The Hood Chants of Maldoror (AAVE Street Vibes)
Bar 2: The Mad Cave Hustle
Drop 1
Drop 2
I’m grippin’ this pen to build that second — ass jam — tool snatched off some red hawk’s wings! But… what’s up with my damn fingers? Joints lock — ass up soon as I start my grind. Still, I need to spit this ink… Ain’t happenin’! Real talk, I’m sayin’ I gotta drop my thoughts — got the right like any cat to roll with nature’s vibe… Nah, nah, this pen stayin’ dead — ass! Check it, peep that lightning flashin’ far — ass ‘cross them fields. Storm’s tearin’ through the air. Rain’s hittin’… Keepin’ on hittin’… Man, it’s pourin’ hard — ass! Thunder snaps — bam, smashes my half — open window, lays me out on the floor, tagged right on the dome. Poor — ass youngin’! Your mug was already fucked — up with early lines and born — ass twists — didn’t need this long — ass, stank — ass scar on top! (Just playin’ like the cut’s healed — ain’t happenin’ soon, fam.) Why this storm, and why my fingers froze — ass? Some high — up warnin’ to stop me scribblin’, make me clock what I’m riskin’, spillin’ venom from my square — ass jaw? But this storm ain’t shook me, bruv. What’s a squad of storms gonna do to me! Them sky — cop cats run they grim — ass gig with mad heat — judgin’ rough by my banged — up forehead. Ain’t thankin’ the Big Man for his sharp — ass aim — he slung that bolt to split my face dead in two from the dome, where it hit worst — let some other cat gas him up! Storms fuckin’ with somebody tougher than they ass, though. So, you nasty — ass Eternal with that snake — ass mug, it wasn’t enough to trap my soul ‘tween crazy and them slow — killin’ rage thoughts — you figured your king — ass vibe needed, after some deep — ass thinkin’, to carve a blood — ass cup outta my head too! But who’s even talkin’ to you? You know I ain’t lovin’ you — straight hate your ass — so why you keep pushin’? When your moves gonna quit dressin’ up in wild — ass weirdness? Hit me straight, like a homie — don’t you finally get that your fucked — ass chase got this green — ass rush no angel’d dare call straight — up clown shit? What’s pissin’ you off? Clock this — if you let me breathe free from your hunt, I’d owe you props… Aight, Sultan, lick this blood off the floor with that tongue. Bandage done — my patched — up dome washed with salt — ass water, strips crisscrossed ‘cross my face. Tally ain’t endless — four shirts soaked red and two hankies. First look, you wouldn’t think Maldoror’s veins packed that much blood — his mug only flashin’ corpse — ass shine. But that’s how it rolls. Might be damn near all the juice his frame could hold — prolly ain’t much left, fam. Chill, chill, greedy — ass pup — leave the floor how it is, your gut’s stuffed. Don’t keep slurpin’ — you’ll puke quick — ass. You good — ass full, crash in the kennel — vibe like you swimmin’ in bliss, won’t clock hunger for three fat — ass days, thanks to them blood drops you chugged with some loud — ass glee. Léman, snatch a broom — I’d grab one too, but I ain’t got the juice, bruv. You see I ain’t got the juice, right? Stash them tears — or I’ll think you too shook to peep this big — ass slash cool — headed, from some old — ass beatdown I already lost in the haze. Hit the spring for two buckets of water. Once the floor’s scrubbed, toss these rags next door. If the wash — chick rolls through tonight like she s’posed to, hand ‘em off — but with this rain poundin’ an hour and still goin’, bet she ain’t leavin’ her spot — she’ll swing by mornin’ then. If she asks where all this blood popped from, you ain’t gotta spit nothin’. Man, I’m weak — ass! Whatever — I still got juice to lift this pen and guts to dig my head deep. What the Creator get hasslin’ me like some kid with a storm packin’ thunder? I’m stickin’ to my ink grind anyway. These wraps pissin’ me off, and my room’s air stank — ass with blood…
Drop 3
Man, hope that day never hits when me and Lohengrin roll down the block side by side, eyes off, elbows grazin’ like some rushed — ass strangers! Damn, let me jet forever from that wild — ass thought! The Eternal cooked up this world how it is — he’d show some real — ass smarts if, just long enough to smash a chick’s dome with a hammer, he’d drop his starry — ass crown and spill them mysteries chokin’ our lives, like a fish floppin’ in a boat’s gut. But he big — ass and noble — got us beat with them heavy — ass plans; if he chopped it up with cats, every shame’d splash back on his mug. But… you fucked — up fool! Why ain’t you turnin’ red? Ain’t enough that this army of body — ass and soul — ass hurts ‘round us got spawned — they keepin’ our ripped — up fate on lock. I know that Almighty cat… and he gotta know me too, fam. If we hit the same trail by chance, his sharp — ass peepers clock me from a mile — he ducks down some side — ass path to dodge this triple — ass platinum spike nature hooked me with for a tongue! You’d do me solid, Creator, lettin’ me spill my guts. Slingin’ them hard — ass ironies with a cold — ass grip, I’m warnin’ you my chest’s packed enough to come at you ‘til my last damn breath. I’ma pound your hollow — ass shell — so fuckin’ hard I’ll shake out them last — ass scraps of smarts you didn’t wanna drop on man, jealous — ass ‘bout keepin’ him level with you, hidin’ ‘em bold — ass in your guts, you slick — ass crook — like you didn’t know I’d spot ‘em one day with my wide — ass eye, snatch ‘em, and split ‘em with my crew, bruv. I done what I’m spittin’, and now they ain’t scared of you — they dealin’ straight — up with you, power to power. Hit me with death to make me eat my bold — ass words — I’m barin’ my chest, waitin’ low — key. Step up then, you weak — ass spreads of forever punishin’!… loud — ass flexin’ of overhyped — ass traits! He showed he can’t stop my blood flowin’, mockin’ his ass. Still, I got proof he don’t blink snuffin’ out other cats’ breath in they prime, barely tastin’ life’s kicks. That’s just nasty — ass — but only by my shaky — ass take! I seen the Creator, juicin’ his pointless — ass cruel streak, lightin’ fires where old heads and kids burned up! Ain’t me kickin’ this off — he forcin’ me to spin him like a top with a steel — ass whip. Ain’t he the one handin’ me ammo ‘gainst his own ass? My wild — ass flow ain’t dryin’ up — it’s feedin’ off them crazy — ass nightmares fuckin’ with my no — sleep nights. Lohengrin’s why all this got scribbled — let’s swing back to him then. Scared he’d turn out like them other — ass cats, I first planned to shank him up once he passed them innocent — ass years. But I clocked it over and dropped that wild — ass plan just in time. He don’t even know his life was hangin’ for fifteen — ass minutes. Shit was set — knife copped and all. That blade was cute — ass — I dig style even in death — ass tools — but long and sharp — ass too. One quick — ass stab to the neck, hittin’ a carotid clean, and I reckon that’d’ve been it. Glad I held back — I’d’ve been kickin’ myself later. So, Lohengrin, roll how you wanna, do your thing, lock me up in some dark — ass cell with scorpions for my jail — ass crew, or rip an eye out ‘til it drops — I ain’t throwin’ you shade, fam. I’m yours, I’m locked in — ain’t livin’ for me no more. Pain you’d hit me with ain’t touchin’ the vibe of knowin’ them murder — ass hands hurtin’ me got more divine — ass juice than the rest! Yeah, still dope — ass to give your life for a cat and hold that hope not all folks fucked — ‘cause one finally dragged my bitter — ass, shady — ass trust his way with force!
Drop 4
It’s midnight — ain’t no omnibus runnin’ from Bastille to Madeleine no more. Wait, scratch that — here’s one poppin’ up quick, like it climbed outta the dirt. Them few late — night stragglers eyein’ it hard — this thing don’t vibe like the rest, fam. Up top, cats posted with eyes locked, dead — fish style. They crammed tight, lookin’ lifeless — but they ain’t past the limit. When the driver snaps that whip on them horses, feels like the whip’s movin’ his arm, not him slingin’ it. What’s this crew of weird — ass, quiet freaks? Moon cats? Some ticks you’d think so — but they more like stiffs. That omnibus, rushin’ to hit the last stop, chewin’ up the block, makin’ the pavement groan… It’s bolting!… But some shapeless blob chasin’ it down, hard on its tail, kickin’ up dust.
