mix tapes and albums are different. Mixtapes uses some one elses instrumentel. anyone can make a mix tape. Albums are harder to make they take more time and
A compilation of favorite pieces of music, typically by different artists, recorded onto a cassette tape or other medium by an individual. A home-made compilation of music (typically copyrighted songs taken from other sources) recorded in a specific order, traditionally onto an audio cassette, though CD or MP3 playlist formats are now more common.
He thought he’d impress her by making her a playlist of songs he handpicked himself, sort of like a mixtape, but nobody makes those anymore, and she probably doesn’t even have a cassette player at home either. So he hijacked her ipod that she only uses everytime she goes jogging and put the songs in there instead.
He thought he’d impress her by making her a playlist of songs he handpicked himself, sort of like a mixtape, but nobody makes those anymore, and she probably doesn’t even have a cassette at home either. So he hijacked her ipod that she only uses everytime she goes jogging and put the songs in there instead.
fire emoji. breaking speakers on a boombox. @ a basketball court with chain nets. Dunking on a thug with tattoos and him beating me up. He gets arrested and goes to jail, but my mix tape changed his life forever.
i have no idea what a mixtape is i am gusseting it ix a tape with multiple things on it that is just what is think thought. if u know what a mixtape is.
When I threw away my mixtape the trash can caught on fire it was so lit. The police came to my house and tried to find out the cause of it, but only dug up my mixture which survived the fire. The only explanation was that my mixtape was so fire that it caused my trash can to blow up sky high.
Beat boxing is only good when you can actually do it. Words. Rhymes. All of the times. I can only be one human, but I can be it all the time. If only I could be better at speaking in public because if I were then I could drop a sick mixtape all of the time. Time is short so make it beast. Bbb 123 everybody likes you like a beast like the west
I think of a Brooklyn basketball court. Hightop’s. The first tape I made in my room, on the carpet, acting like my father at the restaurant. I think of the spanish lessons that accompanied the spanish book my mother bought me – when my father could have just spoken to me.
people say there mixtape is fire but it is not. i heard a mixtape where half of it was just train sounds wich is really weird. trains are also really weird. like they can go in only one direction
Mixtape is very interesting. I use it all the time. I like how versatile it is. One day I hope to have others join me for a brainstorming session to share ideas on how to best utilize mixtape.
The music began to waft over her and the tears started shortly thereafter. Oh wow. There were a lot of memories associated with this music.
Crap.
Crap crap crap.
Why does it have the feel like this?
She clicked the music off and kept driving, shaking the tears out of her face.
he played the mixtape they had recorded together, wishing is was still 1987 not 2017, but it was not possible to go back now, he knew that. She could have joined him anyway.
I listened to CHildish Gambinos mixtapes a lot when he first released. Not really sure why but I certainly liked them. I found it weird that they were caled mixtapes when i had just downloaded a bunch of mp3s but I guess phones still use the old school icon for phone whe you want to make a call… Somethings jut stick around I guess.
The tape was an old one, coated in a layer of the type of dust you rub off on your jeans, cringing a little at the dry feeling and staving off a sneeze.
wind and wind on, the reel shines in the dull attic light. she pulls at the film, gripping her claws in playtime, kicking her feet at the new toy, rolling in dust and lost in the made up game .
With a quick hop she leapt off the rock.
“Look, if you’re not coming, then I’m going on my own.”
He was silent.
The walkman in her hands shifted as her grip on it tightened. The headphones slung around her neck felt like lead despite their thin weight.
“I need to know what this is, and why it’s so important.”
He opened his mouth, but it was too late.
She was gone, and with her the last hope.
Today started with my madness. i came to school and was a bit frustrated like always.
Bought the cold breakfast from the cafeteria to eat. Could not stop thinking of my life.
He is not the same person. I dont know what i am requiring from my relationship but it’s like i’m losing everything. I have never felt like this before. It’s been 7 months we are together. I love him so much but he does not seem like he cares at all. I really have no idea what to do. He has been so cold to me and i think im sad and i will be cold too
Your voice is stuck in my head, on repeat because I will it to be. How you grinned and told me your name, and in that moment the few frames of my poor memory has fed my obsession for weeks. You’re too cool for one, but I’d hug you to death with a mixtape of ballads and old R’n’B.
I can’t deny how I feel for you. It may be wrong, it may be unprecedented, it may be the scariest thing I could ever imagine but it’s there. It’s there and it’s too great to ignore. So I will formulate a collection of my deepest and darkest secrets in melodies that remind me of you. Embedded in their meanings I hope mine resonates.
