Released in April 2025, Big Feelings (with MC Criesalot) is more than just another track – it’s an emotional satire dressed in grime, drill, and liquid DnB. And if you’re wondering who the hell MC Criesalot is, this is the page to find out.
Meet MC Criesalot
MC Criesalot is a fictional drill-grime-hiphoper born out of frustration with the lowest common denominator of modern rap – painfully lazy, ultra-masculine, and about as deep as a parking ticket. Initially inspired by a hilariously bad video from YouTuber Trappdaplugg, this project quickly evolved into a full-blown therapy session set to breakbeats.
He’s not here to flex Bentleys or flaunt women. He’s here to overshare. Loudly. Over looped snares and chamomile-steeped basslines.
Armed with a mic in one hand and a therapy bill in the other, MC Criesalot is a walking contradiction: emotionally fragile, sonically lethal. He’s backed by a crew that includes Big Tissue, Lil Softboy, and the one and only Dr. Delulu – his producer-slash-therapist who ensures the 808s hit just as hard as the heartbreak.
The Story Behind the Track
Thomas Tornevall as The Rhythm Shifter was looking for vocal inspiration for a house project – something edgy but still radio-friendly, in the spirit of Pete & Bas. Instead, he found a rabbit hole of laughably bad rap and realized that the only way forward was sideways.
The early parodies were too faithful to their source. He needed something new. Something broken, but self-aware. That’s when MC Criesalot was born: a wannabe gangster whose biggest threat is an emotionally charged freestyle and a hoodie he never got back.
He’s proof that in 2025, feelings are the deadliest weapon in the booth.
Production Notes
The vocals are AI-enhanced, but every beat, melody, and bassline is handcrafted in the DAW—no shortcuts. Even the AI-generated lyrics were processed and refined manually, to hit the right emotional (and ironic) tone.
This track is 100% original. No samples. No ghostwriters. Just a lot of sad energy.
Why this page?
Because Big Feelings was just the beginning.
MC Criesalot might have started as a joke – but like all great jokes, he reveals uncomfortable truths. About masculinity. About heartbreak. About brunch. We released the track in April, but this character has more to say. This page is here to document what’s next, and explain why so many people are suddenly crying in hoodies and sipping tea on the beat.
Lyrics
Yeah… huh… huh… emotional damage on the beat!
You know you rockin’ wit’ Dr. Delulu… and his therapist.I texted “u up?”—you left me on read, now I’m wildin’, woah
Told my jeweler, “make my necklace cry”, I want diamonds, woah
Huh, yeah, said you was loyal to me—then you liked his post
Yeah, I gotta know (is it real though?), huh
I got bros—they all got bros too, bro
Yeah, countin’ vibes, but I count my dough slow (math ain’t my thing)
She say I’m toxic—I said “okay, that’s facts”
I’m in the trap… of my own emotional past
Hit from the back—then apologized fast
I want respect—not just financial stacks
I got the strap—emotionally strapped
7.62 self-doubts in the mag
What you gon’ do when I send a long paragraph?
Hit from the back—while discussing our past
Yeah, huh huh, turned her around—she asked for my sign
Don’t wanna argue, let’s realign
She not in love—she just liked my grind
Told my ex, “return my hoodie this time”
Got outta jail, bought a rice cooker
I’m goin’ up, but I still use UberNo need to rush…
Unless it’s brunch.Yeah she bad—she also invests
I’m with Big Tissue and Lil Softboy, emotionally repressed
We ain’t duckin’ no smoke, unless it’s a vape
Talkin’ green—but I still overdraft the bank
Feel like Giannis—on a dating app
Swipe so much, I got carpal tunnel (facts)
They don’t want smoke—we show up in Priuses
We been them guys—like, since middle school musicals
Yeah, we hard—like unpaid rent
I freestyle pain—I call it thera-bentI got plenty poles—for my curtain rod set
Built my empire… in my momma’s basement
He was talkin’ down—so I muted the chat
Brought shawty home—she met my cat
Told that ho, “respect my art“
Run up on me, I panic and fart
I’m cuffin’ his ho—emotionally, tho
Green light… to finally let go
I run up some racks—but spend it on snacks
He pourin’ a line—I sip chamomile back
She irkin’ my nerves—like group project slacks
I blacked out once—from emotional cracksFake Player but Clearly Sensitive!
You lovin’ that girl—I was just readin’ her blog
I’m sippin’ on tea—and I’m petting her dog
Racks in my jeans—well, store receipts
You say I’m broke? Emotionally, maybe
They want me to fall? I already did—into love
Walk in the room—they judge my Crocs
Girls be spyin’—I’m watchin’ Bridgerton
She wanna leave? Girl, I’ll run
He cry on the ‘net—me too, let’s heal
Talk on my twin? That’s a big red flag, for real
Ricky my jeans? Nah, these from Shein
I’m way too fly—on Spirit Airlines, aye(You know you rockin’ wit’ MC Cries-a-lot… and unresolved trauma)
(You know you rockin’ wit’ Dr. Delulu… and his therapist.)
(You know you rockin’ wit’ Dr. Delulu… and his therapist.)