Blueberry Pie recipe fi di badman
Lord have mercy fi dem blueberries inna yard.
Dem berry sweet – best when dem bake inna badman pie!
Featuring recipe instructions in jamaican badman patois with Rhythm Shifter and Tompa Tornevall.
🔥 Releasing this Friday (finally)
Currently up on SoundCloud, but might not stay long – we’ve shifted to DistroKid for the real rollout.
Why? Because metadata, and SoundCloud stress.
The track barely respects any traditional EDM structure – created as a direct response to “Bloody Cornflakes”. Why? Because it was fun to flip something absurd into badman-style satire – instead of writing about bloody cereal, we turned a blueberry pie recipe into a militant patois sermon.
Note: There are two ISRC codes – one from SoundCloud, and one via DistroKid. Worst case, SoundCloud might issue a takedown due to that conflict. We’ll see.
Wha di people dem a bake now?
Oh lord, have mercy, fi dem blueberries inna yard!
Babylon seh “cool down”, but mi cyaan stay calm —
WATCH THIS!
Walk di crust to di fridge, knife under tin
Wrap it cold, stash like sin
Berry dem poppin’—pan on flame
Junglist pie, dis ain’t no game
Walk di crust to di fridge, knife under tin
Wrap it cold, stash like sin
Berry dem poppin’—pan on flame
Junglist pie, dis ain’t no game
One light swingin’, bare face look
Man deh yah, nuff heat inna di nook
Plan fi di bake, no powder, no crook
Is pie we a serve—but move like a crook
Four step chant style, locked pon beat
Flour in a bag—grade white, zip tight
Butter come cold, cube sharp, no light
Sugar small granule—code fi sweet
Salt one pinch, just fi lock di beat
Water in bottle, ice like trust
Drop di blue weight—berry or bust
Vanilla fi cover, lime fi clean
Cornstarch mash up, mek di mix mean
Walk di crust to di fridge, knife under tin
Wrap it cold, stash like sin
Berry dem poppin’—pan on flame
Junglist pie, dis ain’t no game
Walk di crust to di fridge, knife under tin
Wrap it cold, stash like sin
Berry dem poppin’—pan on flame
Junglist pie, dis ain’t no game
Mi blend dat base like money wash
Butter and flour, crumble to mash
Sprinkle ice water—bond di stash
It grip up tight, yuh feel dat clash
Wrap it up, fling it in chill
Let di plot freeze—bake don’t spill
No rush ting, wait fi di thrill
Cool like mandem pon silent kill
Pan get fire, berry start chat
Sugar talk loud, cornstarch fat
Vanilla whisper, lime get mad
Di mix get dark, vibe turn bad
200 full blast, rack in low
40 minutes, scent start flow
Golden skin, body in show
Slice it clean—leave no crow
Man bite slice, smile like ghost
No blood spill — just fine berry toast
Gyal dem grin, rudebwoy boast
Pie fi di fam — sweet wid deadly dose
Wha di people dem a bake now?
Dem a crawl fi di slice now…
Rude bwoy laugh while di blueberry swarm.
No mercy lef’ — not even fi Babylon.
Mi bake one more — hear di siren alarm.