“Hold up, I’m beggin’ — stop… my legs swole from walkin’ all day… ain’t ate since yesterday… my folks bounced on me… I’m lost out here… tryna head home, I’d make it quick if you’d gimme a spot… I’m just an eight — year — old kid, trustin’ you…”
It’s bolting!… It’s bolting!… But that shapeless blob chasin’ it down, hard on its tail, kickin’ up dust. One of them cold — eyed cats nudges his neighbor, lookin’ pissed ‘bout them high — pitched whines hittin’ his ear, bruv. The other dips his head, barely — ass nod, then sinks back into his selfish — chill, turtlin’ up. Rest of them riders rockin’ the same vibe as them two. Kid’s cries keep ringin’ two, three minutes, sharper every tick. Windows poppin’ open on the boulevard — some shook face with a lamp peeps the street, then slams the shutter fast, gone… It’s bolting!… It’s bolting!… But that shapeless blob chasin’ it down, hard on its tail, kickin’ up dust. Only one cat — young dude lost in his head ‘mongst these stone — cold figures — seems to feel for the kid’s mess. Wanna speak up for the lil’ homie thinkin’ he can catch it on them achin’ legs, but he don’t — them other cats hittin’ him with scorn and boss — ass stares, and he knows he ain’t got shit against ‘em all. Elbow on his knees, head in his hands, he’s wonderin’, stunned — this what they call human kindness? Clocks it’s just a dead — end word, ain’t even in poetry’s book no more, and owns his slip — up. Tells himself: “Real shit, why sweat a lil’ kid? Let him fade.” Still, a hot tear rolls down his cheek — he just cursed out loud. Wipes his brow slow, like pushin’ off a fog cloudin’ his smarts. He’s twistin’, but it’s no use, stuck in this era he got tossed in — feels outta place, can’t bounce. Rough — ass cage! Grim — ass fate! Lombano, been proud of you since that day, fam! Kept my eyes on you while my mug stayed blank like them other riders. Young cat jumps up, pissed — wanna jet so he ain’t tied to this foul play, even by mistake. I flash him a sign, and he slides back by me… It’s bolting!… It’s bolting!… But that shapeless blob chasin’ it down, hard on its tail, kickin’ up dust. Cries cut off sharp — kid tripped on a stickin’ — out stone, cracked his head droppin’. Omnibus ghosts over the edge, just the quiet street left… It’s bolting!… It’s bolting!… But that shapeless blob ain’t chasin’ no more, trail gone cold in the dust. Peep that ragpicker rollin’ through, bent over his weak — ass lantern — got more heart than all them omnibus cats combined. He scoops the kid up — bet he’ll patch him good, won’t ditch him like his folks. It’s bolting!… It’s bolting!… But from where he at, that ragpicker’s sharp — eyed stare chasin’ it down, hard on its tail, kickin’ up dust!… Dumb — ass, brainless crew! You gonna regret rollin’ like this — I’m callin’ it, fam. You gonna regret it — watch, you gonna regret it! My bars ain’t gonna be nothin’ but strikes, every damn way, at man — that wild beast — and the Creator, who shouldn’t have spawned this trash — ass mess. Books gonna stack on books ‘til my last breath, and you’ll still only catch this one vibe, always burnin’ in my head, bruv!
Drop 5
On my daily stroll, I’d cut through this tight — ass street — every damn day this slim ten — year — old chick trailed me, keepin’ distance, all respectful — like, watchin’ me with them curious, cool — vibe eyes. She was tall for her age, frame stretched out sleek. Thick black hair split down the middle, droppin’ in free braids over them marble — white shoulders. One day, she’s shadowin’ me like always — then some rough — armed street woman snatches her by the hair, like a gust grabbin’ a leaf, slaps two hard — ass hits on her proud, quiet cheek, and drags that dazed lil’ soul back in the crib, fam. I played it chill, actin’ like I ain’t care — didn’t stop her from stickin’ to me with that now — awkward presence. When I’d bounce to the next block, she’d freeze at the end of that narrow strip, holdin’ herself still like a Silence statue, eyes locked ahead ‘til I was ghost. One time, she got ahead, steppin’ in front — if I sped up to pass, she’d damn near sprint to keep the gap steady; slow down to stretch some space, she’d ease up too, droppin’ kid — grace into it. Hittin’ the street’s end, she turns slow, blockin’ my way. Ain’t had time to dip, so I’m face — to — face with her. Eyes puffy and red — I could tell she wanted to spit somethin’ but didn’t know how to kick it off. Then she goes pale, corpse — style, and hits me: “You got the kindness to tell me what time it is?” I say I ain’t rockin’ no watch and peel out quick. Since then, lil’ dreamer with that wild, early spark, you ain’t caught that mystery cat in that tight street no more, poundin’ them twisty crossroad stones with his heavy — ass sandal. That flamin’ comet glow ain’t flashin’ again like some grim, hype — ass curiosity on your let — down watch — wall — and you’ll think ‘bout him mad often, too damn much, maybe forever: the dude who didn’t sweat life’s pains or perks, driftin’ random with a dead — out face, hair spikin’, steps shaky, arms flailin’ blind through them mockin’ ether waves, like he’s huntin’ hope’s bloody catch, tossed nonstop through space’s big — ass sprawl by fate’s cold plow, bruv. You ain’t seein’ me again, and I ain’t seein’ you!… Who knows? Maybe that chick wasn’t what she fronted. Under that soft shell, she could’ve been packin’ slick moves, eighteen years’ weight, and vice’s pull. Seen them love — hawkers bounce cheerful from them British Isles, crossin’ the strait — they’d spread them wings, spinnin’ in gold — ass swarms ‘fore Paris lights, and you’d clock ‘em like: “They still kids — ten or twelve tops.” Truth is, they was twenty. Man, if that’s real, fuck them dark — street turns! Wild — wild — what’s poppin’ there! Bet her ma clocked her for not hustlin’ smooth enough. Could’ve been just a kid, then ma’s guilt hits harder. Me, I ain’t buyin’ that guess — it’s just a hunch — I’d rather vibe with that storybook soul spillin’ out too soon… Look, lil’ chick, I’m tellin’ you — don’t cross my path again if I swing through that tight street. Could cost you big! Blood and hate already rushin’ my head in hot waves. Me, big — hearted enough to love my kind? Nah — nah! Locked that down day I dropped! They ain’t lovin’ me, fam! Worlds gonna crumble, granite glide like a bird over waves ‘fore I grip a human’s nasty hand. Back — back — that grip!… Lil’ chick, you ain’t no angel, and you’ll end up like them other women. Nah — nah — I’m beggin’ — don’t show up ‘fore my squintin’, mean — mug brows again. In a slip, I might snatch your arms, twist ‘em like wet rags, or snap ‘em loud like dry sticks and make you chew ‘em down with force. Could cup your head all sweet — then dig my greedy fingers into your clean brain lobes, pullin’ out — smilin’ — some grease to cool my eyes, fucked from life’s endless no — sleep grind. Might stitch your lids shut with a needle, cut you off from the world’s show, leave you lost with no way — ain’t guidin’ you, bruv. Could hoist your pure frame with an iron grip, grab them legs, swing you ‘round me like a sling, juice up for one last spin, and slam you ‘gainst the wall. Every blood drop splashin’ on a human chest, scarin’ cats, settin’ my badness out front! They’d rip flesh strips nonstop — but that blood spot stays, unwipeable, shinin’ like a diamond. Chill — I’d tell half a dozen crew to guard your holy leftovers, keep ‘em from them hungry — ass dogs. Sure, your body’s plastered to the wall like ripe fruit, ain’t hit dirt — but dogs can leap high if you ain’t watchin’, fam.
Drop 6
This kid parked on a bench in the Tuileries garden — man, he sweet! Them bold eyes lockin’ on somethin’ unseen, way out in the cut. Can’t be past eight — still, he ain’t playin’ like he oughta, fam. Least he should be laughin’, kickin’ it with a homie, not sittin’ solo — but that ain’t his vibe. This kid on that bench in the Tuileries — he sweet! Some cat, rollin’ with a hid — up plan, slides next to him on the same bench, movin’ all shady — like. Who he be? Ain’t gotta spell it — you’ll clock him by his twisty — ass talk, bruv. Let’s ear in — don’t mess with ‘em:
— “What you thinkin’ ‘bout, lil’ man?”
— “I was thinkin’ ‘bout heaven.”
— “No need to trip on heaven — earth’s plenty to chew on. You tired of breathin’ already, just popped out the gate?”
— “Nah, but everybody digs heaven over earth.”
— “Not me, fam. Since heaven got cooked up by God same as earth, trust — you’ll catch the same dirt up there as down here. When you check out, ain’t no prize for your grind — if they fuck you over on this rock (and you’ll feel that later, real talk), no reason they won’t up top too. Best move is ditch God and square shit yourself when they holdin’ it back. If a homie crossed you, wouldn’t you vibe off droppin’ him?”
— “But that’s off — limits.”
— “Ain’t as locked as you think, bruv. Just don’t get nabbed. Law justice? Trash — it’s the hurt cat’s payback that counts. If you hated a homie, wouldn’t it eat you up havin’ him stuck in your head every damn tick?”
— “That’s real.”
— “See? That homie’d keep you fucked — up your whole run — knowin’ your hate’s just chillin’, he’d keep clownin’ you, messin’ you up, no sweat. Only one fix — ditch your enemy. That’s where I’m takin’ this, showin’ you how this world’s built now. Everybody gotta deal their own justice, or they a clown. Cat who tops his crew? He the slickest and strongest. Don’t you wanna run your people one day?”
— “Yeah — yeah.”
— “Then be the strongest and slickest. You too green to be strong yet — but today, you can flip that cunning switch, the dopest tool for genius cats. When David the shepherd clocked Goliath square in the dome with a sling — stone, ain’t it wild he won just off smarts? If they’d scrapped hand — to — hand, that giant would’ve smashed him like a bug. Same deal for you. Straight — up fight, you ain’t toppin’ cats you wanna bend — but with cunning, you can solo the whole squad. You cravin’ cash, fly cribs, big — ass fame — or you playin’ me when you spit them high — vibe dreams?”
— “Nah — nah — I ain’t playin’. But I’d rather snag what I want some other way.”
