A cold indictment. First the critic, then the machine. A hauntcore gut punch wrapped in drill cadence while the band rots. No applause. No permission. Just ghosts dragging names through broken speakers. You want thoughts? Here's the bill. Curator. Gatekeeper. Cryptid blur. Critic, sure. Sharp as the bottom line, Needle Drop spins spines it never designed. Protect the lottery for the sake of parity. Hilarity you think I give a fuck what’s on your mind. Anthony said I’m evil incarnate. Needle Drop? Stop. That’s content as vomit. The highest floor you ever seen. No fans raise the roof, just bile on repeat. Did you not platform off another’s sweat? Walkin' the dog, or just gaspin' for breath? What’s in the car? Steering wheel and seats. What’s on his playlist? Turkish snatched off the street. Picky pikey, Bricktop brained, Talkin’ bout theft while you shoplift pain. Quick lipped auctioneer with a taste for disdain. Review from the booth? That’s flag on the game. Short sighted man with a secondhand name, Talkin' bout talent like it’s pawnshop fame. Sellin’ hot takes that you never could stock. Parasite pastor at the pulpit of rot. If that’s not a van parked deep in the alley, This is bare knuckle parlay. I got your Downton finale. Curator. Gatekeeper. Cryptid blur. Critic, sure. Sharp as the bottom line, Needle Drop spins spines it never designed. Protect the lottery for the sake of parity. Hilarity you think I give a fuck what’s on your mind. Welcome to the best we got, hot off the pot. Fresh off the line, another artist gets dropped. Sign the 360, let the label lock. I want half upfront and a cut off the top. Meanwhile, reach for a cent? Butcher block. Got Shaq, Mutombo, Rodman on swap. And they don’t even call bank on the shot. I get shooter’s bounce, glass or Klay on the spot. More idols dancing than K Pop slots. Every single one still tied in knots. Since when was longer the badge for the rock? Is it music or your fine print and font? Now the whole machine screams we gotta figure this out. From bottom to top it’s panic, no doubt. But you had fifty years, now it’s a foul line. I’m already in motion, drawin like Harden in overtime. Here’s a penny for your thoughts. Hand down, man down. Whole system’s outta bounds. These whistleblowers can stop now. Penny for your thoughts. Spend it in silence. No refunds for the mindless. Think how they tell you. Then sign, initial, remain spineless. Penny for your thoughts. Spend it in silence. No refunds for the mindless. Think how they tell you. Then sign, initial, remain spineless.more

🎭 Cry Wolf – Heir Monty 🎙️ A Hauntcore Manifesto | 🪞AI as Specter, Society as the Beast In a world screaming “the end is near” on loop... Cry Wolf asks: was it ever not? Monty blends slam poetry, glitch satire, and prophetic cadence to indict our addiction to panic, platforms, and performative outrage. From Timbaland to timeloops, the track flips the AI hysteria script: ⚠️ The terror isn’t the tool; it’s the mirror. 💻 Themes: • AI dread vs. societal amnesia • Artistic erasure & commodified rebellion • Tupac, Orwell, and TikTok in a spiral • Post-truth as performance art 🧠 Quote: “Cry me a river from the shiver me Timbaland” - satire meets lament for our collective collapse. 🔊 For fans of: JPEGMAFIA, Bo Burnham, clipping., Linkin Park, Dead Prez #Hauntcore #CryWolf #AIHysteria #MythOS #PostTruth #HeirMonty Lyrics: Suddenly we care about the painter, the act, and to be direct We claim the script in hand is penned with no respect We regretfully pretend that the present does not reflect Cry me a river from the shiver me Timbaland, you all know what's next They said it would steal our minds We scrolled past Corrupt our kids Where are those little rats? Kill the truth Like we care so much about that Destroy art You can not kill what is already dead, that's facts They said it was the end of reality Series after series of "seriously" condensed to one page The beginning of the machine age Post human fear as old as the writing we claim The death of intimacy, set souls to flame What is your neighbors name how's your brother who lost another or can't speak to your other cause we care more about the score, the oath, the great American cope of the day The rise of propaganda We elect props and gander then wonder why politicians rot in splendor They were talking about the radio Then the TV Printing press tuned to auto industry Then the internet Now it’s AI Instead of read or ask why Once again we with much to do before clocking in on the morrow of any day ending in Y we hope then hop in line The terror was never the tool The tool is you The terror is the mirror Check and see and then tell me what came first Artificial intelligence or the indoctrination of ignorance labeled, branded, marketed, lobbied and then delivered on the first "It's too much money here. I mean nobody should be hitting the lotto for 36 million and we got people starving in the streets. That is not idealistic, that's just real, that's just stupid" - Tupac Shakur - 1992 MTV Christmas Interview (Unaired) more

I'm taking a chance on myself. This is the first song I'm using my own voice for. Worked on a little bit using BandLab. Sharing this with the world on June 20th. Honest feedback & criticism welcome!more