The Gateway Label's Alien Grindhouse is an extraterrestrial exploitation label.
Part monster movie and sci-fi band.

This fun, indie, alien pulp is a gritty-stylized, darkly humored, slightly camp bonanza of albums, videos, merchandise, and a movie starring a conglomeration of aliens and their strange, violent stories. With eight creepily-altered voices over heavy trip hop, with some dubstep, industrial, electro-punk, rock, ambient, drum’n’bass, and jazz.
In 2015, a film titled Alien Grindhouse: The Movie will premiere with two albums- The Alien Grindhouse Soundtrack, and Critical Mass by Mutant Unknown and Eutrophic, and many more videos on YouTube. Building on two albums from 2009 (The Gateway Label Speaks and The Suffix-cide) and the theatrical style dubbed Alien Grindhouse.

 The Gateway Label's Alien Grindhouse is a wild universe with rebellious aliens, dangerous organizations, and a lot of murder, war, power, greed and perversion; and an expanding multimedia, multiplatform anthology of Christopher Chastain’s sci-fi predatorial universe.

Break the Label. Open the Gateway.

The Suffix -CIDE

The Salvage
The Mafioso of Murderapolis, Abnormal  
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
We could kill you in an instant
  or Zap your soul to another dimension.
You can't stop the things we do.
  No retribution for the acts we've admitted too.
You can't stop the things we do.
  Fucking up existence, man FUCK YOU!!
Veins tied to chains, wrapped around and slowly pulled out.
Skin shaved in sheets, peeled and piled in heaps.
Eyeballs hooked, twisted, and tore and put next to the pile of jaws and self doubt.
Mined out sorrow, sadness, and madness.
Thoughts, fears, the negative emotional gears.
Hate, greed, endless misdeeds stored forever more.
Disgust, revenge, obsession with the damned.
Violence, malice, rage, envy, disdain.
Feining fiends hooked on lost dreams.
Junkies of torment and defilement.
Addicts of the worst experiences.
Victims smothered under perverted pleasures, Perversions rendered upon the desired.
Forced interactions harvested for the wicked passions.
Turbulent times, violent crimes, suicidal despair.
Full of will destroying melancholy, Salvage your soul, your memories.
Emotional horrors stored to be experienced over and over.
Intake when wanted abused as needed salvaging the lives of the fleeting.
Blackmarket Abnormal, The Mafioso of Murderapolis
Abnormal is what they call me (what they call me)
The understatement of the century (of the century)
How about an eighth of teeth or an ounce of eye (ounce of eye)
    how about a pound of ground thigh (ground thigh)
Abnormal is what they call me (what they call me)
The understatement of the century (of the century)
How about an eighth of teeth or an ounce of eye (ounce of eye)
    how about a pound of ground thigh (ground thigh)
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
Kill kill kill kill kill kill, kill 'till I get my fill.
I'm just a killer,
     their your fetishes,
        I'm just making a buck off your sickness.
Inanimate Objects Abnormal 
A killer just walked through the door, started blasting out shots, killed at least four.
Now I'm walking around finishing who's left and I'll never leave a clue 'cause I'm the mother fucking best.
If anyone doubts if sanity counts
 ask the ones barely alive,
     on the floor
        bleeding the fuck out!
   With cries and whimpers,
        praying whispers,
            muttering don't kill me I have children pleading.
Inanimate Objects are the one to blame, it's not my fault I'm fucking insane.
 Inanimate shit coming to life
     from the darkness spewing from the eternal night
         from my oblivion extensions creeps the darkness sentientness.
Sometimes my shoes egg me on
 tell me to stomp people to the mother fucking ground.
The washing machines in my apartment building tell me they like my mother fucking killing,
  I gotta drag mother fuckers down, just so they the can watch them drown.
    Sounds of screams and splashing drown out the dryer and washing machines laughing.
Walls, Halls yell cursed spells,
  so I cover my ears and run outside
    the grass speak as one.
      The sun rains down obscenities of torture, rape, defilement and death
        of all creatures, of all life and I am the deliverer of that prediction, prophesy, foretelling, soothsaying, foreseeing!?!
I'm the one who will be the end of my doomed ends.
    I will be the end of many doomed realms.
  Encouraging me are the leaves and trees who sway
    singing to me a dark morbid song of the
            suffering of all.
The sky's eyes peer,
    words spear, impale me in commands and suggestions.
  From the lifeless come the orders of more horrors to come
    there's always some deplorable act they need done,
        some fate that needs to be sown shut,
            they just don't have to enjoy it so much.