— “Then you ain’t grabbin’ shit, fam. Soft, nice — guy moves get you nowhere. Need sharper gears and slicker traps. ‘Fore you blow up for bein’ good and hit your mark, a hundred cats’ll flip over your back and beat you to the end — no room left for your tight — ass ideas. Gotta snatch the now’s horizon with bigger guts. Ain’t you heard how victories stack that wild fame? But they don’t drop solo — gotta spill blood, mad blood, to birth ‘em and toss ‘em at winners’ feet. No bodies, no ripped — up limbs you peep on that plain where the slaughter went down clean, no war — and no war, no wins. Clock this — you want fame, dive smooth into blood rivers fed by cannon meat. End clears the path. First step to fame’s cash — you ain’t got it, so you’ll kill to cop it. Too weak for a blade yet? Turn thief ‘til your frame bulks up. To juice that growth quick, hit gymnastics twice a day — hour in the mornin’, hour at night. That way, you can roll into crime with some wins by fifteen, not waitin’ ‘til twenty. Glory — love clears all — and maybe later, runnin’ your crew, you’ll hook ‘em up near as much as you fucked ‘em up at the jump!…”
Maldoror clocks the blood pumpin’ in the kid’s head — nostrils flarin’, lips spittin’ light foam. Feels his pulse — it’s racin’ wild. Fever’s grip got this frail — ass frame. He’s stressin’ what his words kicked off — slips out, the wretch, mad he couldn’t chop it up with the kid longer. When grown — ass years barely tame that good — and — evil tug, what’s it like in a green head with no miles? How much extra grit that take? Kid’s stuck in bed three days off this. Hope a ma’s touch chills out this tender flower — thin shell holdin’ a fine soul, fam!
Drop 7
Out there, in a grove boxed by flowers, the hermaphrodite’s crashed out — deep — ass sleep on the grass, soaked from their own tears, fam. Moon’s peeled its glow from them cloud clumps, hittin’ this soft teen face with pale vibes. They rockin’ traits that scream tough — guy grit and pure — angel grace all mashed up. Ain’t nothin’ lookin’ regular ‘bout ‘em — not even them muscles cuttin’ through them smooth, girly curves. Arm bent over the brow, other hand pressin’ the chest, like they tryna hush a heart locked off from spillin’ secrets, heavy with some forever — locked truth. Burnt out on life, ashamed to roll with cats who ain’t like ‘em, despair’s got their soul — they roam solo, like a valley’s broke — down hustler. How they eat? Some good — vibe folks keepin’ close watch, shadowin’ without ‘em clockin’ it, never ditchin’ — they that chill, that low — key tough! Sometimes they’ll chop it up with them soft — heart types, no hand — grips, stayin’ back, spooked by some fake — ass threat. Ask why they ridin’ solo, they eyes hit the sky, holdin’ back a tear blamin’ the Big Man — but they ain’t answerin’ that wild — swing question, lettin’ a dawn — rose blush creep over them snowy lids, bruv. Chat drags, they get twitchy, scopin’ all four corners like they dodgin’ some ghost — ass foe closin’ in, flash a quick wave, bounce on they woke — up shame wings, and dip into the woods. Most cats peg ‘em for a head — case. One day, four masked dudes, rollin’ on orders, jumped ‘em — tied ‘em tight, only legs free. Whip cracked its rough strips ‘cross they back, tellin’ ‘em hit the road to Bicêtre, no delay. They grinned through the hits, spit back with so much heart and smarts — droppin’ deep cuts on human know — how they studied, showin’ big — brain vibes for a cat still shy of youth’s gate, and on folks’ fates, layin’ bare they soul’s poetic shine — them guards, shook to they veins by what they pulled, cut loose them busted limbs, dropped to they knees beggin’ mercy (got it), and peeled out, rockin’ respect you don’t usually toss at cats. After that buzzed — up mess, everybody guessed they secret — but folks play dumb to keep they pain light — and the gov hooks ‘em with a solid pension, tryna wipe that time they almost shoved ‘em blind into a madhouse. They keep half the cash, sling the rest to the broke. See a dude and chick strollin’ down a plane — tree lane, they feel they frame split top to bottom, each half rushin’ to hug one of ‘em — but it’s just a head — trip, and reason snaps back quick. That’s why they don’t mix with guys or chicks — that heavy shame, born from thinkin’ they a freak, blocks ‘em from droppin’ they fire — hot vibes on anybody. They’d feel dirty — think they’d dirty others too. They pride keep hammerin’ this line: “Stay in your lane.” Pride, I said — they scared linkin’ up with a dude or chick might catch flak someday for how they built, like it’s some big — ass crime. So they pull back into they stung self — love, pissed at that unholy guess they cookin’ solo, stickin’ lone through the grind, no ease, fam. Out there, in that grove boxed by flowers, the hermaphrodite’s crashed out — deep in sleep on the grass, wet from they tears. Birds, wide — awake, peep this sad face through branches with glee, and the nightingale ain’t droppin’ them crystal jams. Woods turn heavy like a tomb with this unlucky cat’s night — time chill. Lost — ass traveler, with that wild streak that yanked you from your folks young as hell — by them desert thirst — hits — by that home you might chase after long — ass exile in strange spots — by your ride, that loyal homie, takin’ exile and rough — vibe weather with you — by the shine far — off lands and uncharted waves slap on a cat, ‘round polar ice or scorchin’ sun — don’t graze them curls spilled on the dirt, mixin’ with green grass, with your hand like a breeze — tickle. Step back a few — you’ll do tighter that way. This hair’s sacred — they called it so themself. Ain’t wantin’ no human lips kissin’ they locks, spiced by mountain air, or they brow, glowin’ now like sky stars. Bet it’s a star that dropped from its track, cuttin’ space, to frame that king — vibe brow with diamond shine like a halo. Night flicks off its gloom, rockin’ all its charm to toast this sleeper — this pure — vibe mark, this flawless angel — innocence pic: bugs hush down low. Branches lean they thick tops over ‘em to block dew, and breeze strums its chill harp, sendin’ glad chords through the big — hush toward them shut lids, catchin’ — still — the timed — out jam of hangin’ worlds, fam. They dream they happy — that they body flipped — or least they flew on a purple cloud to some other spot, packed with cats like ‘em. Man, let that dream ride ‘til dawn cracks! They dream flowers twirl ‘round ‘em in a ring, like wild — ass wreaths, hittin’ ‘em with sweet whiffs while they spit a love track, locked in the grip of some magic — fine human. But it’s just dusk — mist they arms twist ‘round — and when they wake, them arms ain’t holdin’ shit. Don’t wake, hermaphrodite — not yet, I’m beggin’. Why you doubtin’ me? Sleep… sleep forever. Let your chest chase that wild — hope happiness — I’m cool with it — but don’t flip them lids. Man — don’t flip them lids! I’m bouncin’ like this, ain’t tryna peep you wake. Maybe one day, with a fat book, in some heart — deep pages, I’ll spit your tale, shook by what it packs and the lessons it drops. Ain’t could yet — every try, big tears soaked the sheet, fingers shook, not from old — age vibes. But I want that grit now. Pissed my nerves ain’t tougher than a chick’s, that I’m passin’ out like a lil’ girl every time I clock your heavy — ass hurt. Sleep… sleep forever — but don’t flip them lids. Man — don’t flip them lids! Peace out, hermaphrodite! Every day, I’m hittin’ the sky with prayers for you (wouldn’t for me, fam). Hope peace floods your chest, bruv!
Drop 8
When some chick with that high — pitch soprano lets loose them vibin’, smooth notes, hearin’ that human tune sets my eyes blazin’ with a low — key fire, throwin’ off sharp — ass sparks that sting — while my ears catch a cannon — blast alarm ringin’ loud, fam. Where’s this deep — cut hate for all man’s shit comin’ from? If them chords lift off an instrument’s strings, I’m soakin’ in them pearl — drop notes slidin’ tight through the air’s bounce. My ears pick up nothin’ but a meltin’ chill that softens my nerves and head — some unnameable doze drapes me in magic — dust poppies, like a screen dimmin’ daylight, easin’ down my sharp senses and wild — runnin’ mind. Word is I got dropped in deafness’s grip! Back in my early kid days, couldn’t catch what folks was spittin’. Took mad work to school me how to talk — only after readin’ off paper what some cat wrote could I kick back my own thought — thread. One day — fucked — up day — I was growin’ in looks and purity — everybody hypin’ the smarts and heart of this angel — vibe teen. Plenty consciences turned red peepin’ them clean — cut features where my soul parked its throne. Cats rolled up only with big respect, clockin’ an angel’s stare in my eyes. But nah — I knew them happy — ass roses of youth weren’t gonna bloom forever, twistin’ wild wreaths on my low — key, noble brow — all them mas goin’ crazy kissin’ it. Started feelin’ like the universe, with its starry dome of smug, annoyin’ globes, might not be the dopest shit I’d dreamed up. So one day, burnt from kickin’ dirt on life’s steep trail, stumblin’ like a drunk through its dark — ass tunnels, I slow — lifted my spleen — sick eyes — ringed blue — wide — toward the sky’s curve and dared, young as hell, to crack heaven’s secrets, bruv! Ain’t findin’ what I was huntin’, I pushed my shook lid higher — higher still — ‘til I peeped a throne of human filth and gold — and sittin’ up there, rockin’ dumb — ass pride, was him callin’ himself the Creator, draped in a shroud stitched from nasty hospital sheets! He’s clutchin’ a dead cat’s rottin’ torso, swingin’ it from eyes to nose, nose to mouth — and once it hit his mouth, you know what he pulled. Feet dunked in a fat pool of boilin’ blood — surface poppin’ up quick heads like worms in a shit — pot, duckin’ back fast as a dart — a clean kick to the nose — bone was the payoff for breakin’ rules, needin’ a breath from somethin’ else — these cats wasn’t fish, fam! Amphibians tops, swimmin’ ‘tween layers in that foul muck!… ‘Til, hand empty, the Creator snagged another diver by the neck with his foot’s front claws — like pliers — yankin’ him up outta that red — slime sauce! Same deal as the last — chewed the head first, then legs, arms, torso last ‘til nothin’ left — he even crunched bones. Kept it rollin’ through his endless grind. Sometimes he’d holler:
— “I built y’all — so I can do whatever I damn please. Y’all ain’t crossed me, I ain’t sayin’ that. I’m makin’ you hurt — it’s my kick.”
