songs about brothers lyrics的八卦，Yahoo名人娛樂都在討論

ประภาส ชลศรานนท์ ที่ผมแอบมอง
---
1
จำไม่ได้ว่าผมหยิบหนังสือ "เพลงเขียนคน ดนตรีเขียนโลก" มาจากหิ้งหนังสือของห้องสมุดแห่งไหนในจุฬาฯ แต่จำได้แม่นว่า นี่คือหนังสือเล่มหนึ่งที่เติมสารประกอบสำคัญเข้ามาในสมอง และหล่อหลอมให้เกิดความคิดแบบหนึ่งขึ้นในหัว กระทั่งวันนี้ความคิดนั้นยังคงอวลอยู่ไม่ไปไหน
...Continue ReadingPrapha sachon saranon that I sneak peek at
---
1
I don't remember which library I picked up "music writing" from which library in chula, but I remember this is a book that added an important compound into my brain and forged. One thought in my head until today, that thought is still going anywhere.

The idea that is " many more

Along with the feeling that our little hands can write the world.

I have been listening to "Chaliang" since elementary school. Milk hasn't set (now). I still). I understand. When I was in University, the band disband disband has left just a story on the wood sheet for me. A lot of music never old. Those are written from the end of brother chik's pen - prapha chon Sara non

Reading this book makes you see the idea behind each song, and even more you see the author.

For me, whether brother chik wrote a song, wrote a book or made a movie, all he tried to do is ask people to try to look at the corner with more than just the corner.

See the world and your heart will be expansive.

Many more (many more that we don't know. We see it. Just in case we haven't seen it yet), Hibiscus Tree and blind (blind, but the mind is still bonded beauty), if there are only two of us in this world (time I'm hungry. Two of us will eat sticky rice with chicken noodles. Who to buy), it's up to who (it's up to who sees it, who can hear it, who decides), calm down bro (where are you going to fight with? I don't have time. Search for mind) etc.

Many songs of the lyrics are annoying. Such as when a lot of love songs say, " there are only us in this world brother chik asked me. Who will you want to eat noodles, who do you buy from? During a loud song If you don't love me, tell me. Tell me a word. " brother chik also wrote a song. Calm down. Where are you going? Let's see.

Khun Prapha Somchai cuddle will see the world in the drone corner. It's flying up to see the wide picture and spread out that there may be a corner that we forget to look at. The world could be something else.

...

2
"many more" in the meaning of brother chik doesn't eat just one thing. There are hundreds of thousands of possible sources, but it also means looking at everyone. Everything is equally important. Equally beautiful. Not comparing to take it to take the beams, but look beautiful. Of that person then pull out that potential to create value

" Classic, don't insult jazz
Jazz don't watch clan pop
Pop, don't mind the country.
Don't be sulking with doctor lam.
Doctor Lam, don't think more than classic. It's high "

This is a message on the screen in the concert. The song makes me think of what brother chik told me in this book. "people are like fingers. It's not equal but fingers too and have different duties" is a teacher's speech. Teaching kids in the young movie of piak posters.

To this day, the " finger is not equal " has been interpreted and wittalion. But in the meaning that I understand that brother chik wants to press, the " difference " rather than " inequality " is thumb is different from Index Finger and pinky and brother chik says " you could be a pinky finger which is more important than the index finger in some things read and think that our round fingers are valuable in our way.

"Tao" which sees the value of the nature of things like this. Often seen in the work of brother chik.

...

3
Mr. Prapha is not a big person. If there are two sides, brother chik will not stand on one side. Maybe because of the eyes that sees the beauty of each thing, each mind and an open view. I don't believe that anyone is all right. Or all wrong. Everything is good or bad.

Most importantly, this kind of thought resilience is believed that the people or the extreme thoughts we see are not eternal, but it can always change. The Extreme can also be adjusted, divided, exchange. New ingredients in themselves.

Once I had an opportunity to sit and talk with brother chik. Then we went to consult about making tv show. Our team is interested in a program that focuses on content. Easy, I want to pass knowledge to the audience. When I tell you the pattern and content to you. Listen to the brother ask, " is knowledge necessary that it must not be fun stop thinking and continue asking " is entertainment necessary to be ridiculous "

Just these two questions expand our view. We can see a new area that there is still space in the middle that combines what we thought were irrelevant. Different Worlds. and if we could, we could, we wouldn't cut off any kind of value.

...

4
That's another feature of brother chik that I secretly look at. This guy doesn't teach straight away, doesn't comment, but he likes to ask questions. Let the partner to consider it himself. This technique is used in writing as well.

The question that brother chik throws at can make us think " can it be something else " or " can it really see one way

This kind of conversation is like a kind adult who doesn't block. It doesn't draw the line what it should be. But let us choose by ourselves. This is how to tease you think with the question that khun prapha can use this kind of weapon. Praew praew praw praw praw praw The more and more.

If anyone has worked with brother chik, maybe it feels why I came up with this idea! I'm really good! But in fact, we can think because we are triggered by his brother's questions, but we will feel good because no one has ordered us to do that. We make our own decisions.

So it's not just creative work, but the way of working is also creative.

