The movement begins.

The label.

Toast to my long overdue success.

Let the games begin.

"Hamilton, with the lead..."

-so mote it be

Dinner and a reindeer...

This blog post is fueled by Just 15 Lemonade and a Swiss Turkey Burger.

I ended up making about 3-4 more albums since Secrets and Privacy.
I also dropped a whole host of music on Christmas (soundcloud.com/chamilton718).
Wisely, I'm staying away from all talk about #TheSonicMovie, but every so often I chime in with ancient wisdom about OMH and SEGA itself.

I believe I'm doing the right thing.

All I have to do is make money.

The rumor is true: I am signed up to run for Congress (under The Green Party) in 2022.
I would've ran in this election, but I have to get better acquainted with NY2 (the district) to better lobby for the county's needs.
Also, I am talking to another record label.
Beggars can't be choosers, but I am definitely worth the weight I don't throw around.
Which, ironically, is the entire music business.

I've noticed that everyone stopped listening to music for enjoyment, and are looking for hits.
You, individual, are not an A&R unless you get that job.
Basically, you're looking for songs you would feel comfortable listening to repeatedly on the radio, as opposed to finding music you can connect/relate to.

My music comes from experience.
My experience comes from professionalism.
Professional is how I carry myself, in every situation.
Even when I'm flipping out about how screwed up things are.
Even Kobe and MJ lost their cool to the refs.

Because they play with passion.

Of all the projects I've... shit... RECORDED, I'm most excited for you guys to hear Just Charles.

I was myself on this album.

Just me, pianos and an acoustic guitar.

Much more, much less.

I actually was myself on this album.

Whether you understand me on it or not.

FDAliens might appreciate it.

Oh.

I'm banned from my home church for talking about SEGA during Sunday Morning Devotion.

Devotion is when anyone can stand up and give their testimony (story on what God has done for them) and sing songs of praise.

I want to go into detail, but it's not worth it to get that angry again.

See?

Growth!

-so mote it be

It all falls back on me...

The best things in life are free.
Except for the individual who provides such.

I have recorded my final bodies of work.
I am not about to commit suicide.
I have a lot of unreleased music.
It costs money to put music on streaming, and is very time consuming.
If you have an Apple product, you indeed can see me and have access to my library.
If you are in Harlem and want exclusive music, find Paris "P Dunner Johnson" and ask him for access.
He has permission to charge you.

Thank you for listening to my testimony.

Secrets and Privacy

Retirement Plan

Then the fun begins.

The Remarkable. 

-so mote it be

Closing Time official lyrics

Check me out. I'm the only raw MC of the 21st century. If you ill, you not human. If I find you ill (rather)...

Charles Hamilton.

I keep it raw like I like infections. Teabow. I like interceptions. And this mic is intercepting the lifeless direction of being the nicest and still being rude. Still being crude, but that's a kind of oil. Tell that other C not to soil her diaper. That'll douse my fire. No Dhalsim. Gettin' screamed at by Mariah? Nigga, I'm higher! ...than any level you could possibly reach. You gotta be next to me. With the cockiest speech. And that last sentence is describing me. And THAT last sentence is followed by honestly. God damnit! Honest Tea?! Charles Eddie-(and the honest in me is saying Eddie means honest; so, I) honestly go HAM on every God damned beat! "GET OUT!" And that's what "GET OUT!" the mic said "GET OUT OF HERE!" But I'm not a queer! So "GET OUT!" I said to it. "GET OUT!" And it exited! "GET OUT OF HERE!" You don't see no fuckin' doubt in here! "GET OUT!" Why? "GET OUT!" You tryna say "GET OUT OF HERE!" to a nigga who's fly? Well, "GET OUT!" Back out... "GET OUT!" Back out... "GET OUT OF HERE" Back outside here' s the guy with the vibe!