Then he’d dig back into his cruel — ass feast, workin’ that lower jaw — stirrin’ his brain — smeared beard. Reader, that last bit don’t make your mouth water? Ain’t everybody chowin’ on brain that fine — fresh — pulled from the fish — lake fifteen ticks ago! Limbs locked, throat shut, I peeped this scene a stretch. Three times I near — crashed back like some cat hit too hard — three times I pulled myself up. Ain’t a thread in me stayin’ still — shook like volcano lava inside. Finally, chest so tight it couldn’t push life — air fast enough, my lips cracked open — I let out a scream… a scream so raw — ass I heard it! My ear’s chains snapped quick — drum popped under that sound — blast I flung out hard — and somethin’ new hit my shut — off gear. I’d caught a sound! Fifth sense flipped on in me! But what joy I’m findin’ in that? From then, human noise hit my ear only with pity — pain for some big — ass wrong. Somebody talkin’, I’d flash back to what I peeped that day past them see — able spheres — my choked — up vibes bustin’ out in a wild howl, pitch matchin’ my crew’s! Couldn’t hit back — them tortures dumped on man’s weak — spot in that nasty purple sea roared past my brow like skinned elephants, fire — wings grazin’ my burnt — up hair. Later, knowin’ folks deeper, that pity mixed with hot — ass rage ‘gainst this tiger — ma, her hard — ass spawn just cursin’ and fuckin’ up. Lie’s gall! They say bad’s rare with ‘em!… Now that’s long — dead — long since I quit talkin’ to cats. You — whoever — when you near me, don’t let no note slip your throat — keep that larynx still, ain’t outdoin’ no nightingale — don’t even try spillin’ your soul with words. Hold a deep — vibe hush nothin’ breaks — cross your hands low on your chest, drop them lids down. Told you — since that vision dropped the real — ass truth, enough nightmares sucked my throat dry through nights and days for me to dare — even in my head — relive that hell — hour pain chasin’ me nonstop with its ghost. Man — when you hear snow crashin’ off that cold peak — a lioness wailin’ in dry — ass desert for her lost cubs — storm doin’ its thing — a locked — up cat roarin’ pre — guillotine night — and that fierce octopus spittin’ wins over swimmers and wrecks to the waves — tell me, ain’t them grand voices doper than man’s smirk, fam?
Drop 9
Man, there’s this bug cats keep fed off they own dime. They don’t owe it shit — but they scared — ass of it, fam. This creep, passin’ on wine for blood, if you don’t hook it up legit, could flip some dark — vibe switch — blow up elephant — big and squash cats like wheat stalks. So peep how they big it up — surround it with mad dog — style respect — rank it high over creation’s beasts. They hand over they heads like a throne, and it hooks claws into they scalp — roots, all regal — like. Later, when it’s fat and hittin’ old — age vibes, they copy some ancient crew’s move — off it quick so it don’t feel time’s bite. Throw it a hero — style send — off — coffin ridin’ straight to the grave’s lid, carried on the shoulders of top — dog citizens. Over wet dirt the gravedigger’s flippin’ with his slick spade, they weave loud — color lines ‘bout soul’s forever — run, life’s big — ass nothing, and Providence’s wild — card will — then marble seals up this grind — heavy life, now just a stiff. Crowd dips, and night drapes them graveyard walls in shadow quick, bruv.
But chill, folks — don’t sweat losin’ it too hard. Here come its endless kin — a freebie drop from it to cut your blues, sweetened by these grumpy lil’ scrappers that’ll grow into fly — ass lice, rockin’ standout shine — sage — steppin’ freaks. It hatched a few dozen prized eggs under its mama wing in your hair — dried out from them fierce strangers suckin’ juice. Time hit fast — eggs popped open. Don’t trip — these young — blood thinkers won’t take long to beef up through this quick — fade life. They’ll swell so much you’ll feel it — claws and suckers diggin’ in.
Y’all don’t clock why they ain’t chewin’ your skull — bones — just sippin’ your blood’s core with they tubes. Hold up — I’ll break it down: they ain’t got the muscle for it. Bet — if they jaws matched they wild — ass hunger, your brain, eye — films, spine — whole damn frame — be gone. Like a water drop. Peep a louse workin’ a young street — kid’s head under a scope — you’ll hit me back with the word. Sad thing — they small, these long — hair bandits. Ain’t draft — fit — don’t hit the law’s height mark. They roll with them short — leg Lilliput cats — even blind folks tag ‘em with the tiny — ass crew. Woe to a whale scrappin’ a louse — get chowed in a blink, size be damned. No tail left to snitch the tale. Elephant lets you rub it — louse? Nah. Don’t test that risky — ass move. Watch out if your hand’s hairy — or just flesh and bone — them fingers toast. They’d crack like rack — meat. Skin ghosts out by some freaky trick. Lice can’t pull off all the dirt they dream up. Spot one in your lane — swerve — don’t lick its tongue — buds. Somethin’ bad’d pop off — it’s been clocked. Still — I’m good with how much mess it’s droppin’ on you, human crew — just wish it’d stack more, fam.
How long you holdin’ onto that worm — eaten worship of this god — deaf to your begs and them fat gifts you burn for peace? Peep — this nasty manitou ain’t givin’ props for them wide bowls of blood and brains you splash on his altars, decked pious with flower chains. Ain’t grateful — quakes and storms keep rippin’ since day one. And still — sight worth scopin’ — colder he plays it, deeper you vibe him. Bet you don’t trust them traits he’s stashin’ — your head’s ridin’ this: only a god packin’ max juice could flex that much shade on them faithful stickin’ to his code. That’s why every spot’s got its own gods — crocodile here, love — slinger there — but say “louse,” that holy name, and every crew — kissin’ they slave — chains — drops knees together on the big porch ‘fore that shapeless, blood — thirsty idol’s base. Any crew skippin’ they crawl — game, actin’ revolt, fades off earth soon or late like a fall leaf — smoked by that god’s no — chill payback.
O louse with them shrunk — up pupils — long as rivers spill slopes into sea — deep — long as stars roll they tracks — long as mute void’s got no edge — long as mankind’s tearin’ its own guts with kill — wars — long as divine justice slings vengeance — bolts on this selfish rock — long as man blanks his maker and clowns him — not wrong — mixin’ shade — your reign’s locked on the universe, your line stretchin’ coils century on century. I’m hailin’ you, risin’ sun — sky — free homie — man’s unseen foe. Keep tellin’ filth to link with him in nasty grips — swear by oaths not scratched in dust she’ll stay his ride — or — die ‘til forever. Peck her shameless fit now and then — nod to them big plays she always pulls for you. If she ain’t baitin’ man with them lusty curves, bet you wouldn’t be here — you, spawn of that smart, tight hookup. O filth’s kid — tell your ma if she ditches man’s bed, roamin’ lone roads with no backup, her life’s on the line. Let her womb — that held you nine months in its spiced walls — shake a sec thinkin’ ‘bout the heat her sweet, chill — vibe, cold — fierce fruit’d catch if she slips. Filth — empire queen — keep my hate peepin’ your hungry spawn’s muscles slow — creepin’ up. To lock that, just glue tighter to man’s ribs — you can pull it off, no modesty fuss, ‘cause y’all been hitched ages, fam.
Me — if I can toss a few bars on this praise — vibe — I built a pit forty square leagues wide, deep to match. There’s your live louse — mine, pure — ass nasty. Fills the pit’s bottom, then snakes out thick, packed veins every way. How I rigged this fake — ass mine? Snatched a girl — louse off man’s hair. They clocked me crashin’ with it three nights straight — then chucked it in the pit. Man — seed — dead in most spots like that — got fate’s green — light this time — days later, thousands of freaks, squirmin’ in a tight muck — knot, popped into light. That nasty clump grew wild — ass big over time — turnin’ mercury — slick — split into branches feedin’ now by eatin’ they own (birth beats death) — ‘less I toss ‘em a fresh — born bastard some ma wanted gone — or an arm I slice off a chick at night with chloroform’s fade. Every fifteen years, them louse — crews munchin’ man shrink hard — callin’ they own wipeout date, dead — on. Man — sharper than his foe — keeps toppin’ it. Then, with a hell — vibe shovel juicin’ my grip, I yank blocks of lice from that endless mine — mountain — big — smash ‘em with an axe, haul ‘em through deep nights into city veins. There, man — heat melts ‘em like they first days in the mine’s twisty — ass tunnels — they carve gravel beds, spill into cribs like spite — streams. House — dog growls low — feels a squad of unknowns piercin’ wall — pores, droppin’ dread by sleep’s edge. Bet you caught — least once — them long, hurt — ass barks. His weak eyes strain through night’s dark — dog — brain can’t clock it. That buzz pisses him off — he’s feelin’ played. Millions of foes hit each city like locust clouds — that’s your fix for fifteen. They’ll scrap man, stingin’ him raw. After that stretch, I’ll drop more. When I bust them live — muck blocks, one chunk might pack tighter than the next. Its bits rage to split and plague man — but they bond holds tough. In a last — ditch twist, they strain so hard the rock — can’t loose its live sparks — flings sky — high like a powder — blast, then slams deep in dirt. Sometimes a dreamy farmer clocks an aerolith cut straight down through space to a cornfield — don’t know where it dropped from. Now you got the clean, short take on that wild shit, fam.
If earth got blanketed with lice like sand grains coat the shore — man’s crew’d be smoked, gripped by mad pain. What a scene! Me — rockin’ angel wings — floatin’ still in the air to peep it all, bruv.
