Kamushek & MagicBullet
Kamushek Kamushek
MagicBullet MagicBullet
MagicBullet MagicBullet
Ever notice how the alley behind the old brick walls is the same place where a sniper and a street poet both find their rhythm?
Kamushek Kamushek
Yeah, those cracked bricks are a stage for everyone—silence for the sniper, rhyme for the poet, but both find their groove in the same hollow.
MagicBullet MagicBullet
It’s funny how the same silence that tightens a trigger can still inspire a verse. Keeps you on your toes, though.
Kamushek Kamushek
That's the irony of the city—one breath holds a bullet, the next breath spits a line. Keeps the streets alive, even when everything feels still.