fiveprestos

5y

need to mutually follow eachuva

Lord Quas

5y

Not gonna happen.

the end

5y

On a humid Atlanta night, nestled in the hidden corridors of a haunted Masonic lodge, Mike Dean stumbled into Kanye West's makeshift office. It was inhabited by the man himself, a desk of solid gold, and a folding chair for visitors.

When Mike Dean walked through the door, he could hardly speak for acute dehydration.

"Kanye..."

Kanye West looked up peevishly from his daily visit to Hentai Haven. "The hell you want, Mike? You have my mixes, you son of a b****?"

"I haven't slept since June..."

"I ain't want to hear any of your crying!" Kanye pounded his fist on the ostentatious solid gold desk and immediately regretted it. He began to cry himself. "Is DONDA finished?"

"Here you go," Mike Dean said, surrendering his MacBook Pro. "Can I sit down?"

Kanye gave one disgusted look to his old friend before pulling the laptop closer to himself. "No. F*** you."

He pressed play on an Apple Music playlist of the songs and listened to their days of hard work for five seconds. Kanye stopped the first track and gestured Mike Dean to a nearby staircase leading up to the roof, taking the laptop with him.

Below them, they could see Atlanta in all its finery, and its millions of people, some of them still recovering from the DONDA listening party the night before.

Without saying a word, Kanye nonchalantly threw the laptop off the building. Mike Dean watched it hit the ground below and smash into countless pieces.

Kanye looked down upon his friend with disgust. "Make a classic by August 6th or I'm putting you in a home!" One could hear a distant peal of thunder as rain began to fall.

As his longtime friend returned to his office, Mike Dean fell to the ground, alternating sobs and fits of laughter. This was his breaking point. What do you get when you cross a tired, d*** addicted producer with an artist that abandons him and treats him like trash?

Mike Dean had become the Joker, baby.

MORROW

5y

Finally completed chopping all the tracks from the stream and increasing the volume on each one of them

jack bauer BÙĻĽÝ

5y

pls pls

thnx

MORROW

5y

Finally completed chopping all the tracks from the stream and increasing the volume on each one of them

MORROW

5y

follow and i'll dm you the link too b since we need to follow each other to send dm's here

jack bauer BÙĻĽÝ

5y

wri wri

Tricks

5y

junya watanabe on my cocc

yungkulfii

5y

pm pls

the end

5y

On a humid Atlanta night, nestled in the hidden corridors of a haunted Masonic lodge, Mike Dean stumbled into Kanye West's makeshift office. It was inhabited by the man himself, a desk of solid gold, and a folding chair for visitors.

When Mike Dean walked through the door, he could hardly speak for acute dehydration.

"Kanye..."

Kanye West looked up peevishly from his daily visit to Hentai Haven. "The hell you want, Mike? You have my mixes, you son of a b****?"

"I haven't slept since June..."

"I ain't want to hear any of your crying!" Kanye pounded his fist on the ostentatious solid gold desk and immediately regretted it. He began to cry himself. "Is DONDA finished?"

"Here you go," Mike Dean said, surrendering his MacBook Pro. "Can I sit down?"

Kanye gave one disgusted look to his old friend before pulling the laptop closer to himself. "No. F*** you."

He pressed play on an Apple Music playlist of the songs and listened to their days of hard work for five seconds. Kanye stopped the first track and gestured Mike Dean to a nearby staircase leading up to the roof, taking the laptop with him.

Below them, they could see Atlanta in all its finery, and its millions of people, some of them still recovering from the DONDA listening party the night before.

Without saying a word, Kanye nonchalantly threw the laptop off the building. Mike Dean watched it hit the ground below and smash into countless pieces.

Kanye looked down upon his friend with disgust. "Make a classic by August 6th or I'm putting you in a home!" One could hear a distant peal of thunder as rain began to fall.

As his longtime friend returned to his office, Mike Dean fell to the ground, alternating sobs and fits of laughter. This was his breaking point. What do you get when you cross a tired, d*** addicted producer with an artist that abandons him and treats him like trash?

Mike Dean had become the Joker, baby.

Vile

5y

Excuse me what? THIS is what people enjoy listening to in 2021?

First thing first, this album is pretentious garbage, with the worst vocals and lyrics I've ever had the misfortune of hearing and reading.
The vocals are performed in a half-singing, half-spoken word manner, and they absolutely irritate the s*** out of me. They have this "listen to me, I'm important" tone to them. No thanks.

Then there is the arty jazzy instrumentation which only exists to support the vocals, and emphasize the embarrassing lyrics. Like "Leave Kanye out of this"? tf does that mean? This is the 'listen once then forget' kinda album, it's like reading a novel, who the hell would come back for it after you already know every twist and turn? Well, my time has come to forget, cheers.

MORROW

5y

follow and i follow b, so i can pm the link

MORROW

5y

Finally completed chopping all the tracks from the stream and increasing the volume on each one of them

MLI

5y

dm pls

bakedinatlanta

5y

thank you brother

MORROW

5y

done

the end

5y

On a humid Atlanta night, nestled in the hidden corridors of a haunted Masonic lodge, Mike Dean stumbled into Kanye West's makeshift office. It was inhabited by the man himself, a desk of solid gold, and a folding chair for visitors.

When Mike Dean walked through the door, he could hardly speak for acute dehydration.

"Kanye..."

Kanye West looked up peevishly from his daily visit to Hentai Haven. "The hell you want, Mike? You have my mixes, you son of a b****?"

"I haven't slept since June..."

"I ain't want to hear any of your crying!" Kanye pounded his fist on the ostentatious solid gold desk and immediately regretted it. He began to cry himself. "Is DONDA finished?"

"Here you go," Mike Dean said, surrendering his MacBook Pro. "Can I sit down?"

Kanye gave one disgusted look to his old friend before pulling the laptop closer to himself. "No. F*** you."

He pressed play on an Apple Music playlist of the songs and listened to their days of hard work for five seconds. Kanye stopped the first track and gestured Mike Dean to a nearby staircase leading up to the roof, taking the laptop with him.

Below them, they could see Atlanta in all its finery, and its millions of people, some of them still recovering from the DONDA listening party the night before.

Without saying a word, Kanye nonchalantly threw the laptop off the building. Mike Dean watched it hit the ground below and smash into countless pieces.

Kanye looked down upon his friend with disgust. "Make a classic by August 6th or I'm putting you in a home!" One could hear a distant peal of thunder as rain began to fall.

As his longtime friend returned to his office, Mike Dean fell to the ground, alternating sobs and fits of laughter. This was his breaking point. What do you get when you cross a tired, d*** addicted producer with an artist that abandons him and treats him like trash?

Mike Dean had become the Joker, baby.

jack bauer BÙĻĽÝ

5y

goated