I don't know if I understand them right, even the darkness murmurs to me at night.
    Constantly being told what to do like I'm a trained murdering monkey put in a zoo.
        I try to fight back but they got no organs to attack,
            I break them in half but now I got two pieces screaming at me to squeeze out peoples feces.
Inanimate fucking object or not, I still got to do what they mother fucking want.
    Electrical sockets sound like little children saying I should start inserting tongues and bloody finger tip nubs.
        The clothes on peoples back order me to strangle their owners neck.
            You want to hear something real creepy when I look in the mirror my reflection tells me to kill ME!
Don't tell me that you don't fucking hear it, I'll take your skin and I'll mother fucking peel it.
    Growling vending machines deeply bellowing to me
        to grab their cords and begin to swing and fling them all around
            cracking skulls to the ground
        All during the ever present chanting of the moons melodic rantings,
            mixes with exposed bowels,
                 howl in a fowl stench of puke and shit the doesn't quit.
        The words tones vocals of binded souls.
            Brought to the forefront by the absence, of the presence, from the darkness that is....?
Events Unfurling Abnormal, The Mafioso of Murderapolis
Looking out to the world
    windows to events unfurling.
I move as one with in the dark
    I peak and view out,
        emerge from the shadows
            or the darkness that orbits me, urges me,
            to be where I'm suppose to be,
            to murder somebody.
        Bodily dismantling
            genocidal organ extracting,
                homicidal existential of freewill
                    fatalistic, nihilistic existences.
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
Kidnapped by the government
    for selling bio weapon armorment.
Cut a ball from my sac,
    squash it with the back side of a hatchet
        bamboo stick in my dick and finger tips,
            a ball gag to choke on the vomit.
    terroristic nation
My head there bashing
    Achilles tendon slashing
        to the floor I'm crashing
            out is where I'm passing.
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
Unconscious dreaming whatever I'm pleasing,
    now I'm waking feds bodies I'm breaking
        then my death I'm faking 'cause I won't be staying
            in any secret prison so I got to disappear again.
Burning bullets right there on the lawn.
    Shooting cops as the pull on to my lawn.
        Sniper rifle fire blowing past my ear M16,
            360 degree Byakugan as I release my dark awareness and shredded all life.
The Bum Abnormal
I'm in the park after dark naked in the trees.
    Swinging from tree to tree hoping no one spotted me.
My nuts flap in the breeze
    as I move with ease among the trees and do what I please.
I'm a bum in the woods breaking into your cars dancing drunk on your hoods
    cooking up the people I jack toss the crack I'd rather smoke and toke
        through the hole in my throat the bud I steal back
            from the DNR fucks who take my fields.
I barbecue on the beach the dogs I catch
    no of them can out run this maniac.
Speed and strength of twenty fucking people
    but that's what happens with a tumor growing I the temple.
I'm just having fun waiting to die
    going crazy howling at the moon in the sky.
Screaming like a madman as I bum rush with my bear hands.
Murder early morning joggers as they try to live longer
    try to be healthy but because of me they die early.
Skinning dipping during the day this is my lake
    it's is where I stay.
I do what I please so fuck the police
    gut'em skin 'em hang em'  from a tree
        life never ends peacefully if it's taken by me.
I don't use a fishing pole to fish for fish,
    I you a fishing pole and a dollar to lure in greedy pricks
        gut'em skin 'em hang em' from a tree
            life never ends peacefully if it's taken by me.
Foreboding The Mafioso of Murderapolis
What is this pitily shit your coming to me with.
    I can't buy jack with a stack of cash like that.
        Your lucky I don't kill you wasting my time fucking with dimes.
            Hand you over to Abnormal let him do what he does to ya.
Now your dead- no one sad.
Time for bed- lay your head.
  You descend
      down the endless hall,
          to the beginning of everything.
In This Game
The Mafioso of Murderapolis
Sometimes you need to say fuck ideals
    I just need a mother fucking meal.
In this game talking ain't shit
    it's your actions that fucking represent.
I'll take you out with the skills of an assassin
    if that's what your mother fucking asking.
Whether I'm wearing a suit or a beater
    it doesn't change my mother fucking demeanor.
In this game everything is a risk
    first sign of trouble I kill you with the flick of my wrist.
You'd better pick your fights carefully
    in this game I don't play and I'm deadly.