Feeling this way, this heart-coming-up-my-throat way, this my-head-is-going-to-explode-from-thinking-of-you way, this tongue-twister, this my-hands-are-trembling, this curling into a ball of desire. My incessant emotions have consumed me.
Society wants me to go back where I “belong”. You know, that out of sight out of mind “logic”. How the hell can I turn them off? Even if I knew how I wouldn’t. I know deep down I don’t want to.
What is so beautiful but yet so eccentric is that the whole “love” thing seems so impossible until it is within you. While a piece of me is forever holding a place for you, I can only dream you are in turn holding a place for me.
How I wish I could turn our love song into the melodic arrangement of words that once caused me to feel that heart-tugging, overwhelming, never-ending sense of connectedness with you. Where my stream of consciousness melted with yours, our lungs rising and collapsing along with the rhythm. They always said we were inseparable; unbreakable. The idea that our slamming hips could turn into slammed doors was unthinkable until it was. And now, battered and tangled, our mixtape is shattered, the memory of what was never to be attained again.
I used to create mixtapes from various tapes I would get at the library. There is something about making a mixtape that is a joy similar to other creative tasks. It is like writing a story. What song goes with which songÉ
“You know what a mixtape” makes me feel? He looked at her bewildered.
“It’s all mess, that’s what. Like duct, strong, scotch..all of it wound up in a darn sticky mess!”
I made a mixtape
Just for you
It has your name on it
and all I thought we could be
But you threw it out
with my heart
and you tossed me aside
according to every ones doubt
You don’t care about us
or what we meant
you gave up on me
and were hell bent
on breaking my heart
and crushing my soul
life is too tough
and takes a toll
on your spiritual wealth
and mental health
un mixtape pour attraper
la toile qui lui pend du nez
un mixtape pour confesser
les araignées qui s’essayent
à se sauver
un mixtape pour toujours, un mixtape pour l’amour
un mixtape à se taper sur les doigts
un mixtape qui n’en finit pas
un mixtape pour changer la toune
un mixtape pour ne pas arrêter
un mixtape comme on n’en fait à peine plus
He said he was going to make me a mixtape. I remembered all my favorite mixtapes I’ve been given, the love and care suffused into the decoration of the CD and the selection of songs. And I remember the other mixtape I’d received.
I hope it will be like the first ones.
We stepped off the street, into a black-and-red hotel with the VACANCY sign lit in the middle of the day. Got a room. There was an old-school boom box on the nightstand, he popped in a mixtape he made in the ’90s, when he was in his 20s. David Bowie. Nirvana. He laid next to me on the comforter.
He pressed the cool plastic into the palm of her hand.
“What is it?” she asked, unable to look for herself because of his firm grip on her wrist.
“Remember the night we spent on the roof? Right after my dad died?”
“Yes.”
“When I’m gone, I want you to climb up to that same spot. I want you to listen to it on that old cassette player we bought at the thrift store, and I want you to find Orion’s belt. Can you do that for me?”
The lump in her throat kept the words from escaping. Instead, she nodded, lowering her eyes to hide the moisture seeping out.
The Buddhist temples were near each other, and they had their festivals for the Buddhist Lent on the same day. While naga boats raced in the Mekong, all the vendors had their loudspeakers turned up high, with their own favorite songs so the whole effect of the scene was a crazy mixtape of traditional songs, pop songs and the announcers’ voices detailing the progress of the boat races.
mix tapes and albums are different. Mixtapes uses some one elses instrumentel. anyone can make a mix tape. Albums are harder to make they take more time and
MY MIXTAPE IS STRAIGHT FIRE FAM!!!!!!
A compilation of favorite pieces of music, typically by different artists, recorded onto a cassette tape or other medium by an individual. A home-made compilation of music (typically copyrighted songs taken from other sources) recorded in a specific order, traditionally onto an audio cassette, though CD or MP3 playlist formats are now more common.
He thought he’d impress her by making her a playlist of songs he handpicked himself, sort of like a mixtape, but nobody makes those anymore, and she probably doesn’t even have a cassette player at home either. So he hijacked her ipod that she only uses everytime she goes jogging and put the songs in there instead.
