The Hood Chants of Maldoror (AAVE Street Vibes)
Bar 6: The Block King Clash
Drop 1
“From here — novel’s strings pullin’ them three cats I named up top — givin’ ‘em juice less ghosted — life hittin’ grand through they blood — rush — you’ll clock how shook you get — seein’ where you first peeped just vague — ass shadows floatin’ in deep — head land — now it’s flesh — frames with nerve — webs and slick linings — then that soul — spark runnin’ meat’s moves, ye ken — cats packin’ raw — ass life — arms crossed — chest locked — posin’ straight ‘fore your mug (bet it’ll vibe poetic tho) — steps off — sunrays bouncin’ roof — tiles — chimney — tops — then flashin’ clean on they real — ass — earth — bound locks, mate.”
“But ain’t no curses no more — just laugh — bait — fake — ass masks better stuck in my dome — or nightmares perched too high over reg shit — peep this — my spit’s sharper for it — you’ll grip them risin’ aorta forks — adrenal pods — with your mitts — then them feels — first five drops ain’t waste — they framed my grind’s front — build’s base — early sketch o’ my next — level poetics — owed myself — ‘fore packin’ bags — hittin’ wild — ass dream — lands — tip off real lit heads with a quick — ass — sharp rundown o’ the play I’m chasin’, fam.”
“So I’m reckonin’ — that groundwork slice o’ my craft’s locked now — chopped ‘nuff — through it you clocked I’m swingin’ at man and the One who built him — for now — later — that’s all you need — fresh angles feel extra — just rehashin’ — bigger maybe — same spit — the point this day’s end kicks off, bruv.”
“From that — I’m rollin’ into the breakdown game now — real talk — minutes back I’m wishin’ hard you’re trapped in my skin’s sweat — pits — testin’ my spit’s truth straight — up — know I gotta stack mad proof for my theorem’s case — they’re there — you clock I don’t hit no cat without heavy — ass why, mate.”
“I’m crackin’ up — throat — deep — thinkin’ y’all hit me for droppin’ sour — ass shots at man — kind — me one o’ the squad (that alone backs me!) — and Providence — ain’t takin’ back shit — spillin’ what I seen — truth my only flex — justifyin’ it’s light work — today — cookin’ a lil’ thirty — page novel — that size holdin’ steady from here, reckon.”
“Vibin’ — soon — one day — my theories get crowned by some lit — ass form — think I hit — after some stumbles — my locked — ass mold — best ‘cause it’s the novel — this mixed — ass intro’s laid out kinda off — catchin’ readers quick — like — where’s this headed — that wild — ass stun — you’d shield book — cats from — I’m grindin’ hard to spark — couldn’t do less — ‘spite my good — ass vibes — later — few novels drop — you’ll clock this soot — faced renegade’s intro better, fam.”
Drop 2
“Man, ‘fore I dive in — I’m clockin’ it’s dumb as fuck I gotta (bet not every cat’s ridin’ my wave — if I’m off) park an open ink — pot and some clean — ass sheets by me, fam. That’s how I’m kickin’ off — mad love — this sixth jam — droppin’ them teachin’ bars I’m itchin’ to spit — grim — ass scenes packin’ raw — ass use, bruv.”
“Our king — he peeped hangin’ in caves — crashin’ spots no cat’s hittin’ — he’s fuckin’ up logic — runnin’ a tight — ass loop — ‘cause one way — it’s feedin’ his hate for the squad — solo vibes and distance payin’ off — lockin’ his small — ass turf ‘round stubby shrubs — thorns — wild vines — other way — his hustle’s starvin’ — no juice for that twisted — ass minotaur in his gut, ye ken — so he’s locked — rollin’ close to man — piles — knowin’ with all them ready — ass marks — his wild — ass cravings got plenty to chew, reckon.”
“He clocked the law — civ’s shield — been huntin’ him hard — years deep — whole crew o’ badges and sneaks ridin’ his tail — still ain’t nabbed him tho — his slick — ass moves flip they tightest plays — top — shelf style — dodgin’ traps built off the sharpest head — game — got a rare — ass knack for shapes no trained eye’s catchin’ — disguises on lock — artist spit — fits so weak they trash when I vibe morals, mate.”
“That’s where he’s brushin’ king — shit — y’all ain’t clocked that fly — ass cricket — quick — steppin’ Paris sewers? One cat like that — Maldoror — zappin’ fat — ass capitals with a dark — ass spark — numbin’ ‘em ‘til they can’t watch they own backs right — wild — ass risk ‘cause they ain’t even guessin’ — today Madrid — tomorrow Saint Pete’s — yesterday Peking, fam.”
“But pinnin’ where this poetic — ass Rocambole’s hittin’ dread — vibes now? That’s past my thick — ass head’s grind — bandit might be seven hundo leagues off this block — or steps from you — wipin’ man — kind clean ain’t light — laws hold tough — but patient — ass — pick ‘em off — them helpin’ ants — one by one, bruv.”