Y'all niggas asking for a cover. Fuck outta here! I ain't a Chippendale lover! Shit! I look like Drizzy?! No! I'm busy! And when it comes to snow, I'm far from gettin' grizzly! I mean, FAR from drizzling. Y'all niggas on my "90's" slang; pizzling. But that's 90s + 4 + what-the-fuck-year-were-you-in-when-I-said-what-the-fuck-for,-must-I-quote-it?! MLA! Look at the number, then tell me (at the bottom of the page) I have the deadliest way of expressing my thoughts in a day. I wake up and I'm all the rage. David Cassidy. Come and battle me. I'm laughin be(y)cause, half of these rappers don't even rap. They have a B/Bey in 'em. And they fuckin nest? Surrounded with venom. From what I be spittin' to 'em. And it ends up leaking (-Leik-ing). And going in 'em. Like, "Lionell was mixing my shit and said, 'Yo, end 'em'!'" Now. I must befriend him. Then, go to the beginning and sin with him. Genesis. Holy shit! It's the kid with his Tennises. And the S is for shoes. Who's messing with who. "GET OUT!" Yo. "GET OUT!" 'Cause you faster! "GET OUT OF HERE!" You fuckin' bastard! You loud ass queer! But that means Sonic. Did I say... "GET OUT OF HERE!"? You wouldn't believe me anyway. So hit the highway. You fuckin' Toni's. Keep actin'. Rappin. Jamie Foxx is the captain of this fuckin' hotel. Talk shit about me? I'ma go Sowell. 

Later. 

Out the par with it.

Charles Hamilton.

Catholic Illuminati.

Damn it, I'm DARK with it.

-so mote it be

personal foul.

I didn't want to turn this into my personal blog.
I'm always doing this.
Here I am, in deep meditation and brooding self-observation.
It's best I be blogging right now.

For the first time in 32 years, the spirit of suicide is translating into expression.
Like... right now, I want to carve and do stupid shit to myself.

But I won't!
And I'm not doing it!

I'm proud of myself.

I also came to the conclusion recently that, instead of killing myself or ending the world, I'll just end the lives of those who come against me.

Isn't that what all rappers talk about?

Still, I find euphoric serenity in the feeling of bleeding from the right side of my skull.
I hold secrets in there.
I require privacy for there.
This beer is flirting with the black blood of that side of my head.
This cigar is actually mating with the white meat of the left side of my skull.

I am currently working on myself.
All I talk about is music, and all I talk to is/are people who have hurt me intensely with my best interest at heart.
I have to find a way to please the hearts of everyone I come in contact with, or I will forever be alone and with nothing to show for it.

Either that, or...

Nah.
The best thing I can do, at least for myself, is be more compassionate to those who don't understand me.
My mental health is my problem.
I can only take responsibility for the mean things people have said and done to and about me.
Because I made them say it.
And no one wins if I kill or get killed or go to jail.

See?
i'm learning!


My blood tastes like weed.

-so mote it be

Deez nuts roasting on an open fire...

My Brain Is Alive + Well Isn't This Awkward hit streaming services on some Christian-ly Pagan Holiday coming up.#TheGrinCHThatStoleExMas

— 2020 Hamilton (@charleshamilton) December 1, 2019

-so mote it be

in progress.

-so mote it be

99.7TheBlitz Mix

Long live Rock-n-Roll.

-so mote it be

Official WTTD artwork

I am very proud of my graphic design.

-so mote it be

Now completely complete.

Sampling Rihanna's "Rated R" album.

Villain.



-so mote it be

Break the Glass official lyrics

We just gon' get straight into it. No Hamilton birthday is complete without proper intoxicants. Also ain't the same without company, but... y'all know...

(verse 1)

 A loner like a shark. Alone-r like Malona in the middle of the park. All About the Benjamins. Yes. You know the part. Extra slow. Majestic with the flow. So, time to hit the park. Play the harps. Not playing Haarp, just state of the art. A lot of people sayin' that I play with the sharks, cuttin' my wrists. Suck my dick. Say it's a tarp. Game over. Everybody runnin'. All up in the stomach. I ain't sober. High off life, and that's an understatement. Yet if I get higher, I might get hired. By God. To become Satan. A low blow, don't you know? Get low from blow. Get high from dope. Hire the dope. The highest dope, you know?

(hook)

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the glass, y'all.

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the SHOT glass!

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Are you mad?

Break the SHOT glass!

Break the glass.

Are you mad?

Like... REALLY mad?

Break the glass, y'all!

Break the glass.

(verse 2)

I feel like a pedophile for eating Wendy's. Speaking plenty. Need to see the ending. Like a spoiler alert. Them niggas die inside and they tryna little boy he's a "jerk". I hear you VERY much. I'm not trying to annoy the jerk that came through and did the worm. Grandmaster Sex A. Like "I love The Pyramids!" Said that, yesterday. And people get upset. Especially when I rest and lay on my vestibule. Vertebrate breaking when I nod my head. So I do it quadruple-time. People not used to mine. You ain't following mine. And I just flow. Cypress Hill, while on some blow. While on some dope. While on some pharmaceutical drugs to have me armed fo' sho'... ya know?