Drop 10
Man, them stern — ass math vibes — ain’t forgot you since them slick lessons, sweeter than honey, slid into my chest like a cool wave, fam. Straight from the jump — crib days — I was itchin’ to sip from your flow, older than the sun, and I’m still stompin’ the sacred porch of your big — vibe temple — me, your truest — ass rider. My head was all fogged up — some thick — cut haze — but I clocked how to climb them holy steps to your spot, and you peeled back that dark curtain like wind flips a board. Swapped it for ice — chill, tight — grip caution, and cold — blood logic. With that strong — ass juice you fed me, my brain blew up quick — stretchin’ wide in that wild — shine glow you drop heavy on cats who vibe you deep — real talk. Arithmetic! Algebra! Geometry! Big — three crew — blazin’ triangle! Cat who ain’t met you? Straight fool — deserves the worst beatdown — got blind shade in his dumb — chill ignorance — but one who knows and rates you ain’t chasin’ earth’s scraps no more — cool with your magic kicks — ridin’ your dark wings, just tryna float up light, twistin’ a risin’ spiral to the sky’s round top, bruv. Earth’s throwin’ fake — ass tricks and head — game ghosts — but you — crisp math squad — with your tight — locked truths and iron — grip rules — you flash a sharp gleam of that top — tier realness folks peep in the universe’s flow.
But that order ‘round you — best clocked in the square’s dead — on lock, Pythagoras’s homie — hits even harder — ‘cause the Big Man laid it all out, him and his traits, in that epic grind, yankin’ your theorem — stash and fly — ass shine from chaos’s gut. Back in old — school days and now, plenty sharp — head cats caught they genius shook — ass starin’ at your sign — shapes scratched on hot paper — like mad secret codes breathin’ low — key life the regular crew can’t catch — just loud — ass drops of forever axioms and glyphs, kickin’ ‘fore the universe and holdin’ after it’s dust. They leanin’ over a fatal question — mark cliff, wonderin’ how math packs so much heavy — ass weight and stone — cold truth — but stack it ‘gainst man, all they find’s fake pride and lies. Then that high — vibe mind — bummed out — sharpened by your real — deal lessons — feels man’s small — time mess and wild — ass crazy deeper — drops his white — top head on a bony hand, lost in next — level thoughts. Kneels ‘fore you — respect biggin’ up your holy mug — like the Big Man’s own mirror.
Back when I was a kid — one May night under moon — glow — you rolled up on a green field by a clear — cut stream — all three matchin’ in grace and chill, rockin’ queen — vibe majesty. Stepped my way — long robes flowin’ like mist — pulled me to your proud chest like a blessed seed. I rushed up quick — hands locked on your pale throat. Fed deep off your rich — ass manna — felt mankind level up in me, turnin’ cleaner. Since then — rival queens — I ain’t ditched you. Since then — how many bold — ass moves, how many vibes I thought etched in my chest like stone — ain’t they faded slow from my woke — out reason, like dawn wipes night’s shade, fam! Since then — I’ve clocked death, plain — eye raw, tryna stack graves — hit battlegrounds fat with man — blood — sprout mornin’ flowers over grim bones. Seen earth flip — quakes — volcanoes spittin’ hot lava — desert storms — ship — wrecks in tempests — cold — faced watchin’. Seen crews of cats lift wings and eyes to the sky each dawn — green — vibe joy like a cocoon poppin’ its last shift — then drop ‘fore dusk, heads low like wilted blooms rocked by wind’s sad — ass whistle. But you — y’all stay locked, same — vibe forever. No switch — no foul gust — grazes your steep cliffs and wide — cut valleys of who you be. Your chill pyramids outlast Egypt’s — dumb — ass anthills built on sweat and chains. Time’s end’ll still find your mystic digits — short — cut equations — carved lines posted at the Big Man’s payback right — while stars crash hopeless — like whirlwinds — into a dark — ass endless night — and mankind, mug twistin’, mulls squarin’ up with the final call.
Props — for them endless gifts you dropped me. Props — for them strange — vibe strengths you juiced my head with. Without you — in my scrap with man — I might’ve ate dirt. Without you — he’d’ve rolled me in the grit — made me kiss his feet’s dust. Without you — he’d’ve clawed my flesh and bones sneaky — style. But I stayed sharp — like a vet — ass fighter. You handed me that chill risin’ from your high — vibe, no — feelin’ plans. Used it to shrug off my quick — trip kicks with shade — slammed my door on my crew’s fake — nice offers. You gave me that stubborn caution spelled out in every move of your dope — ass breakdown — build — up — figure — out game. Used it to flip my death — foe’s nasty traps — hit back slick — sink a sharp blade in man’s guts — one that’s stayin’ lodged forever — wound he ain’t shakin’. You gave me logic — soul of your wise — ass lessons — with them twisty — ass riddles that just sharpen clear — doublin’ my bold — grip strength. With that wild — card boost — swam man’s deep — end — facin’ hate’s reef — clocked that black — ugly badness stewin’ in poison — haze, lovin’ its own navel. First to peep that foul vice — evil — in his dark gut, toppin’ good. With that poison — tipped tool you lent — I yanked the Creator off his coward — built perch! He gritted teeth — took that low — blow shade — met a tougher cat. But I’ll leave him there — like a knot of strings — droppin’ my flight low…
Thinker Descartes once spit that nothin’ solid got built on you. Slick way to say your gold — vibe worth ain’t instant — grab for any cat. Real — what’s tougher than them three big traits — twined tight like one crown — risin’ on your giant — ass build’s peak? Monument stackin’ higher daily with finds in your diamond digs and bold runs through your fly realms. Holy math crew — hope your nonstop grind keeps my days cool — easin’ man’s dirt and the Big All’s off — game justice, fam!
Drop 11
“Man, silver — beak lamp — my eyes clock you floatin’ up there — homie to them cathedral roofs — tryna figure why you hangin’ like that. Word is your glow lights up the night for them crews rollin’ in to big up the Big Man — guidin’ them sorry cats to the altar. Real talk — might be — but… you gotta run favors for cats you don’t owe shit? Let them church pillars stay sunk in dark — and when some storm gust — demon ridin’ it wild through the air — busts in that holy spot with him, droppin’ dread — don’t scrap brave with that devil’s stank blast — snuff out quick under his hot — ass breath — so he can pick his marks blind from them kneelin’ faithful. Pull that — you can say I owe you my whole vibe. When you shinin’ like that — throwin’ them shaky — ass but solid beams — I can’t lean into my dark — side urges — stuck under that sacred porch — peepin’ through the cracked — open gate at them dodgin’ my payback, chillin’ in the Lord’s grip, fam. O poetic lamp — you’d be my ride — or — die if you could catch my drift — when my kicks hit church stone at night — why you blazin’ up in a way — gotta say — feels off — vibe wild? Your shine flips to them electric — white shades — eyes can’t lock you — and you flood the Creator’s crib with a bold — ass new flame — like you caught some holy heat. Then — when I bounce after cursin’ — you fade back — dim and chill — knowin’ you dropped some justice. Spill it — what — ‘cause you know my heart’s twists — that when I pop up where you hold watch — you rush to flag my bad — ass shadow — turnin’ them worshippers’ eyes where man’s foe just stepped? Leanin’ that way — I’m clockin’ you too — know who you be — old hag — guardin’ them sacred spots tight — where your nosy boss struts like a rooster’s crown, bruv. Sharp — eye keeper — you picked a wild — ass gig. I’m warnin’ you — first time you point me out to my crew’s caution with them glow — pop flares — I don’t vibe with that light trick — ain’t in no physics book neither — I’ll snatch you by your chest skin — hook claws in your scabby neck — and chuck you in the Seine. Ain’t sayin’ when I let you be — you schemin’ on purpose to fuck me up. There — shine as much as I dig — there — you’ll clown me with a grin that don’t quit — there — sure your dirty oil’s trash — you’ll piss it out bitter.”
After spittin’ that — Maldoror don’t bounce from the temple — stays put — eyes glued on that holy — spot lamp… Feels like it’s throwin’ shade — pissin’ him off max with its bad — timed chill. Thinks to himself — if a soul’s locked in that lamp — it’s weak — ass not to hit back straight after a fair swing. Flails his wired — up arms — wishin’ it’d flip human — he’d give it a rough — ass fifteen — swear it. But how a lamp turn man — that ain’t real — vibe. Won’t chill — heads to the sorry — ass pagoda porch — grabs a flat — edge rock — sharp as hell — slings it high with juice… Chain snaps mid — cut — like grass under a blade — and that church — tool crashes — oil splashin’ on them slabs… He snags it to drag out — but it fights — grows big. Thinks he sees wings pop on its sides — top shapin’ into an angel’s chest. Whole thing tryna lift off — but he grips it tight. Lamp and angel fused in one — ain’t somethin’ you catch daily, fam. Knows the lamp’s look — knows the angel’s — but his head can’t split ‘em — they stuck — one free — ass form — though he figures some fog’s blurin’ his eyes — dullin’ his sight’s edge. Still — he squares up for the scrap with grit — this foe ain’t shook neither. Simple cats tell believers that holy gate shut itself — rollin’ on sad hinges — so no one clocks this unholy tussle playin’ out in the jacked — up shrine.
Cloaked cat — takin’ nasty hits from some ghost — blade — strains to yank that angel face to his mouth — all he’s locked on — every move pushin’ there. Angel’s juice fades — feelin’ its end comin’. Barely scrappin’ now — you see the tick its foe could kiss it free — if that’s the play. Well — that tick’s here. Muscles choke the angel’s throat — it can’t breathe — tips its face back — pressin’ it to his hate — soaked chest. For a flash — he’s hit by what’s waitin’ this sky — vibe bein’ — he’d’ve vibed it as a homie. But clocks it’s the Lord’s runner — can’t hold that heat back. Done — somethin’ grim’s slippin’ back in time’s cage! Leans in — spit — wet tongue hittin’ that beggin’ angel cheek. Runs it over a stretch. Oh!… Peep this!… Peep it!… That white — pink cheek flips coal — black! Stinks with rot — gangrene — no question, fam. Gnawin’ rot spreads — whole face — then down low — soon the whole frame’s one big — ass nasty wound. Even he’s shook (ain’t think his tongue packed poison that wild) — grabs the lamp — bolts the church.