The name of the game is survival
    if I don't kill you you'll be hurting for a while
        if I don't kill you, you'd better go into exile
    'cause if I feel the need to find your ass
        I'll be coming blazing a big fucking path.
In this game I eliminate all kinds of threats
    no time to fuck around with bull shit.
You do that's when you get shot
    from me or a mother fucking cop.
The death of you will be no sad thing
    in a week your wife will have a new wedding ring
        your boys will be fighting over your shit and
            revenge is the last thing that they'll think.
It's Not Over The Mafioso of Murderapolis
It's not over more to tell ya from an original gangsta.
It's not over more to tell ya from an original gangsta.
Gotta get that money and power
    no matter the time or hour
        no matter what decade this is
             I be running shit.
No matter what the year I still instill fear.
Nuclear Winter The Mafioso of Murderapolis
Welcome to my advanced weaponry military auction.
    Satellites with laser precise deadly accuracy
        and the personnel to run it don't come free.
    and nether does the launch to space
    an orbiting base a just in case
        stronghold encircling the earth with nuclear capabilities.
From space you can watch the disintegration of earth
    the land turn worse with no man made light at night.
Smoldering winds pollute the jet stream
    to blow a smoky breeze all over the globe
        ashes fall like snow another nuclear winter sold.
Titles The Mafioso of Murderapolis
The titles over the ages
    has come in many stages
        from the sword, to the bow, to the 12 gauges.
I've ruled by different names
    but my game has been the same.
Until the day that I may leave
    you have no chance to die in peace.
Declaration by Assassination The Mafioso of Murderapolis
I roll up to make the hit. POP!! POP!!
    Splattered the heads of you and your kid.
Then I creep away and fade 
    leave the bodies so everybody can see the statement I made.
About how I don't fuck around.
    About how I own this mother fucking town.
        About how nobody will make a sound about the body the cops found. 
'cause I'll lay the hit down
    so nobody better try or witnesses die
        and you'd better lie if you wanna survive or it's two in the eye.
Megalomaniac Abnormal
I'm a megalomaniac at murdering people.
    Chopping limbs off, controlled by evil.
Blood! I'm caked in the shit head to toe,
     I bath in it too I love it so.
I got caged people living in my cellar
    I suck them dry from the hands I sever.
I drink blood all the time.
    I simply find it fucking sublime.
It's not just blood but flesh too.
    Cut some off use it like Big League Chew.
There's a few I use for organ donations
    they look just like hospital patience.
I.V.'s, fresh surgical scars, respirators, life supports.
    You gotta leave the heart and lungs for last
        with out them you'd quickly be dead
         and I want you to feel every little bit
            of me slicing out your fucking shit.
Chowing down on your fucking ribs,
    boil the meat still attached too your leg,
        like a fine cuisine lobster can't do it when your dead,
        hear what I said,
            I got to keep fed,
                give me your head,
                    drill a little hole for a straw to go.
I eat your organs while your still alive.
    I just stick my face in and eat your insides,
I love the squirt when your beating heart bursts,
    when I chomp down It makes a lovely squishing sound.
You'd be surprised how long it tries to pump,
    pumping when it's just a little lump.
Sometimes I do it civilized like and use a fork to pluck out your eyes.
Call me a wanna be Hannibal
    'cause I'm eating the brains of little fucking animals.
When I was a baby I use eat insects
    pull off the butt and suck out the juices.
I use to bring home road kill
    barbeque it up on the mother fucking grill.
Maggots on it that ain't shit
    I'll eat the maggots right off it.
        Umm that's some good eating,
            squish fucking worms popping and bleeding.
I use to catch butterflies and eat there wings
    laugh while the other kids cry and cringe.
Pull earth worms straight from the ground,
    bait a bird to fly in my mouth
        'cause that's the real treat crunching a bird as it goes tweet tweet tweet.
I put leaches on people when they sleeping
    and eat'em when there done feeding.
I do the same to ticks
    I obviously don't care if it makes you mother fucking sick.
Blood and guts and all that sick stuff.
I'd love to skin you alive and eat your eyes.
    and I'd love to eat your tongue and gargle your blood in my mouth.
Now wait and hear me out.
If you haven't tried it, don't deny it, just step forward and star biting you'll like it you sick fucker.
-Nothing can stop me-
I like to make bombs, plant them in your lawns
    when your kids are playing turn them into bloody bacon.
What the fuck is that
    your kid's head lands in your lap.
Running out the house screaming
    in your pants your fucking peeing.
You steep into the gut noodles
    of what was once your little poodle.