(hook)

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the glass, y'all.

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the SHOT glass!

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Are you mad?

Break the SHOT glass!

Break the glass.

Are you mad?

Like... REALLY mad?

Break the glass, y'all!

Break the glass.

(verse 3)

I am The King of Suicide like Jesus. Judas got involved with my music. He indeed is pleased by me trying to die, so suicide, crown me now! I get down! Like "Call me!", when lookin' at the crown. Look around. It's off your head. Like cannibus. Talking to the dead. Walk with The Walking Dead. So awkward how I got no awards instead of the force that I'm giving. It's been all one direction. No pop. So hot. And, no. I don't pop. I know the cost to be a boss. Like my old pops. Hendrix is my father. Sorry, Senior. Atari's cleaner. And SEGA, you are as mean as my fantasy indeed allows you to be, but you WON'T feel lousy with me...

(hook)

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the glass, y'all.

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Break the SHOT glass!

Break the glass.

Break the glass.

Are you mad?

Break the SHOT glass!

Break the glass.

Are you mad?

Like... REALLY mad?

Break the glass, y'all!

Break the glass.

I am almost confused by my influence. And I'm not surprised by the resistence. But The United

States Marine Corps. understands. Eve Jeffries understands. Christopher Rios understands. I'm not cold, aight? 1110. Charles Hamilton. 

-so mote it be

The second wind.

You are the sunshine
in my life,
when the light wants to argue with me.
I light
the night
with your light.

You're the biggest part of me.


TuTu(tt)!



Hybernation
^
^
^
Click that.



-so mote it be

The wrap up.

!

Uno

1110

Thank you, and please.

-so mote it be

Maybe...

-so mote it be

The Gothfather

http://www.mediafire.com/file/xc56j027591g03c/The_Gothfather.zip/file

Or click here.

Actual scriptures.

#NxtSzn

-so mote it be

Be here for Halloween.

-so mote it be

Awaiting Apple...

Name of sound:
The Hamilton Apology

Genres within sound:
Vampire Music/Nu-Hop

Though celebrating rather early, the conclusion is imminent:

I have created my own sound.

There is Dr. Dre's sound, Sony, Bose, and there is The Hamilton Apology. 

As creative as digital, as sturdy as anolog.

Only I know how to do it.

All I'm missing is Sonic.

Hey. I got Toe Jam & Earl around here somewhere...

-so mote it be

Alas! It works! (Update)

Apple, pka Macintosh, definitely has it's own sound.

Another buzzworthy joint from/in the stash...

The first album I completed while in Baltimore.
Further details and you will lose all sanity.
These are facts.



-so mote it be

The Sun & I

-so mote it be

Hamilween Season

My dreams always scare the living out of me.

-so mote it be

Also in the stash...

Any given FRRRRIIIIIIDAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!

[is she still there?]




-so mote it be

PWF! (the artwork)

Alas, my surprises are self-ruined.




-so mote it be

PWF! (the intel)

Punjabi Wrestling Federation.
The new Catholic Illuminati/TWA/Falcon Phoenix.

Done by 11102019.

Stay tuned, here on The Adventures of Pac Ham.

"I want love!"
-Rihanna, "Sell Me Candy"

• 
  

#mudian!
#iT

#captivating


-so mote it be

PWF! (the warning video)

Two sons:

Omen Hamilton
Nirvana Hamilton

Two daughters:

Karma Hamilton
Nature Hamilton

Be on the lookout.

#itsCharles

#mudian!

-so mote it be

Spinnin' wheel, 'round 'n' 'round...

Once again, DJing has saved my life.
As well as Tarot, Witchcraft and Alchemy.

I can now also add The Quran to my arsenal.

It's only fair to worn I was born with a set of horns.

Thank you to my Cousin Roxanne's homeboy for hooking me up with a copy.
I may have mentioned that in 2010, I unintentionally joined Islam.
Before Jail.
Islamic folk know how.

I also said a prayer to Allah in 2011 (in CATS) and it came true.

God, Buddah, Allah and Satan are real.

Hmmm...

SBGA...

something to believe in.

#iT


[i worship the sun and J Dilla is Allah... fignacts]




-so mote it be

Next time, on The Adventures of Pac Ham...

Get fed or die trying.

-so mote it be

To be Pinkballed.

Suck my Right Baltimore.




-so mote it be