“Since my born — days — kickin’ with our crew’s first heads — still green slingin’ my traps — far — ass times past books — shapin’ wild — ass switches — I tore through globe — spots — eras deep — conquest — slaughter — sparkin’ civ — beef ‘mongst cats — ain’t I smashed whole waves under my kicks — piece by piece or all — in — count so fat it ain’t hard to clock? Bright past dropped big — ass promises to what’s next — it’s holdin’ ‘em, reckon.”
“For rakin’ my spit — gotta roll raw — back to them wild cats for lessons — straight — up — grand gents — they slick — ass mouths lift every drop off they inked lips — just proved ain’t shit funny on this rock — odd — ass globe — but fly — snatchin’ a vibe some’ll tag green (when it’s deep — ass hell) — bendin’ it for thoughts that might not pop grand — damn shame, mate!”
“That’s me ditchin’ light — ass — doubtin’ chat — vibes — sharp ‘nuff not to drop… lost my spit’s start — blanked — know poetry’s crashin’ where man’s duck — ass — dumb grin ain’t at, fam.”
“Gotta blow my nose first — need it — then — hand ridin’ heavy — snatch that pen my fingers dropped — how’s Carrousel bridge hold chill when it caught that sack screamin’ raw — ass tears, bruv?”
Drop 3
Joint 1 — I
“Man, Rue Vivienne’s spots flashin’ they goods — eyes poppin’ — lit up by mad gas jets — mahogany boxes — gold ticks spillin’ bright — ass beams through glass, fam. Eight bells hit at the Bourse clock — ain’t late — last hammer clang’s still echoin’ when the street — name dropped — starts shakin’ — rattlin’ its bones from Place Royale to Boulevard Montmartre, bruv.”
“Crew on foot speed up — dip back to they cribs — heads heavy — chick blacks out — flops on asphalt — no cat’s liftin’ her — all itch to jet this block — shutters slam hard — folks buryin’ under blankets — like that Asian plague popped its head — while most o’ the city’s gearin’ to vibe in nightlife’s wave — Rue Vivienne’s froze quick — some stone — ass grip — heart quit lovin’ — its juice gone cold, ye ken.”
“Soon — word o’ the weird hits the streets — dead — ass hush droppin’ over the big — ass capital — where them gas jets at? Love — sellers ghosted? Nothin’ — solo and black — owl — straight — flyin’ — busted leg — cuts over Madeleine — wings it to Trône gate — yellin’ — ‘Shit’s brewin’,’ reckon.”
“Now — this spot my pen — real — ass homie ridin’ with me — just tagged spooky — peek where Rue Colbert slices into Rue Vivienne — you’ll clock — at that crisscross angle — a cat’s shape poppin’ — light — steppin’ toward the boulevards — get closer — sly — ass — don’t catch his eye — and you’ll peep — mad — ass shock — he’s young — far off — you’d swear he’s grown — days don’t count when you’re sizin’ a deep — ass mug’s smarts, mate.”
“I’m sharp readin’ years off brow — lines — sixteen and four months — fly as raptor claws pullin’ back — or that twitchy — ass flex in neck — flesh cuts — nah — more like that rat — trap — endless — reset by the caught — snatchin’ rodents solo — tickin’ under straw — ‘specially that wild — ass meet — sewin’ machine and umbrella on a cut — slab, fam.”
“Mervyn — blond England’s kid — fresh off fencin’ class with his teach — wrapped in that Scots tartan — headin’ back to his folks — eight — thirty — vibin’ to hit crib by nine — bold — ass move actin’ like he’s got tomorrow locked — ain’t no curve — ball snaggin’ his roll? That shit so rare he’d brush it off light? Why ain’t he flippin’ it wild — ass he’s been cool — damn near happy — this far, bruv?”
“What’s he claimin’ — strollin’ home clean when some cat’s stalkin’ — tailin’ him like next — up prey? (You’d miss my thrill — scribin’ game — not droppin’ these cagey — ass whys ‘fore I close this spit) — y’all clocked the dream — king — been crushin’ my broke — ass head with his lone — ass weight long time, reckon.”
“Now Maldoror’s closin’ on Mervyn — tryna carve that kid’s mug in his dome — now — body flung back — he’s pullin’ like an Aussie boomerang’s second arc — nah — more like a hell — trap — waverin’ on his play — but his gut ain’t twitchin’ no baby — ass feelin’ — you’d guess wrong — saw him peel off opposite a tick — guilt weighin’ him? Nah — he’s back — fresh — ass fire, mate.”
“Mervyn ain’t clockin’ why his temple — veins bangin’ — steppin’ quick — gripped by some shook — ass vibe — him and you huntin’ blind for why — props for tryna crack it — why ain’t he turnin’? He’d peep it all — cats ever vibe the easy — ass fix to kill a scare, fam?”
