(Dick Cryptic:)
Croakin boagies in the corner of your basement. Face it, we throw your children to the pavement. Sketchers on my soles, gold chain around my wrist. I got 10 fingers, and they all in yo bitch. I got the finest beans, a fingerblastin Grand Prix. I'll show you around town smoking squares at the jamboree. Skronk's only got 4 toes in the summer. The others simmer in the trunk of the 4 runner. We skate naked at the playground where you made kids. The place where you learned that your father had fake tits. Smoking beeves on a four wheeler eyes closed, take a deep breath and wake up in the grove. We can blend in with the stankiest of beavers making sober suburban dads trippin in their sneakers.
(Wandissimo:)
Shawty. You will be my shawty.
Getting lifted. Getting stacks. Counting money. Getting fax. I know so many motherfucking facts that my head is splitting open and exploding on a cat. A chubby younger brother and a fat ass gash. My heart skips a beat at the thought of you. I never want to sleep when I think of you. I'm never gonna leave if that's alright with you. I wanna be your man do you think I'm cool.
I'm thinking of you and how I can impress you. Girl, please be my boo and let me be your best friend. Let me lose my cool and fuck witchu all night then. You making me feel like everything aight then.
Lo-fi experimental synth music from the Estonian producer and frequent Dean Blunt Collaborator, crafted in conjunction with a graphic novel. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 24, 2024