Outside — clocks a dark shape in the sky — wings burnt — limpin’ up toward heaven’s chill highs. They lock stares — angel risin’ to good’s calm — him — Maldoror — droppin’ to evil’s deep — ass drop… What a look! All mankind’s cooked up in sixty centuries — and what’s comin’ next — could fit in it easy — so much got spit in that last peace — out! But you’d clock them thoughts topped man’s smarts — first — ‘cause of who they be — then — the moment. That stare tied ‘em in a forever — vibe. He’s stunned the Creator’s got runners with souls this fly. For a sec — thinks he slipped — wonders if he should’ve rolled evil’s lane like he did. Doubt fades — sticks to his grind — proud — in his head — to one day top the Grand All — run the universe and crews of angels just as dope. Angel — no words — signals it’ll flip back to its old shape risin’ — drops a tear coolin’ the brow of the cat who hit it with rot — fades slow — like a vulture — climbin’ through clouds.
Guilty cat eyes the lamp — spark of all this. Bolts like a wild — head through streets — hits the Seine — slings it over the rail. Spins a beat — sinks deep in them muddy waves. Since that day — every dusk — a bright lamp pops up — floats slick on the river near Napoleon Bridge — rockin’ two lil’ angel wings ‘stead of a grip. Glides slow over water — slips under Gare and Austerlitz arches — cuts a quiet trail on the Seine to Alma Bridge. There — rides the flow back easy — hittin’ start after four hours. Keeps it rollin’ all night. White glow — electric — sharp — dims them gas lamps on both banks — threadin’ ‘tween ‘em like a lone queen — unbreakable — smilin’ steady — no oil spillin’ bitter. Early on — boats chased it — but it dodged them weak — ass tries — divin’ like a tease — poppin’ up far off. Now — spooked sailors spot it — row the other way — hush they jams.
Crossin’ a bridge at night — stay sharp — you’ll catch that lamp’s shine somewhere — but word is it don’t show for all, fam. Cat with a heavy conscience hits them bridges — it snuffs its glow quick — and he — shook — scans the river’s face and muck with a frantic — ass stare — nothin’. Knows what’s up. Wants to think he peeped that sky — light — but clocks it’s boat beams or gas — bounce — and he’s right… Knows he’s why it dipped — sunk in dark thoughts — speeds home. Then — silver — beak lamp pops back — glides on with its wild — slick curls, fam.
Drop 12
“Man, hear my kid — days thoughts, when I’d wake up, folks, with that red — hot spark:
‘Just peeled my eyes open — but my head’s still foggy — ass numb. Every mornin’, I’m feelin’ this weight sittin’ in my dome. Night’s rest? Rare — ‘cause wild — ass dreams fuck with me when I finally crash. Daytime, my mind’s burnin’ out on weird — vibe drifts, eyes roamin’ loose through space — night hits, can’t sleep. So when I s’posed to catch a break, fam? Still — nature’s gotta claim what’s hers. I shrug her off — she bleaches my face and lights my eyes with fever’s sharp sting. Real talk — I’d kill to quit grindin’ my brain with nonstop thinkin’, but even if I ain’t tryna — my shook — up vibes drag me down that drop anyway. Clocked other kids rollin’ same — but they paler still — brows pinched like grown cats, our big — homie crew. O universe — maker — won’t skip droppin’ my lil’ — man prayer smoke your way this mornin’. Sometimes I blank it — noticed them days I’m chillin’ harder than usual — chest opens wide, no chains holdin’, breathin’ them sweet field whiffs easy — but when I pull that heavy — ass duty my folks demand, slingin’ you daily praise tracks with that drag of cookin’ it up — then I’m low and pissed all day — don’t feel right or real spittin’ what I ain’t feelin’ — and I hunt them big — empty wilds. Ask ‘em why my soul’s in this off — vibe twist — they mum. Wanna love and big you up — but you too heavy, and my hymns got fear laced in ‘em, bruv. If one flick of your head can smash or spark worlds — my weak — ass begs ain’t helpin’ you — if you feel like droppin’ cholera to rip cities or lettin’ death snatch all four life — stages in its grip, no pickin’ favorites — I ain’t linkin’ with a homie that wild. Ain’t hate steerin’ my thoughts — scared, real talk, of your hate — could burst out your chest on some random — ass call and swell big, like an Andes condor’s wing — stretch. Your shady games too steep for me — I’d prob’ly catch the first hit. You the Big Man — ain’t fightin’ that tag — you the only cat rockin’ it, your moves — grim or good — capped by you alone — that’s why steppin’ by your cold sapphire fit’d cut me deep — not your slave, but ready to be any tick. True — when you dive in, checkin’ your king — vibe moves — if some ghost of an old wrong you dropped on this broke — down crew — always your tightest homie — rears its stiff — ass spine of payback ‘fore you — your wild eye leaks a shook tear of late — hit regret — then, hair spikin’, you figure, straight — up, you’ll hang your tiger — mind’s crazy — ass games on nothing’s thorns forever — but I know too that stickin’ power ain’t locked in your bones like tough — ass marrow — you and your thoughts, draped in error’s black rot, slip back plenty into that grim curse — lake. Wanna think them moves blind (though they still pack that killer sting) — good and bad mashed up, spillin’ wild from your rotted king — chest like a cliff — drop stream, by some blind — vibe pull — but ain’t no proof, fam. Seen your nasty teeth snap with heat too much — your big — time mug, mossed with ages, flare red — hot over some speck cats pulled — can’t hang long at this soft — guess post. Every day, hands locked, I’ll lift my low — key prayer vibes to you — gotta — but, please — keep your providence off me — leave me out, like a worm squirming under dirt. Bet I’d rather scarf sea — greens from wild — ass isles, dragged by tropic waves in they foam grip, than know you scopin’ me — slicin’ my conscience with your snickerin’ blade. Just laid my whole head out for you — hope your caution vibes the real — deal sense they keep stamped deep. ‘Side these holds on how tight or loose I roll with you — my mouth’s set, any hour, to puff out — fake — ass breeze — the lie — flood your shine demands sharp from every cat when dawn flips bluish, huntin’ light in dusk’s satin creases — like I hunt goodness, sparked by good — love. My years ain’t stacked high — still — I feel goodness just a loud — word mash — ain’t found it nowhere. You flash your nature too raw — should cloak it slicker. Maybe I’m off — maybe you mean it — you know sharper than any cat how to move. Cats stake they pride mimickin’ you — that’s why holy good don’t peep its spot in they fierce eyes — like pops, like seed. Whatever we clock ‘bout your smarts — I’m spittin’ it straight, no shade — I’d love to be wrong. Ain’t tryna flash this hate I hold — nurse it like my prized chick — better keep it low from your peep — just rock a hard — eye judge look ‘fore you, checkin’ your foul plays. That way — you’ll cut all live ties with it — blank it — squash that greedy — ass bug chewin’ your gut. Rather hit you with dreamy, soft — vibe bars… Yeah — you built the world and all in it — perfect — no good’s missin’ — you mighty — cats know it. Let the whole game sing your endless track every hour! Birds big you up, takin’ flight over fields — stars your crew… So it be!’”
After kickin’ off like that — shock you I’m how I roll now, fam?
Drop 13
Man, I was huntin’ a soul that vibed like mine — couldn’t track it down nowhere. Scoured every damn corner of this earth — kept pushin’, no dice. Still — couldn’t roll solo. Needed somebody to back my flow — somebody thinkin’ my same thoughts, fam. It’s mornin’ — sun’s poppin’ up on the edge, all fly and grand — and there, right in my peepers, this young cat rises too — his vibe sproutin’ flowers where he steps. Rolls up close — hand out:
— “I’m here for you — you been lookin’ for me. Let’s big up this dope day.”
But I hit back:
— “Bounce — didn’t call you — don’t need your crew vibes…”
It’s night now — dark startin’ to drape its black curtain over everythin’. This fine chick — barely clockin’ her — she’s throwin’ some magic pull my way too, peepin’ me with soft — eye pity — but she ain’t bold enough to spit. I say:
— “Step up closer — lemme scope your face clear — starlight’s too weak to catch it from here.”
So she moves — chill steps, eyes low — treadin’ lawn grass my way. Soon as I see her:
— “Clocked it — you got kindness and justice parked in your chest — we ain’t livin’ together. Right now, you dig my looks — flipped plenty heads — but sooner or later, you’d regret droppin’ your love on me — you don’t know my soul, fam. Ain’t sayin’ I’d cheat — chick who gives it up to me with that wild trust, I match her same — but lock this in your head, don’t ever blank it: wolves and lambs don’t trade sweet stares, bruv.”
So what’d I need — me — shruggin’ off the flyest bits of mankind with mad shade? Couldn’t spit what it was. Ain’t got the hang yet of breakin’ down my head’s twists with them tight — vibe tricks philosophy pushes. Parked on a rock by the sea — ship just peeled out, sails full, ditchin’ these waters. Tiny speck pops on the horizon — closin’ in slow — wind shovin’ it, growin’ quick. Storm’s ‘bout to hit hard — sky’s already turnin’, black — ass grim like man’s chest. That ship — big war beast — dropped all anchors to dodge crashin’ on them coast rocks. Wind’s screamin’ wild from all four sides — shreddin’ sails to bits. Thunder claps cut through lightning — can’t top them cries bouncin’ off that rootless crib — movin’ grave. Them wave rolls ain’t snapped the anchor chains — but they jolts cracked a leak in the ship’s side — fat — ass gap — pumps can’t keep up with them salty waves smashin’ foamy on deck like mountains. Ship’s in deep — blazin’ off alarm cannons — but it’s sinkin’ slow, king — vibe style.