...

5
The Picture of brother chik that I remember when I was looking at the idol in the conference room is a picture of a playful executive like a little boy who had the big one who had the power to make any decision.

I saw his brother spinning pen, drawing a picture, and poke him out while everyone was meeting seriously thinking about it.

Good ideas often come up during our relaxing time -- I've heard many good thinking people say that. Many people say that if we don't lose our children, we will always keep the potential to imagine and creative.

Photo of Mr. Prapha in the conference room for me like a playful kid.

Another picture that I remember is in the conference room and dining table of the group who often meet each other. Brother Chik will tease the scared by putting a glass of water. The Edge of the table. It seems to fall to test if that person can endure enough. That person keeps moving deep. Mr. Prapha will laugh and says, " can't you stand it? Can't you stand this kind of thing

A Writer, a creative thinker that we have been following for a long time. Admired and thought that he would be quiet. But when he met the real one, he became a playful little boy, fast talking, Pear, praw and questioning. A very fun conversation.

...

6
If I would write about "the" from the eyes that I would have written many pages of paper because I have been looking at brother chik since the work behind my thoughts to read every interview that I saw until I had a chance to meet on the occasion. I'm always looking at verbs, symptoms and thoughts of brother chik. Teacher's Melody.

Finally, brother chik is not crazy. People may see the work, but they don't have to see his own. We know the song. Scream and laugh with brothers and musicians. We love the program of work. Point or many other creative works caused by this brother's mind, but often we don't even know or don't even think there is him behind it.

This is another thing that brother chik taught me. We can make a change or create something without letting people see us. in some cases, it's more powerful than having better cuddle results.

We have seen Mr. Prapha through some work, but I believe there are many pieces of this sharp and round anchor that we didn't know was his work.

The fit of being seen is something that brother chik manages to learn and nan cuddle baht.

Prapha Chon Saranon is a teacher with many lessons to sneak peek and learn.

Thank you brother chik for being an inspiration, an open thought perspective. He ignites the dream of writing books and giving "many more" tips in my heart since I was in teenagers through your work.

Congratulations to brother chik for the National Artist Award in performing arts as the creator of International Thai entertainment and music event this year.

I really want to tell brother chik that "music writing music"

At least one of me is the productivity from your song.

With love and thanks

Ehhh (round finger)Translated

[Mommy's heart chat]
At A Anderson Parent-child colloquium, I was put up by Anderson, and the lecturer asked me to say what the child was moving and had to practice to resonate in 30 seconds 😲, I told everyone 30 seconds indeed It's a bit difficult ~ I want to ask the parents here, do you remember the child called daddy or mom? Silence at this time...... 🤫 I ask when the child is called a habit, I will not want the child to call the other side quickly, so that I do not have to change my diaper to milk, and laugh at it now...... 😂 and my child let I waited for two years and two months to call me a mom, I don't know if it was a heartache 😭 or moved 😘, but at least it made me feel relieved he wasn't dumb, he was my second child, called slow The Powerpuff............ after the end, the two moms told me that when I heard you, I cried, because my children were also, Ivy did not know if this was a cause of resonance 🤔, but I am convinced that I am not alone.

In the beginning, I just wanted to let kasper learn to walk, and I thought that it was a small part of us. 😵 because my child is a total slow, all normal children should have the development. I am going to be able to do a good job. I want to share it with the "language" part. When Kasper is completely out of language and even cognitive, I have got a lot of kung fu 💪. If you have follow us, I will know it. It is so touching to take the two brothers to see a parent-child concert.

Children in general without language, usually the doctors will suggest to do some checks, such as hearing tests, and will start to arrange early healing without disease, check out kasper sure not damaged, just have unstable frequency need tracking, we except running early Healing, listening to therapist's way to go home to practice, at home I love to put music, when I write, I love to put romance 🥰 comfortable song, when I am sad, I will put sad songs to make myself good Crying 🤣 one time, when I was happy, I liked to put on a rock song to wiggle the body 💃🕺, the music to me is more of a source of relaxation than listening to me, so i also apply to kasper.

When I was taking care of my sick mother-in-law, the paramedics told me that the ear was the last stop of the body structure. If there was anything to say, I would like to say that when I was learning English, listening to English songs was the most. Able to resonate with hum singing 👩 🎤, this makes me inspired to listen to the importance, so I started to search for the song fit for Kasper, which I recommend the creation of #thanks, such as the classic counting stars, happy Children love singing, facial features, Finger Sports, etc. Interesting lyrics with easy melody. Children may not be able to reach the vibes immediately, but in the heart, they will definitely remember, because kasper is also intermittently listening for three years, and now it will be especially requested. Listen to that song.

In fact, we can also find the music that is suitable for children. I think it is a long way to take care of the child. It is also important for parents to find a comfortable balance. No matter how much the music can help the child? But at least listening to music is very comfortable. In order not to allow long length, it will gradually be shared with " language once again, stressing that it is pure only experience sharing, and it does not have a special effect! Also very welcome 🤗 parents share when children are no cognitive, no language, what are the ways to help the child improve?

