The homie, Hobie

Sent from my iPhone

Untitled. 2025
Frankie S. should not be saying this
They’ve either faked this shit or he’s erasing it
Thinking maybe this whole game is fixed
We’re all taking hits, straight aim or miss
Orangutans and chimps, caged, caked in shit
Entertain the simps, we’re all trained to sit
I’ll be trading fists until I’m made to quit
If I’m an atheist, then come face the grinch
If basic wit can make you flinch
I got game to spit to the lames you with
The insanely rich got planes and ships
Then change to snitch when facing bits
What makes me sick is the racists fits
Keep shaking that fist at laziness
An angry bitch ain’t changing shit
That’s a janky fix like “hang that witch”
Chains and whips and flames and pits
Watch me taking risk just for the sake of it
Still raise my kids with praise and gifts
Then blaze a spliff and replay the disc
Change my grip so you cant gain an inch
Stay appraising shit with an angled twist
Add a bass and kit and I’ll make a hit
I ain’t no plagiarist. I was made for this
Think I’m done

A Frankie Sinatra Silent Event:

gnarled gnats and foreign gnomes align high-rise bullfights through insight and design. Tough neighbors caught signs of lightning at fight night.

Welcome Ant, a real one, to StudiOG.

StudiOG welcomes my man, Tat2. A mother fuckin Real One. Happy Halloween

StudiOG welcomes Gage. The next Generation of Super Computer Nerd Psychopaths is among us. At least they appear to be on Our side.

Fuck tha World, Get Out and Vote

2pac 4president