No Luck isn’t just another tape — it’s a snapshot of my inner world, told across six confessional tracks. It’s about resilience when everything feels like it’s slipping, and finding some kind of power in being broken but still pushing forward. I didn’t produce the beats on this project, but I did everything else — wrote it, recorded it, mixed it, mastered it. These are my truths, dressed up in melody, rhythm, and pain.
"I’m like fuck an angel number / I don’t need luck..."
This song sets the tone. It’s raw defiance. The world keeps throwing signs and spiritual messages at me — but when you’re in the trenches, it’s hard to believe in numbers on clocks. “Angel Numbers” is me embracing my scars, laughing through the trauma, and making peace with isolation. It’s post-traumatic resilience masked in cocky cadence.
"Can you understand my head? / Been a long time since anyone was happy around my end..."
“Forces” flips the energy sonically but stays heavy underneath. It plays with bravado and vulnerability. One minute it sounds like a flex anthem, the next it’s a suicide note. I’m speaking to the weight of expectations, failed connections, and the mental toll of always being "on." It’s a smile hiding a scream.
"This pain that’s in my heart / Just leave it in the sky..."
This is the emotional center of the tape. “Heartbreak Hotel” is about what happens after everything falls apart — love, trust, freedom. It’s not just about romance — it’s about disillusionment with the world and the justice system, and the paranoia of being young and Black in America. The outro reflects that weight: "Most the time it feels like I’m the only one." I meant that.
"If I die tonight / Tell me will you keep my secrets..."
"Tell Me" is introspection over melody. It’s like a prayer said under your breath, hoping someone hears it. I open up about numbness, heartbreak, and the scars of young love. The outro flips that mood and becomes a manifesto for the long run — it’s me reminding myself that I’m not in this for fast fame. I’m here for the legacy.
"Hope the Lord accepts me how I am / Fuck the world, accept me how I am..."
“I Am” is identity in free fall. It’s about depression, disconnection, and trying to survive yourself. I wanted to write something that feels like reaching your lowest point and still deciding to make art out of it. It’s a letter from Ohio’s shadows, and it’s one of the most honest songs I’ve ever recorded.
"Even Jesus got nailed / And my heart is about to shatter..."
This is the closer, the journal entry, the thesis. “Message” doesn’t sugarcoat anything. It’s about faith, addiction, disillusionment, and loss — but also the weird hope that someone might still hear you. The outro includes a clip about doing what you love over chasing money, and that’s the truth that holds this whole EP together.
I dropped No Luck in between building Save Me Sensei Act II. It’s not a sequel to New Moon or Death Note — it’s a bridge. A confessional detour. I’ve been making music for nearly a decade, but this one feels like a timestamp. Like the moment where I’m starting to own my pain, not run from it.
A raw and melodic EP that turns trauma into testimony. “I’m like fuck an angel number, I don’t need luck…” sets the tone for a project that finds beauty in surviving, not pretending. (Hip hop)