“When a block — prowler roams suburb — cuts — white wine jug down his throat — blouse ripped — spots an old — ass muscle — cat by a post — kin to them revolts our pops clocked — starin’ glum at moonrays splashin’ sleepin’ flats — he slinks up — curvin’ — tags a scrappy mutt that bolts — noble cat stands tough ‘gainst its foe — fights hard for breath — tomorrow some rag — picker’s coppin’ a sparky hide — why ain’t it jet? Too easy, bruv.”
“But Mervyn’s makin’ this mess worse — blind — ass — rare — ass glints flicker — too faint to pin — can’t guess real — ain’t no seer — I ain’t buckin’ that — don’t claim it neither — hits the big drag — swings right — cuts through Boulevard Poissonnière — Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle — this leg o’ his roll — he’s pushin’ Rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis — leaves Strasbourg rail — yard back — parks at a tall gate ‘fore hittin’ Rue Lafayette’s cross — y’all say wrap this first drop here — I’m cool bendin’ to your call this time, reckon.”
“Y’all know — thinkin’ ‘bout that iron ring stashed under rock by some wild — ass hand — mad — ass chill runs my locks?”
Drop 4
Joint 2 — II
“Man, he yanks that copper knob — gate o’ this slick — ass crib spins open — strides ‘cross the yard — fine — ass sand scatterin’ — hits them eight porch steps — two statues posted left — right — like guards o’ this rich — ass spot — ain’t blockin’ him — cat who ditched pops — ma — sky — boss — love — dreams — all for his lone — ass grind — he’s sharp tailin’ them tracks ahead, fam.”
“He clocks him rollin’ into a fat ground — floor joint — cornelian wood deckin’ walls — fam’s kid flops on a sofa — shook so bad he can’t spit — his ma — long — ass gown draggin’ — fussin’ ‘round him — arms lockin’ tight — lil’ bros — younger than him — bunch up ‘round that couch — holdin’ weight — they ain’t lived ‘nuff to clock this play clear — then pops lifts his stick — drops a hard — ass stare on every cat, bruv.”
“Leanin’ wrist on chair — arms — he’s up from his reg spot — steppin’ — shook but old — ass weak — toward his first — born’s still frame — spits in some off — tongue — crew’s hush — respect lockin’ ‘em:”
“‘Who fucked the kid up like this? Thames’ fog’ll haul mad dirt ‘fore my juice’s tapped — no save — ass rules holdin’ in this cold — ass land — he’d catch my fist if I clocked the punk — quit sea — scraps — sure — but my commodore blade’s hangin’ wall — side — ain’t rusted yet — sharpenin’ it’s light — Mervyn — chill — I’m droppin’ word to my squad — track that cat I’m huntin’ now — end him my damn self — chick — step off — squat corner — wise — your eyes hittin’ me soft — cork them tears — son — I’m beggin’ — snap back — know your crew — pops talkin’…’”
“Ma peels back — grabs a book to ride her boss’s call — tryna chill while her womb — kid’s in deep — ass heat, ye ken.”
“‘… Young’uns — bounce park — side — watch them swans glide — don’t flop in that pond…’”
“Bros — hands danglin’ — hush — all rockin’ nightjar — feather caps — velvet shorts to knees — red silk socks — grip mitts — slip salon — tiptoein’ that black — wood floor — bet they ain’t playin’ — strollin’ plane — tree lanes heavy — ass — smarts kickin’ early — props to ‘em, reckon.”
“‘… Wasted care — rockin’ you in my grip — you’re deaf to my begs — lift your dome? I’ll kiss them knees if I gotta — nah — it drops dead…’”
—“‘Sweet boss — if your lil’ slave can — I’ll nab a vial o’ turpentine juice from my spot — hit it when headaches crash my head post — theater or them old — ass Brit knight tales from our kin’s books drag my vibe to nap — bogs.’”
—“‘Chick — I ain’t green — light your spit — you ain’t earned it — since we locked legit — no shade ‘tween us — I’m good with you — no gripes — you neither — grab that turpentine vial from your dresser — I know it’s there — don’t school me — hustle up that spiral stair — roll back with a chill mug.’”
“But that soft — ass London chick barely hits first steps (ain’t sprintin’ like some low — end lass) when her maid zips down from upstairs — cheeks red — ass sweat — clutchin’ that vial — might hold life’s brew in its crystal — bows slick handin’ it off — ma — queen — ass walk — nears sofa’s edge — her only tender — ass load, mate.”
“Commodore — proud — ass but cool — snags vial from his chick’s mitts — Indian scarf dips it — wraps Mervyn’s dome in silk’s twistin’ loops — he’s sniffin’ salts — arm twitchin’ — blood’s pumpin’ — Filipino cockatoo screamin’ joy from window — ledge, fam.”