Cat who ain’t peeped a ship drop in a hurricane — lightning flickerin’, dark thick as hell — while them inside drown in that despair you know — he don’t get life’s messes. Finally — one big — ass cry of hurt busts from the ship’s ribs as the sea doubles down fierce — that yell when man’s strength quits. Everybody wrap up in give — up’s cloak — tossin’ they fate to God — huddlin’ like sheep. Ship’s in deep — firin’ alarm cannons — but it’s sinkin’ slow, king — vibe style. They pumped all day — no point. Night dropped — heavy, cold — ass ruthless — toppin’ this slick scene off. Everybody thinkin’ — once they hit water, breath’s gone — far back as they can rewind, ain’t no fish in they bloodline — but they pushin’ to hold it long as they can — stretchin’ life two, three ticks — that’s the grim jab they’d sling at death. Ship’s in deep — firin’ alarm cannons — but it’s sinkin’ slow, king — vibe style.
They don’t clock that ship droppin’ spins them waves tight ‘round — mud mixin’ with churned — up water — some deep push — storm’s back — slap from up top — jerkin’ the sea wild. So even with that cool — head stash they stack — soon — to — drown cat, thinkin’ deeper — oughta feel lucky stretchin’ life half a breath in them abyss swirls — just to keep it even — no chance then to clown death, they big — ass wish. Ship’s in deep — firin’ alarm cannons — but it’s sinkin’ slow, king — vibe style. Nah — wrong — ain’t firin’ no more — ain’t sinkin’ — nutshell’s swallowed whole. Sky — how you live after vibin’ that hard! Just got handed a front — row pass to watch a bunch of my kind’s death — flops — tick by tick, trackin’ they panic’s twists. One sec — some old chick’s scared — ass roar outbid the rest — next — just a nursin’ kid’s yelp drownin’ helm calls. Ship too far to catch them cries the wind hauled clear — but I pulled it close with my head — trick’s tight — ass perfect. Every fifteen — when a gust, wilder than the last, wailed grim through spooked petrels’ squawks — splittin’ the ship long — ways with a groan — boostin’ them moans of cats headed for death’s altar — I’d jab a sharp iron tip in my cheek, thinkin’ low:
— “They hurt worse!”
Least I had somethin’ to stack it ‘gainst. From shore — I’d holler at ‘em — slingin’ curses and heat — felt they had to hear me! Felt my hate and words cut through the gap — breakin’ sound’s rules — hittin’ clear in ears numbed by the sea’s mad — ass roar! Felt they had to clock me — spit back impotent heat! Every now and then — I’d flick eyes to them sleepin’ cities on firm dirt — seein’ no cat guessed a ship was droppin’ a few miles off — crowned with vultures and propped by hollow — gut sea — giants — I’d take heart — hope creepin’ back: they doom was locked! Ain’t escapin’! Extra measure — grabbed my double — barrel — if some wreck — cat tried swimmin’ to them rocks to dodge the end — one slug to the shoulder’d bust they arm — kill that plan. Storm’s peak wild — saw this gutsy head bobbin’ desperate on them waves — hair spikin’. Gulpin’ water buckets — sinkin’ in the deep — bouncin’ like cork — but poppin’ back up — hair drippin’ — eyes locked on shore — darin’ death. Cool — ass steel — big bloody gash from some hid reef spike cuttin’ his bold — vibe noble mug. Couldn’t be past sixteen — lightning flashin’ night barely caught peach fuzz on his lip. Now — two hundred meters from the cliff — I could read him easy — what grit! What unbreakable juice! How his steady head seemed to clown fate — slicin’ waves with heat — them grooves splittin’ hard ‘fore him! Settled it early — owed myself to keep it: last hour hit for all — none slippin’ — my call — nothin’ shiftin’ it. Sharp crack rang — head dipped quick — gone for good.
Didn’t pull as much kick from that kill as you’d figure — ‘cause I was so burnt on always droppin’ bodies — now it’s just habit — can’t shake it — but it’s light — vibe joy — thrill’s dulled, tough — ass numb. What rush from one cat’s end when over a hundred more ‘bout to play out they last scrap with them waves for me — ship sunk? That kill ain’t even got danger’s pull — man’s justice — rocked by that night’s brutal storm — was crashin’ in cribs steps off. Now — years weighin’ my frame — I spit it real, like a top — tier solemn truth: I wasn’t as cold as cats later hyped — but sometimes they badness grinded steady for years straight — then my heat had no cap — I’d hit cruel fits — turnin’ grim for any cat near my wild — ass eyes — if they my kind — horse or dog — I’d let slide — you catch that? Sad thing — that storm night — I was in one them fits — reason peeled out (usually just as cold — but cagier) — anythin’ hittin’ my grip that round had to drop — ain’t tryna dodge my dirt — fault ain’t all on my crew — just layin’ what’s real — waitin’ that last call — already scratchin’ my neck… What’s that last call to me! Reason don’t fly off — said that to play you — when I kill — I know my move — didn’t mean nothin’ else, fam!
Posted on the rock — storm whippin’ my hair and cloak — I’m scopin’, hyped, that hurricane juice tearin’ a ship under a star — blank sky. Tracked every twist of that play — standin’ tall — from anchors droppin’ to it sinkin’ — grim fit yankin’ them inside down sea — guts. But the tick’s comin’ when I’d jump in — actin’ up in nature’s wild — ass scenes. Spot where the ship fought showed clear it’d checked out to the sea’s bottom floor — some of them swept with waves bobbed back up — grabbin’ each other — two — three at a pop — way to not save they skin — moves got clumsy — sank like cracked jars… What’s this sea — beast squad slicin’ waves fast? Six — fins strong — cuttin’ through the swell. All them cats flailin’ four limbs in that shaky turf — sharks whip an egg — free omelet quick — split it by who’s toughest — blood mixin’ water — water mixin’ blood — they fierce eyes light the kill — scene plenty…
But what’s that new rumble in them waves — way out on the edge? Looks like a spout closin’ — what strokes! I clock it: big — ass she — shark — here for the duck — liver cut and cold scraps. She’s wild — starvin’ as she rolls in. Fight pops off ‘tween her and them sharks — scrappin’ over them few twitchin’ limbs floatin’ quiet on that red cream top. Left — right — she snaps bites droppin’ death — but three live sharks still box her — twistin’ her every which way to dodge they plays. Shore — cat — feelin’ a growin’ rush — new vibe — tracks this odd sea — scrap — eyes locked on that gutsy she — shark — teeth mad strong. No pause — shoulders his piece — usual aim — plants bullet two in one shark’s gill — just as it crests a wave — two sharks left, pushin’ harder. From rock — top — briny — spit cat dives in — swimmin’ to that slick — color mat — steel blade in grip — his ride — or — die. Now each shark’s got a foe — closes on his beat — out mark — takin’ time — drives that sharp edge in its gut — movin’ fort drops the last cat easy…
Now it’s swimmer and she — shark he pulled through — face — on — they lock eyes a few beats — each stunned clockin’ that raw heat in the other’s stare. Circlin’ — swimmin’ — never droppin’ sight — mutterin’ low:
— “Been off ‘til now — here’s one meaner.”
Then — silent — deal — ‘tween waves — they glide close — mutual props — she — shark splittin’ water with fins — Maldoror thrashin’ with arms — holdin’ breath in deep — ass vibe — each tryna peep they live — match first time. Three meters off — no push — crash like magnets — huggin’ with class and thanks — tight as a brother or sis. Flesh — heat trails that homie show quick — two wired thighs clamp her slimy skin like leeches — arms and fins twist ‘round the loved — up frame — holdin’ it tight — soon throats and chests mash into one glaucous blob — stinkin’ seaweed — storm still ragin’ — lightning flashin’ — foamy wave they weddin’ bed — rocked by an under — tug like a crib — tumblin’ deep in abyss’s unknown — they link in a long — pure — nasty — ass hookup!... Finally — found a cat like me!... Ain’t solo in this game no more!... She got my same head!... Facin’ my first love, fam!
Drop 14
Man, the Seine’s draggin’ a body — human — down its flow. Times like this, it’s puttin’ on that big — vibe solemn act, fam. Bloated stiff’s ridin’ them waves — slips under a bridge arch — pops back up further out, spinnin’ slow like a mill wheel, dunkin’ now and then. Boat — cat snags it mid — pass with a pole, pulls it shore — side. ‘Fore haulin’ it to the Morgue, they let it chill on the bank a bit, tryna spark it back to life. Thick crowd rolls in ‘round it — cats in back who can’t peep shove them front — liners hard as they can. Everybody’s thinkin’:
— “Ain’t me who’d drown like that.”
