When an earthquake shakes the ground beneath us, we start running.  When a bassline shakes the same ground–with the same magnitude–we start laughing and raging.

We broke in a new subwoofer the other day (150 inches–is that legal???) and every single window crumbled to dust.  Beach-quality sand, we shit you not.   And we’re not complaining about the bill at all–it’s fucking summer and we’re making a mufucking BEACH.  Win-win, friends.

Aaaanyway onto the culprate behind our man-made beach: KELLY DEANNNNNNNNN.

This sinister producer guarantees rage-lash (aka rage-induced whiplash) and irregular heart palpitations with every track.  We’re more than excited to show you two of our favorites: King ShitErryoody Knows Me.

Don’t feel gangster enough for those names?  After one listen, you’ll be ready to beat your best friend into a pulp.  Since we’re calling our broken glass is a beach …we’ll call this pulp a compost.  Yee.  That’s some eco-friendly violence right there.

Now get crunk:


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