He thought he’d impress her by making her a playlist of songs he handpicked himself, sort of like a mixtape, but nobody makes those anymore, and she probably doesn’t even have a cassette at home either. So he hijacked her ipod that she only uses everytime she goes jogging and put the songs in there instead.
fire emoji. breaking speakers on a boombox. @ a basketball court with chain nets. Dunking on a thug with tattoos and him beating me up. He gets arrested and goes to jail, but my mix tape changed his life forever.
i have no idea what a mixtape is i am gusseting it ix a tape with multiple things on it that is just what is think thought. if u know what a mixtape is.
When I threw away my mixtape the trash can caught on fire it was so lit. The police came to my house and tried to find out the cause of it, but only dug up my mixture which survived the fire. The only explanation was that my mixtape was so fire that it caused my trash can to blow up sky high.
Beat boxing is only good when you can actually do it. Words. Rhymes. All of the times. I can only be one human, but I can be it all the time. If only I could be better at speaking in public because if I were then I could drop a sick mixtape all of the time. Time is short so make it beast. Bbb 123 everybody likes you like a beast like the west
I think of a Brooklyn basketball court. Hightop’s. The first tape I made in my room, on the carpet, acting like my father at the restaurant. I think of the spanish lessons that accompanied the spanish book my mother bought me – when my father could have just spoken to me.
people say there mixtape is fire but it is not. i heard a mixtape where half of it was just train sounds wich is really weird. trains are also really weird. like they can go in only one direction
Mixtape is very interesting. I use it all the time. I like how versatile it is. One day I hope to have others join me for a brainstorming session to share ideas on how to best utilize mixtape.
Ha. Ha. A mixtape to me is a cassette with radio songs recorded on it. Telling my age! Now a mixtape is from I tunes.
THTITIHIAJHIJDSKFJKASJKFJ dkjfkdjkjs jewj
dkjfkjewjijfskl jlajflafjlwe;; ;
lledkdkdjejejllll
lbnkdmkfmslmlellsamleklkslldfls,l,fls
lmslmflmlemwlmelmflasml
mfldmaslmfdldmsl
mmdleamlmlefmlaml
mflsdmlfmlsm
mdlmaslmflmal
mflemwklmlmfglmwlmelfmwlmfldwmlfmlams fjsijf sf jsfjos s ofjoe j so fjsjoje fosppa.
The music began to waft over her and the tears started shortly thereafter. Oh wow. There were a lot of memories associated with this music.
Crap.
Crap crap crap.
Why does it have the feel like this?
She clicked the music off and kept driving, shaking the tears out of her face.
I listened to a mixtape of my favorite artists album.
he played the mixtape they had recorded together, wishing is was still 1987 not 2017, but it was not possible to go back now, he knew that. She could have joined him anyway.
I listened to CHildish Gambinos mixtapes a lot when he first released. Not really sure why but I certainly liked them. I found it weird that they were caled mixtapes when i had just downloaded a bunch of mp3s but I guess phones still use the old school icon for phone whe you want to make a call… Somethings jut stick around I guess.
I think you’re special. I love you. Look how clever I am. Look how interesting I am. Look how diverse my tastes are.
questo momento è il più prezioso, vedi come fugge? e ti insegna a rispettarlo perchè è il tuo e passa ma ritorna in seguito
c’era na vorta quel che c’era. si si si il tempo
The tape was an old one, coated in a layer of the type of dust you rub off on your jeans, cringing a little at the dry feeling and staving off a sneeze.
wind and wind on, the reel shines in the dull attic light. she pulls at the film, gripping her claws in playtime, kicking her feet at the new toy, rolling in dust and lost in the made up game .
People say a girl who rides a motorbike is so cold for her personality.
I am a biker girl and i think it’s kinda true
Sometimes i feel like i wanna ride out at 250 kilometres per an hour and come bach with no heart to feel any pains.
With a quick hop she leapt off the rock.
“Look, if you’re not coming, then I’m going on my own.”
He was silent.
The walkman in her hands shifted as her grip on it tightened. The headphones slung around her neck felt like lead despite their thin weight.
“I need to know what this is, and why it’s so important.”
He opened his mouth, but it was too late.
She was gone, and with her the last hope.
Today started with my madness. i came to school and was a bit frustrated like always.
Bought the cold breakfast from the cafeteria to eat. Could not stop thinking of my life.
He is not the same person. I dont know what i am requiring from my relationship but it’s like i’m losing everything. I have never felt like this before. It’s been 7 months we are together. I love him so much but he does not seem like he cares at all. I really have no idea what to do. He has been so cold to me and i think im sad and i will be cold too
Your voice is stuck in my head, on repeat because I will it to be. How you grinned and told me your name, and in that moment the few frames of my poor memory has fed my obsession for weeks. You’re too cool for one, but I’d hug you to death with a mixtape of ballads and old R’n’B.