Through this platform, not only sharing food, scenic spots, but also sharing "Slow-flying", hope to let more people know about the different children of slow flying, maybe i am not the most professional, but share with such experience Found, in fact, he / they are very naive and cute, believe in you more understanding, give greater tolerance, no longer stay distance but close to each other's heart.
＃第138篇
＃聽音樂可以療癒身心靈
＃音樂也能帶給孩子前所未有的感受
＃謝欣芷愛唱歌創作
＃認識不同的慢飛天使從你我開始
＃瞭解也是一種互動的幫助開始
＃媽咪心事聊聊天 ＃時光小站
＃遲緩兒 #慢飛孩子

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

#88barsremix #大嘻哈時代 #乞丐ceo

最近覺得88Bars有點屌然後決定做一個自己的版本，其實我也不確定自己到底有沒有內定，反正就是先報名再說

在 StreetVoice 上面聽：
https://streetvoice.com/papetone/songs/638467/

追蹤我的 IG:
https://www.instagram.com/onemoretimebabywu/


888S Credit:
作曲Composed by 踢萬8ig8a8y
作詞Lyrics by 踢萬8ig8a8y
製作人Producer by 薑母鴨ginger duck
編曲Beats Arrangement by 薑母鴨ginger duck
混音Mixing by章湘柏
母帶後期Mastering by章湘柏
錄音室Recording Studio Nora Says諾拉說

設計Logo Design by Demi.C
影片剪輯 Editing by 楊策

888S Lyrics:
萬
插卡進 ATM,
餘額好像沒有變
Yeah I’m trained to bring game,
華語嘻哈音樂圈還是硬了點 (硬拉)
BIGGIE 萬 my band, (my band)
Just Ｗhen things seems the same
and the whole scene is lame,
Goddamn 還是討厭下雨天 (OSN)
Show no respect, so relaxed,
go too fast, toast to that (Clink)
8IG8A8Y 八十八個 BARS 霸的話語權
“No Flocking” like Kodak Black (On they ass)
Fuck it 下局見， 風格太平太侷限
Na mean? I need change like PiNkChAiN
太依戀曬衣鏈 What’s my name?
@ONEMORETIMEBABY 再一遍 (踢萬)
February Twenty Eight, 進大嘻哈時代掙專輯費
三票當選【窮】到四腳朝天， 身價還沒天價但直接
翻一倍 (double up)
Drinking 西西里 Coffee 『Let Ｍe 嘻犀里』
Mini 晉級到 MTV 裡
沈浸在進擊的信義區，
忠言逆耳說實話我有聽進去 (listen)
了無牽掛 just wanna, work on my album
千里馬 "PONY" 還沒開喝就先掛
先發制人，水到渠成 (每幹拎)
Rhyme scheme so brilliant,
萬 in a billion, 專情的明理人，
Told y’all Imma finished them (On GOD)
鑽新的 bars, shine like 鑽金的卡， 硬底子 Indie 的 rock
講心裡的話，穿金戴銀 (Nah) 是該清醒了吧？
沈睡已久最純粹野獸為何會困獸之鬥？
剃刀蔣那 part, 太嘻哈實在 Imma keep that in mind
無限 看齊感激 fo sho (That's right)
HAHA I don’t really care how you feel, everywhere I go
All Star, Hall Of Fame 116, always in the field
獅子星座 Leo 王者爭霸
肉弱強食從此先發， 不是種子真假？
What the fuck happened to Hip Hop?
金價萬夫莫敵，一匹黑馬，思維 gain-up (My 思維)
Know pain Know game huh?
Spitting fire 太嗨了 higher than Higher Brothers
我的 flow 五花八門
喜歡 started from the bottom
Mo money mo problems, 火侯只開了八成
Now I got options
請叫我木柵人
What’s popping?
Reping Taipei City 捍衛我的家人
我的 freestyle 不好說不好不會加分
我的 attitude so awesome
燒肉粽燒口燙， 就像我的貨，roll up son 不誇張
遇強則強，這是我的命
8IG8A8Y 巨嬰活體的 meme
牛年行大運收拾玻璃心，demo 已經錄了太多首你聽
噴 flows, money in, 收進收銀機 (Ching ching)
Drinking Ice Tea 到 6AM in the morning
文字當兇器
Love me or hate me, don’t give a fuck about you
還有你的抨擊
恭喜如果有 “Baby Fat” 幫你拍拍手 (拍手聲)
Hashtag 我 #曬北鼻challenge 有在用 IG 都可以參加 though (Okay)

我不需要拍影片，我知道會有人拍我
曾太多向左向右，生態濁，畢竟深愛過深愛過深愛過
My flows never lazy 從不怠惰 I know
我身高187 所以你看我都要抬頭，94不是一個 idol
Got the key 可以開鎖
Suicide doors 麻將輸了太多，主很愛我 (Lord)
讓我們保持聯絡就算到四點多 (FO)
【窮】,【4PM】, 【Burning】, Make Secens
把真實故事寫進歌裡每一天
Fuck you pay me 請你給錢
Get rich or die trying 就像 50 CENT (GGG G-UNIT)
萬
888S