GalaxyThePharaoh

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

3am in February feels like the hour when your phone is face-down, the room is dark, and every thought suddenly gets louder. This EP plays like a confession whispered through silk sheets and neon streetlights—late-night R&B built for insomniacs, lovers, and people replaying old conversations in their head. The production is where the project quietly flexes. Ca$h Marley lays down lush, slow-burning soundscapes that feel warm but wounded—keys that drip like candle wax and basslines that pulse like a tired heart. Bradley Rivas sharpens the edges with cinematic textures and subtle drum programming, giving the record a modern polish without breaking its intimacy. And then there’s GalaxyThePharaoh, who not only carries the vocals but owns the entire vision—steering the EP with a producer’s ear and an artist’s emotional honesty, making every track feel personal instead of performative. Lyrically, this is music about the in-between: not heartbreak yet, not healing yet—just sitting inside the ache. The hooks don’t beg for attention; they linger. The melodies don’t rush; they haunt. 3am in February isn’t trying to be loud or trendy—it’s trying to be true. And in a genre that lives or dies on mood, this EP understands its mission perfectly: soundtrack the night when love feels complicated, memory feels heavy, and sleep feels optional.

“12 Summers” is a raw and emotional breakup anthem that captures the pain of love lost and the weight of memories that linger long after. With heartfelt lyrics and cinematic production, this track takes listeners on a journey through heartbreak, reflection, and letting go. Stream, share, and let “12 Summers” be the soundtrack to your late-night thoughts.

Big Body Benz by Galaxy

Intro (Break The Code) by Galaxy

Cuban Link by Galaxy

Clock Work Freestyle by Galaxy

Killstreak (Feat) Holmes by Galaxy

Ok? by Galaxy

Interlude (Trust No Hoe) by Galaxy

Tongue Off A Snake by Galaxy

Add It Up by Galaxy

One Shot Kill (Sideshow Bob) by Galaxy

Need A Mink by Galaxy

With "No PreTend," GalaxyThePharaoh cements his status as a visionary artist unbound by genre or expectation. It's more than just a song—it's a declaration of individuality, a testament to the power of music to transcend boundaries and unite us in our shared humanity. Get ready to lose yourself in the cosmic soundscape of GalaxyThePharaoh's "No PreTend," and join him on a journey to a world where authenticity reigns supreme.

Rocket Love" is an EP that chronicles the rollercoaster ride of romantic relationships. The title track, "Rocket Love," sets the stage with an upbeat and infectious energy, capturing the initial thrill of falling in love. As the EP progresses, tracks like "Juicy" , "Feels Right", and "Touching On Me" explore the blissful moments, while "Numb The Pain (Cry Me A River)" and "TBH" delve into the inevitable challenges and conflicts that arise. Tracks like "Bacardi" and "Flawda Hoe" encapsulates the Freedom/Healing Process of not being tied down and wanting to go out and have fun.

Rocket Love" is an EP that chronicles the rollercoaster ride of romantic relationships. The title track, "Rocket Love," sets the stage with an upbeat and infectious energy, capturing the initial thrill of falling in love. As the EP progresses, tracks like "Juicy" , "Feels Right", and "Touching On Me" explore the blissful moments, while "Numb The Pain (Cry Me A River)" and "TBH" delve into the inevitable challenges and conflicts that arise. Tracks like "Bacardi" and "Flawda Hoe" encapsulates the Freedom/Healing Process of not being tied down and wanting to go out and have fun.

Rocket Love" is an EP that chronicles the rollercoaster ride of romantic relationships. The title track, "Rocket Love," sets the stage with an upbeat and infectious energy, capturing the initial thrill of falling in love. As the EP progresses, tracks like "Juicy" , "Feels Right", and "Touching On Me" explore the blissful moments, while "Numb The Pain (Cry Me A River)" and "TBH" delve into the inevitable challenges and conflicts that arise. Tracks like "Bacardi" and "Flawda Hoe" encapsulates the Freedom/Healing Process of not being tied down and wanting to go out and have fun.

Rocket Love" is an EP that chronicles the rollercoaster ride of romantic relationships. The title track, "Rocket Love," sets the stage with an upbeat and infectious energy, capturing the initial thrill of falling in love. As the EP progresses, tracks like "Juicy" , "Feels Right", and "Touching On Me" explore the blissful moments, while "Numb The Pain (Cry Me A River)" and "TBH" delve into the inevitable challenges and conflicts that arise. Tracks like "Bacardi" and "Flawda Hoe" encapsulates the Freedom/Healing Process of not being tied down and wanting to go out and have fun.

Rocket Love" is an EP that chronicles the rollercoaster ride of romantic relationships. The title track, "Rocket Love," sets the stage with an upbeat and infectious energy, capturing the initial thrill of falling in love. As the EP progresses, tracks like "Juicy" , "Feels Right", and "Touching On Me" explore the blissful moments, while "Numb The Pain (Cry Me A River)" and "TBH" delve into the inevitable challenges and conflicts that arise. Tracks like "Bacardi" and "Flawda Hoe" encapsulates the Freedom/Healing Process of not being tied down and wanting to go out and have fun.

Rocket Love" is an EP that chronicles the rollercoaster ride of romantic relationships. The title track, "Rocket Love," sets the stage with an upbeat and infectious energy, capturing the initial thrill of falling in love. As the EP progresses, tracks like "Juicy" , "Feels Right", and "Touching On Me" explore the blissful moments, while "Numb The Pain (Cry Me A River)" and "TBH" delve into the inevitable challenges and conflicts that arise. Tracks like "Bacardi" and "Flawda Hoe" encapsulates the Freedom/Healing Process of not being tied down and wanting to go out and have fun.

PROVE EM WRONG

Second Single off of my New EP "Rocket Love" very grown and sexy vibes something you play to rizz a shordie Produced by me

"Flawda Hoe" is a lively and provocative track that delves into the vibrant and promiscuous lifestyle of a young Floridian woman. The song combines upbeat and catchy production with bold, unapologetic lyrics that paint a vivid picture of the character's experiences.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

Hard.

GALAXYSZNIII

F L O R I D A