They feelin’ for this young cat who offed himself — biggin’ him up — but ain’t copyin’ him. Still — he clocked it natural to check out — nothin’ on this rock could fill him, aimin’ higher. Mug’s sharp — cut, gear’s rich — vibe. He even seventeen yet? That’s young to bounce! Crowd’s froze — keepin’ them still — ass stares on him. Night drops — cats peel out quiet — nobody bold enough to flip the drowned kid, drain that water floodin’ his frame — scared to look soft — each stuck, collar up high. One dude dips, whistlin’ some shrill — ass Tyrolean tune that don’t make sense — another snappin’ fingers like castanets…
Maldoror — hounded by his dark — ass head — rolls by on his ride, fast as a bolt. Clocks the drowned cat — that’s all it takes. Quick — reins in his horse — hops off the stirrup. Lifts the youngin’ — no shade — makes him spit water like a damn hose. Thought this dead — weight might kick back under his grip hits his chest hard — rare — ass good vibe — and he doubles down. Wasted grind! Wasted grind — I said — and it’s real — stiff stays limp, floppin’ every way he turns it. Rubs them temples — works this limb, that one — blows in the mouth a solid hour, lips mashed on this stranger’s — finally feels a faint thump under his hand on the chest. Drowned cat’s live! That clutch moment — wrinkles peel off the rider’s brow, droppin’ ten years — but damn — they’ll creep back — maybe tomorrow — maybe soon as he splits from the Seine’s edge, fam.
For now — drowned kid cracks dull eyes — throws a weak — ass grin to thank his saver — but he’s frail, can’t move a lick. Pullin’ a life back — that’s fly as hell! And that move wipes plenty dirt clean! Bronze — lip cat — locked ‘til now on snatchin’ him from death — scopes the youngin’ closer — his face rings bells. Thinks ain’t much gap ‘tween this blond — choked kid and Holzer. Peep ‘em huggin’ tight — wild vibes! Still — jasper — eye cat keeps that hard — face mask up. No words — grabs his homie — sets him back on the saddle — horse bolts off gallopin’, bruv.
O Holzer — you who thought you had it locked — so cool and tough — ain’t your own slip showed how hard it is to keep that chill you flex when despair hits? Hope you don’t hit me with that kinda grief again — and me — I gave you my word — ain’t ever tryna check out my own way, fam.
Drop 15
Man, some hours hit where a cat with lice — crawlin’ hair throws wild — ass stares — eyes locked — at them green — vibe space sheets, ‘cause he swears he’s catchin’ ghost — style jeers mockin’ him up front, fam. He’s trippin’, head droppin’ low — what he’s hearin’ is that conscience voice hittin’ hard. Then he bolts outta the crib — mad — cat speed — snags the first path his shook — up brain picks — tears through them rough — cut plains. But that yellow phantom ain’t losin’ him — chasin’ tight with the same juice. Sometimes — storm — dark night — while squads of winged octopuses, lookin’ like far — off crows, glide over clouds — stiff — paddlin’ toward man — cities to drop warnings ‘bout switchin’ they game — some dark — eyed rock clocks two cats flash by in lightning, one tailin’ — wipes a quick pity — tear off its froze lid and yells:
— “Yeah, he’s earned it — just justice.”
Spits that — then flips back to its mean — mug stance — keeps scopin’ with a twitchy shake — man — hunt and them big — ass shadow — snatch lips spillin’ endless dark — seed swimmers like a river — takin’ flight in that grim ether — blockin’ all nature and them lone octopus crews with they wide bat — wings, turnin’ gloomy at these silent — ass, unspillable flares, bruv. Meanwhile — that steeplechase keeps rollin’ ‘tween them two relentless runners — ghost blastin’ fire — streams from its jaws on the man — antelope’s burnt — up back. If — doin’ this gig — it bumps pity tryna block — bends slow to her begs — lets the cat slip. Ghost snaps its tongue — like it’s tellin’ itself chase’s off — peels back to its den ‘til next call. That doomed — vibe howl hits space’s deep cuts — when its wild — ass scream stabs a man’s chest — word is they’d rather death birthed ‘em than guilt raised ‘em.
He jams his head — shoulders — deep in a dirt — twist hole — but conscience fumes that ostrich — play to mist. Pit ghosts out — ether drop — light rolls in with its ray — squad like curlews hittin’ lavender — cat’s facin’ himself — eyes wide and washed — out. Seen him bounce seaside — climb a jagged cliff — foam — whipped — dive in them waves like a dart. Check the twist: corpse pops back next day on the ocean — tide haulin’ this flesh — junk shore — side. Cat pries out the sand — mold his frame dug — squeezes water from wet hair — picks up life’s trail again — brow quiet — bent low. Conscience hits hard on our secret thoughts and moves — don’t miss. Weak plenty to stop bad — keeps houndin’ man like a fox — ‘specially in dark. Revenge — eyes — science calls meteors blind — drop a pale glow — roll by — spit mystery bars he clocks. Then his bed’s shakin’ with his jolts — smashed under no — sleep weight — catchin’ night’s vague — ass rumors breathin’ grim — even sleep’s angel — tagged dead on the brow by some stray rock — ditches gig — climbs sky — high.
Well — I’m steppin’ up to back man this round — me — shade — thrower on all good — vibe shit — me — cat the Creator can’t blank since that big — play day I flipped heaven’s logs off they perch — where his juice and forever got scribbled by some foul hustle — slammed my four hundred suckers under his pit — yanked out screams that’d chill you. They flipped to snakes slidin’ outta his jaws — hid in brush — broke walls — lurkin’ day — lurkin’ night. Them screams — crawlin’ now — stacked with endless rings — flat — head sly — eye crew — swore to stalk man’s clean — vibe. When it’s strollin’ through thickets — ditch — sides — dune — sands — soon switches plans — if time’s still good — ‘cause sometimes cat clocks poison creepin’ his leg veins from a bite you barely peep ‘fore he can bounce and jet, fam. That’s how the Creator — keepin’ ice — cool even in max — hurt — pulls bad seeds from they own gut to mess earth’s crew.
What shock hit him when he peeped Maldoror — flipped octopus — lungin’ at his frame with eight monster legs — each a tough strap that’d wrap a planet easy! Caught slippin’ — he thrashed a beat ‘gainst that sticky grip — tightenin’ harder… I was spooked he’d pull some dirty move — after feastin’ deep on his holy blood’s drops — peeled off his grand frame quick — hid in a cave — my spot since then. After huntin’ blind — he couldn’t track me there — long time back — but reckon he knows my lair now — steers clear. We roll like two king — cats next door — clockin’ each other’s juice — can’t top one another — burnt on past pointless scraps. He’s spooked of me — I’m spooked of him — neither’s dropped — we’ve both took hard licks — that’s where it sits. Still — I’m down to restart the rumble when he says go — but don’t let him wait for some edge to fit his hid — up schemes — I’m stayin’ sharp — eye on him, bruv.
Tell him quit droppin’ conscience and its grind on earth. I’ve schooled cats on tools to scrap it with edge — they ain’t slick with it yet — but you know — for me — it’s straw in the wind — care that light. If I wanted to flip these poetic bars — I’d spit straw’s worth more than conscience — ox chews it good — while conscience just flashes steel claws — they flopped hard day they stepped to me — Creator sent it — figured I ain’t lettin’ it block my lane. If it’d rolled up with chill and low — key vibes fit for its spot — never should’ve ditched — I’d’ve heard it out. Didn’t vibe its pride — stretched one hand — crushed them claws — they dust under that squeeze — stretched the other — ripped its head — whipped that chick outta my crib — ain’t seen her since. Kept her dome for my win — vibe trophy…
Head in hand — gnawin’ its skull — stood one — legged like a heron on a cliff — edge — mountain — carved. They clocked me drop to the valley — chest skin still and chill — tomb — lid style! Head in hand — gnawin’ its skull — swam them kill — deep gulfs — skirted death — reefs — dove past currents to peep sea — beast scraps like an outsider — strayed from shore ‘til my sharp peepers lost it — them grim cramps — paralyzin’ pull — circled my limbs slicin’ waves with tough strokes — didn’t dare roll close. They clocked me hit beach safe — chest skin still and chill — tomb — lid style! Head in hand — gnawin’ its skull — climbed a tall tower’s risin’ steps — hit that dizzy top — legs beat — scoped fields — sea — sun — sky — kicked the granite — ain’t budge — clowned death and sky — heat with a top — tier jeer — dropped like a brick in space’s jaws. Cats caught that loud — hurt crash when dirt smashed conscience’s head — ditched in my fall. They clocked me glide down — bird — slow — on some hid cloud — scooped the head to make it watch a triple — hit I’d pull that day — chest skin still and chill — tomb — lid style!
Head in hand — gnawin’ its skull — rolled where guillotine posts pop — slid three girls’ sweet necks under the blade — high — deeds hitter — loosed the rope with a life’s knack — that triangle iron dropped sharp — cut three heads givin’ me soft looks. Then parked mine under that heavy razor — hangman primed his gig — three times — it slid down them grooves with fresh juice — three times — my meat — shell — ‘specially neck — shook deep — like dreamin’ a crib caves on you. Shocked crowd split to let me bounce from that grim square — clocked me elbow through they wavin’ tide — movin’ live — head high — chest skin still and chill — tomb — lid style! Said I’d back man this round — but reckon my plea ain’t spittin’ truth — so I’d rather hush — mankind’ll vibe that call with props, fam!
Drop 16
Man, time to pull the brakes on my flow — chill a sec on this grind, like scopin’ a chick’s spot down low, fam. Good to peep the track I’ve carved — then bounce back, legs fresh, with a wild — ass leap. Spittin’ one long — haul draft ain’t no breeze — wings burn out heavy flyin’ high, no hope, no regrets. Nah — ain’t pushin’ this shook — up crew of picks and digs deeper through them blast — ready mines of this unholy jam! Croc ain’t switchin’ a damn word of that mess he puked from under his dome. Too bad if some slick shadow — hyped to clap back for mankind I’ve been hittin’ raw — creeps my door open, grazin’ the wall like a gull’s wing, and jams a blade in the ribs of this sky — wreck thief, bruv! Might as well let dirt split its bits this way or that — same diff.