It’s list season, and I wouldn’t be a (*winky face*) hack if I didn’t inform you of some comically singular, selfly-important-to-me album that will (undoubtedly) be overlooked. All goofs aside, this Mister Mathews tape that came out a wee bit ago is a real burner, and, if you are so inclined, toats deserves a listen. Or two. Or tow. Or thirty. Or throaty. Or whatever. Brass tacks down: scope this fucking jammer.
So much happens. So much crappens. So much slappens. So much…
So much.
So much.
Listen.
Or don’t. Don’t care (*nonchalant shoulder shrug*… No fucks given… Puffs a vape pen…. Side winks at a dank tree… Toats dabs and daps across the board, brah).
More about: Mister Matthews