Now your wife's right behind,
    standing on another bomb
        I blow it and her legs are gone.
Legs are twitching on the lawn
    and she's crying this is wrong
        so I put here in my song.
Planting bombs on your houses.
    Underneath the couches
        Put them in your mouths.
Put them under your head under your bed.
Stick'em in your ass,
    see how long you last, when your blown apart in half.
Why do I bring suffering every where I go
    and why do I love to do it so.
Shedding blood every where why do I just not care.
Modus Operandi Abnormal, The Mafioso of Murderapolis
Breathe, Breathe, Breathe, just Breathe
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
Modes Operandi, Modes Operandi, Modes Operandi,....
I bust in the door spraying bodies to the floor.
    You'll know that it's your final minute when you see my mug up in it.
I don't give a fuck if you have a kid or not
    I'll beat your ass right on the mother fucking spot.
        Beat it up, beat it down, I'll beat your ass into the ground.
        Beat it down, beat it up, I'll beat you to a bloody stump.
It's hard to be in the mafia
    and not pack a gun.
When everybody in your crew has one
    But I'm not the don because it's easy
     every body and they momma want to kill me.
So all you schemers better back the fuck off
    or with my bare hands I'll fucking haul off
        on your ass, on your face
I'll beat you back into place or maybe I'll just walk by
    flick you off when you say hi.
I have no friends or fans only equals
    so if you ain't down with me for you they'll be no sequel.
This is what we do
    blow the shit out of you,
        guts flying high, flying by,
    landing on the sidewalk
        people stepping over them as they talk.
They'll never fucking care
    as decaying smells linger in the air.
Your bloody remains remain there for days.
    Your bloody remains remain there for days.
        Your bloody remains remain there for days.
            Your bloody remains remain there for days.
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
Kill all day, Murder all day...
Every waking thought is consumed by carnage.
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
Pull the gun from my back
    place it to his head.
Use it so I won't get bloody and red.
    It's an old school .22
Not enough power for an exit wound.
The bullets just bounce around in the skull.
    Tearing up the brain oh man I wish I could see the ricochet.
All I can see are the after effects.
    You falling over dead, no half head,
        bleeding all over my, mother fucking clothes.
Splatter is minimal and so is the blood flow.
    And I don't have to worry about stepping in it,
    when I'm leaving the crime scene in a minute.
        And it's really easy to conceal
            Shit- one of my balls is bigger and heavier then that little chrome steal.
    And I got a customized silencer just in case
        I have to do it in a very, very quite place.
It's Abnormal time.
    It's Abnormal time.
        It's Abnormal time.
           It's Abnormal time.
It's Abnormal time. It's time for me to write a rhyme.
It's Abnormal time. It's time for me to sell a dime. 
It's Abnormal time. It's time for me to gut a swine.
It's Abnormal time. It's time for me to do what I'm best at.
I'm a closet killer don't let no no one know.
    I'm not a fag but I will kill them though.
I have to stay hidden
    'cause people would try to stop my killing.
They'd want to stop my heart
    so I remain in the shadows and the dark.
No execution for me you'll never even have my prints.
    In the dark I wait and sit and kill who I see fit.
I'm going clubbing at a club with the bluntest object I can find
    a baseball bat puncturing your mother fucking spine.
Dressed in all black with a new three piece suit.
    Stain resistant for when I'm fucking splattering you.
Hunting for preps, clubbers, and college kids
    or any other pussies listening to mainstream, shit.
I walk right in the front door
    smashing security and clubbing club whores
        while I make my way down to the dance floor.
This is my groove- knocking teeth loose.
Bloody polo shirts is all you really see
    that and khaki pants covered in mother fucking pee.
I've never seen so much moussed, gelled or hair sprayed hair,
     spiked all over, looking like fucking queers.
       Metrosexual pussy ass fake radio clubs,
            music's dead thanks to you fucks.
With your body I'm doing all permutations.
    Mutilations, lacerations, experimentations.
Any combinations you can think of
    I'm reconnecting nerves and veins up
Busting bones, letting them heal
    permenantly pretzeled people
        would you know how to deal.
Putting together shit that just don't belong
    reconnect the hose coming out your lung to hit the bong.
This is the end
    no more living to do.
Time to take the eternal walk alone.
    never to return,
    never to return,  
    never to return,
    never to return again.
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
The Sound
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
The sound
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
The sound
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
The sound
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
What's that sound?
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
The sound
(The Mafioso of Murderapolis)
What's that sound?