I can’t deny how I feel for you. It may be wrong, it may be unprecedented, it may be the scariest thing I could ever imagine but it’s there. It’s there and it’s too great to ignore. So I will formulate a collection of my deepest and darkest secrets in melodies that remind me of you. Embedded in their meanings I hope mine resonates.
Feeling this way, this heart-coming-up-my-throat way, this my-head-is-going-to-explode-from-thinking-of-you way, this tongue-twister, this my-hands-are-trembling, this curling into a ball of desire. My incessant emotions have consumed me.
Society wants me to go back where I “belong”. You know, that out of sight out of mind “logic”. How the hell can I turn them off? Even if I knew how I wouldn’t. I know deep down I don’t want to.
What is so beautiful but yet so eccentric is that the whole “love” thing seems so impossible until it is within you. While a piece of me is forever holding a place for you, I can only dream you are in turn holding a place for me.
How I wish I could turn our love song into the melodic arrangement of words that once caused me to feel that heart-tugging, overwhelming, never-ending sense of connectedness with you. Where my stream of consciousness melted with yours, our lungs rising and collapsing along with the rhythm. They always said we were inseparable; unbreakable. The idea that our slamming hips could turn into slammed doors was unthinkable until it was. And now, battered and tangled, our mixtape is shattered, the memory of what was never to be attained again.
A beautiful mosaic, tiny little pieces of someone’s heart which they have chosen to share with you. Or just some pretty swell tunes.
I used to create mixtapes from various tapes I would get at the library. There is something about making a mixtape that is a joy similar to other creative tasks. It is like writing a story. What song goes with which songÉ
“You know what a mixtape” makes me feel? He looked at her bewildered.
“It’s all mess, that’s what. Like duct, strong, scotch..all of it wound up in a darn sticky mess!”
I made a mixtape
Just for you
It has your name on it
and all I thought we could be
But you threw it out
with my heart
and you tossed me aside
according to every ones doubt
You don’t care about us
or what we meant
you gave up on me
and were hell bent
on breaking my heart
and crushing my soul
life is too tough
and takes a toll
on your spiritual wealth
and mental health
♥L2
(this was terrible)
There was duct tape
scotch tape
masking tape
adding machine tape
adhesive tape
bandaids
all in the drawer
for daddy
un mixtape pour attraper
la toile qui lui pend du nez
un mixtape pour confesser
les araignées qui s’essayent
à se sauver
un mixtape pour toujours, un mixtape pour l’amour
un mixtape à se taper sur les doigts
un mixtape qui n’en finit pas
un mixtape pour changer la toune
un mixtape pour ne pas arrêter
un mixtape comme on n’en fait à peine plus
“Sean made me a mixtape.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that adorable?”
“Dude,” scoffed Roger, “it’s 2016. Who makes mixtapes anymore?”
“Romantic people, that’s who!” barked Lawrence before disappearing into his room. Sheryl laughed and went to the fridge for a bottle of beer.
“Let him have this, Rog’,” she coaxed. “He hasn’t gotten any d*** since college.”
He said he was going to make me a mixtape. I remembered all my favorite mixtapes I’ve been given, the love and care suffused into the decoration of the CD and the selection of songs. And I remember the other mixtape I’d received.
I hope it will be like the first ones.
We stepped off the street, into a black-and-red hotel with the VACANCY sign lit in the middle of the day. Got a room. There was an old-school boom box on the nightstand, he popped in a mixtape he made in the ’90s, when he was in his 20s. David Bowie. Nirvana. He laid next to me on the comforter.
He pressed the cool plastic into the palm of her hand.
“What is it?” she asked, unable to look for herself because of his firm grip on her wrist.
“Remember the night we spent on the roof? Right after my dad died?”
“Yes.”
“When I’m gone, I want you to climb up to that same spot. I want you to listen to it on that old cassette player we bought at the thrift store, and I want you to find Orion’s belt. Can you do that for me?”
The lump in her throat kept the words from escaping. Instead, she nodded, lowering her eyes to hide the moisture seeping out.
The Buddhist temples were near each other, and they had their festivals for the Buddhist Lent on the same day. While naga boats raced in the Mekong, all the vendors had their loudspeakers turned up high, with their own favorite songs so the whole effect of the scene was a crazy mixtape of traditional songs, pop songs and the announcers’ voices detailing the progress of the boat races.