away like a baby's placenta. Yo, it takes a lot of age... takes a lot of rage. Break a lot of stages, make a lot of dough, become a fucking sage. Either way, you grow. Either way, you know. No sense in the radio. You're not projecting your spirit, you're sexing and you hear it. Intersection of the spirit. Dead in your chest. Hennessy. Better believe. Rest In Peace in the MC Getting at me! 

(hook)

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

I cannot hate this guy for all.

He's done all he's done for me.

^
^
^
...so mote it be.







#cHam_widdit

EMERGENCY LEVELS OF LOW!!!

 Wow. I posted 2 Columbine Gang entries on my Enter the Hamilton blog. Nerd shit, but a sight that I MUST SLOW DOWN. Actually, I should STOP.


I need to reload.



Bear with me, y'all.









#CH


FreshOffThePresses

8am, 11/10

If you ain't up on thangs, I started a new birthday song series. "8am". On my birthday in 2023, my dad informed me of the exac...