Dr. Birds

Griselda as a collective functions like a rep company of character actors, and this track showcases exactly that ensemble quality — multiple voices cycling through a shared aesthetic without any single perspective dominating. The beat operates in the tradition of mid-nineties East Coast boom bap filtered through a contemporary murk: samples that sound like they were found in a water-damaged basement, drums that hit with blunt force rather than snap. Pigeons & Planes once described Griselda's catalog as "rap for people who drink coffee black," and that framing captures something real about the track's refusal of sweeteners. The imagery clusters around birds — surveillance, freedom, the duality of something predatory and beautiful — and the title itself carries a specific Caribbean register, a pointer toward cultural geography that most listeners will feel before they can articulate. The verses pile up without summarizing, the way real life does. You put this on when you want music that respects your intelligence enough not to explain itself.