Coined at the Oregon Symphony during Tchaikovsky v. Drake, this is my Life told through song lyrics and my poetic ruckus. So, find your favorite line and maybe I’ll share the story with you… But thank the artists first, they bring our stories to light. Their words and art are an expression of their people, and their people are you!
December 12, 2018

The Soundtrack: Volume II

No pop, no style, I’m strictly words. Majority truth.

Mistakenly a cocky son of the dead rich. But no will over his dead body. Crying up hilltops of glory, telling a story of a past worry…

And so, the songs finally have a true meaning to me, and not just hopeful pipe dreams.

Coming to Fruition a bit early, and overstanding why the Sun shines with you. But it wouldn’t be until after I was sadly over his dead body.

Before I got caught up in girls, girls, and more girl’s worlds, I wondered about heaven’s ghetto. Would my dad see it the same way as he did the ghetto on Earth?

Crazy girl.

Because Blue, is my color. Blue is my house. Blue is my home, the one my father and I had lived and grown. Now, a Blue house they say I fiduciarily own. Much further than Dekum‘s, it’s down below the Hilltop of glory’s thrown.

If they wanna’ know what was going on in the South, Blue is also the kin house down in the South. Louisiana is hot.

But country is in the heart.

Whoever thought I’d get my dad back any way, but it wouldn’t be long until I was over his dead body.

So, you woulda’ thought we come from Trench Town, freeing the people through music. But we come from Portland, Oregon. And I write to free people of anxiety and turn it into laughter.

Baton Rouge’s bastard. Who are they calling savages?

I understand it’ll be a while before people comprehend that fundamental of human emotion. After all, Umi did remind me to shine my light on the world. Shine it on those who feel today couldn’t have possibly been the best day ever.

But who woulda’ thought, it would grow from the scary days in the concrete floored apartment; a flower from there would grow you know.

It was like Lisztomania in the head, no where to go but that emotional oath. Their wasn’t really any kickin’ back til LA became 2 hours away.

An evident War with God. I just had to breathe. I couldn’t breathe without you, but I had to. People are people and sometimes it doesn’t work out.

But I make me proud. American Dreamin’, Can I Live?

Days of Ol’ English, Black Panthers, Illuminati, free mason, now a freelancer and a word enhancer.

Don’t blink twice this is an uptown society, I’m often cocky, with subtle mental capacity.

I’m unforgettable, do I still cross your mind? And deep down I feel like ‘I ain’t shit’.

More importantly I had an excellent father, and his strength didn’t make me stronger until he died.

Over his dead body.

Would you overstand if you understood?

That’s exactly why I hate the game! How was I supposed to know losing and failure is a choice? That’s for any one who knows my story. The one running up Hilltops of glory.

Untouchable, unstoppable, and undesirable if you can comprehend. The vibe is right, top ranking and writing. No corporate fighting.

Her love is King.

Shout out to Lauren Hill.

Today, finally, I think she really likes me. She’s the synergy for my world going round’. I told leaders I’d be rising up yonder; they never respected it. Now I can speak broader above them as they laugh at subordinate emails then ponder.

They’ll hear me speak on accident murderers  the sucka’s of society. Making people cause a ruckus, what’s wrong with society? Regardless they’ll spin it to remind niggas we aren’t heard entirely. They’ll ignore truth. Because it’s easier to admit to their own, the truth learnt in their home.

I heard a few great men speak, on the new album with Meek.

Because most of us are truly ignorant of a plan. Ignorant of world demand.

Don’t mistake this for GOD’s plan.

Your attention. Which is often spent man! Now you have a man, knowing enough to be dangerous again.

Label me how you feel, it’s often mis-scanned.

But when you meet me, I’ll welcome you to the good life. Yeah like, Summa time chi….

That’s free. Thanks me.

Onto bigger things, like wordplay. So, relax, it’s your DAY!

Play the song of a good emotional oath.

Like the salesman in You, the writer’s in I.

Like the provider in You, the writer’s in I.

Like the worker in You, the writer’s in I.

Like the teacher in You, the writer’s in I.

Strut the white collar, wipe the blue collar you claim, I write to avoid fame. Most influencers calling the kettle black, underwhelmingly lame.

Ya’ll see that fancy Alto Saxophone, last week it was delivered to my home.

I do this for the people and a culture overworked under a made up throne.

In 2019, follow my pursuit of relearning the Alto Saxophone. The only instrument I’ve picked back up thrice now, calling my own. It all started a long time ago, Kenny G through the stereo, Boss.


Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

3 Comment on “The Soundtrack: Volume II

  1. Pingback: Repurpose Your Favorite Song |

  2. Pingback: #AMWriting: Divine IX: Bourgeoisie I (Chapter Preview) |

  3. Pingback: The Soundtrack: Volume III |

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