I'm sure you'll love this one! if you do - give me your 🔥🔥 and 💞💞more

Your drummer friend likes to keep things tidy, and he's been urging you for some time to tidy up your home studio, especially the shelves at the back which are overflowing with electric cables, two metal poles without microphones, which were used to hang darts for a dart contest between musicians; the first dartboard bearing the effigy of Alan Parson during the creation of Eye in the sky and the second of Lalo Schiffrin in the middle of composing the theme for Mission Impossible. Tidying up this shelf won't be enough, you'll also have to tackle the studio's vault of high-value equipment, a worm-eaten wooden cupboard with yellowed, peeling paint in the scarlet tones once so popular with costume designers in the throes of Glam Rock delirium. When you open the cupboard, you're confronted with old recording equipment, still in working order, but which would be at home in the Abbey Road Museum... You shudder at the sight of the Tascam 4-track cassette with its forest-green shell, a formidable piece of equipment that still impresses you with the personality of its master channel, enriched with the famous shshshshsh, and its oversized mixing interface. Ah, the good old days of cassettes, mixes and remixes, frantic rewinding by twirling the machine around a pencil, serial duplications, demos on that you took everywhere and hope that you handed over to expert ears. Next to the 4-track is a shelf of cassettes as colourful as the multicoloured make-up of lyrical pop singer Kimera. Time has taken its toll on the ink on the now illegible labels. A diabolical angel whispers the delicious idea of further procrastination, and quickly abandoning the idea of putting everything back in order, you take out the player and plug in the headphone jack. It's time to listen to the first tape. In the end, the sound was quite warm. It's good to hear some classics still blazing on magnetic tape. Good old tape. more

Shit, tired of gettin' shot at Tired of gettin' chased by the police and arrested Niggas need a spot where we can kick it A spot where we belong, that's just for us Niggas ain't gotta get all dressed up and be Hollywood Y'knahmean? Where do niggas go when we die? Ain't no heaven for a thug nigga That's why we go to thug mansion That's the only place where thugs get in free and you gotta be a G At thug mansion A place to spend my quiet nights, time to unwind So much pressure in this life of mine I cry at times I once contemplated suicide And woulda' tried but when I held that 9, all I could see was my momma's eyes No one knows my struggle, they only see the trouble Not knowin' it's hard to carry on when no one loves you Picture me inside the misery of poverty No man alive has ever witnessed struggles I survived Prayin' hard for better days, promise to hold on Me and my dawgs ain't have a choice but to roll on We found a family spot to kick it Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit A spot where we can smoke in peace, and even though we G's We still visualize places, that we can roll in peace And in my mind's eye I see this place, the players go in fast I got a spot for us all, so we can ball, at thug's mansion Every corner, every city There's a place where life's a little easy Little Hennessy, laid back and cool Every hour, cause it's all good Leave all the stress from the world outside Every wrong done will be alright (I wanna go) Nothing but peace, love (I wanna go, I wanna go nigga) And street passion, every ghetto needs a thug mansion A place where death doesn't reside, just thugs who collide Not to start beef but spark trees, no cops rolling by No policemen, no homicide, no chalk on the streets No reason, for nobody's momma to cry See I'm a good guy, I'm trying to stick around for my daughter But if I should die, I know all of my albums support her This whole year's been crazy, asked the Holy Spirit to save me Only difference from me and Ossie Davis, gray hair maybe Cause I feel like my eyes saw too much suffering I'm just twenty-some-odd years, I done lost my mother And I cried tears of joy, I know she smiles on her boy I dream of you more, my love goes to Afeni Shakur Cause like Ann Jones, she raised a ghetto king in a war And just for that alone she shouldn't feel no pain no more Cause one day we'll all be together, sipping heavenly champagne Where angels soar, with golden wings in thug's mansion Every corner, every city There's a place where life's a little easy Little Hennessy, laid back and cool Every hour, cause it's all good Leave all the stress from the world outside Every wrong done will be alright Nothing but peace, love And street passion, every ghetto needs a thug mansion Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doing good Tell the homies I'm in heaven and they ain't got hoods Seen a show with Marvin Gaye last night, it had me shook Dripping peppermint Schnapps, with Jackie Wilson, and Sam Cooke Then some lady named Billie Holiday Sang sitting there kicking it with Malcolm, 'til the day came Little LaTasha sho' grown Tell the lady in the liquor store that she's forgiven, so come home Maybe in time you'll understand only God can save us When Miles Davis cutting lose with the band Just think of all the people that you knew in the past That passed on, they in heaven, found peace at last Picture a place that they exist, together There has to be a place better than this, in heaven So right before I sleep, dear God, what I'm asking Remember this face, save me a place, in thug's mansion Every corner, every city There's a place where life's a little easy (thugz mansion) Little Hennessy, laid back and cool Every hour, cause it's all good Leave all the stress from the world outside Every wrong done will be alright (I wanna go) Nothing but peace, love (I wanna go, I wanna go nigga) And street passion, every ghetto needs a thug mansion more