“‘Who’s out there? Don’t hold me — where I’m at? Grave catchin’ my heavy — ass limbs? Planks feel soft — ma’s locket still ‘round my neck? Back — wild — ass punk — he ain’t nab me — left a chunk o’ my fit in his grip — loose them bulldog chains — some marked — ass thief might roll in tonight — bustin’ while we crashed — pops — ma — I clock y’all — props for the care — call my lil’ bros — grabbed pralines for ‘em — wanna hug ‘em…’”
“Words drop — he’s out — deep — ass haze — doc — rushed in quick — rubs mitts — yells:”
“‘Fit’s done — all good — tomorrow your kid’s up fresh — y’all — hit your racks — my call — I’m solo with the sick ‘til dawn cracks and nightingale sings.’”
“Maldoror — stashed door — side — ain’t missin’ a spit — now he’s got the crib’s vibe — movin’ smart — knows Mervyn’s spot — ain’t diggin’ deeper — jotted street — number in his pad — that’s the juice — locked — he won’t blank — slinks hyena — style — unseen — huggin’ yard — edges — scales gate slick — snags a tick on iron spikes — one leap — pavement — pads off wolf — quiet, bruv.”
“‘He tagged me crook,’ he spits — ‘fool — wish I’d hit a cat clean o’ that sick kid’s charge — ain’t snatched his fit’s chunk — he’s trippin’ — sleep — haze jump from fright — wasn’t tryna grab him today — got bigger plays for that shy — ass young’un later,’ reckon.”
“Roll where that swan lake’s at — I’ll spit later why one’s pitch — ass black in the crew — body holdin’ an anvil topped with a rot — ass crab — stirrin’ real — ass shade in its water squad, fam.”
Drop 5
Joint 3 — III
“Man, Mervyn’s holed up in his spot — copped a note — who’s hittin’ him with mail, fam? He’s too shook to thank the post — cat — envelope’s got black rims — words scratched quick — he takin’ this to pops? What if the sender’s straight — up blockin’ it, bruv?”
“Trippin’ hard — he cracks his window — suckin’ in air’s vibe — sunrays bouncin’ wild — ass prism — vibes off Venice glass and damask drapes — tosses the note ‘side — mixin’ with gold — edge books — pearl — lid albums — scattered on that stamped leather toppin’ his kid — desk — flips his piano open — slim fingers hittin’ ivory keys — brass strings stay dead — that sly — ass nudge got him grabbin’ the vellum again — but it pulls back — like it’s mad at his stall, ye ken.”
“Caught in that trap — Mervyn’s nosy — ass spikes — cracks that rag — bit ready for him — ‘til now — just clocked his own scribble — ‘Young cat — I’m feelin’ you — wanna lift your vibe — I’ll roll you as my ride — we hittin’ long treks through Oceania’s isles — Mervyn — you know I’m lovin’ you — ain’t gotta prove shit — you’ll drop me your bond — I’m locked on that — know me deeper — you ain’t regrettin’ that trust — I’m guardin’ you from green — ass risks — I’m your bro — good — ass words won’t dry — more spit — hit Carrousel bridge day — after — next — five mornin’ — I ain’t there — hold — I’m tryna clock sharp — you too — English cat ain’t ditchin’ a shot to square his game — young cat — peace — soon — don’t flash this to no one.’”
—“‘Three stars ‘stead o’ a tag,’ Mervyn yells — ‘and blood — smear at the bottom!’”
“Fat — ass tears hit them weird — ass lines his peepers ate — crackin’ his head wide to wild — ass — new edges — feels — since readin’ — pops too hard — ma too grand — got whys I ain’t clocked — can’t pass ‘em — hintin’ his bros ain’t his fit neither — stashes that note chest — deep, reckon.”
“Teach — cats peeped that day he’s off — eyes dark — ass wild — overthinkin’ veil droppin’ ‘round ‘em — each one flushed — shook they ain’t matchin’ his smarts — first time he skips grind — don’t hit shit, mate.”
“Night — fam links in the eatin’ hall — old — ass portraits deckin’ walls — Mervyn scopes plates stacked with juicy cuts — sweet — ass fruits — ain’t touchin’ — Rhine wine’s rainbow drip — champagne’s ruby fizz lockin’ tight — ass — tall Bohemian rock cups — his peepers don’t flinch — elbow on table — lost in head — space like he’s sleep — walkin’, fam.”
“Commodore — mug sea — smoked — leans to his chick’s ear — ‘Big kid’s flipped since that fit — already too deep in wild — ass thoughts — now he’s driftin’ worse — I ain’t vibe like that his age — play it blind — here’s where a sharp fix — flesh or soul — slides in — Mervyn — you dig travel tales — nature’s lore — I’m droppin’ a yarn you’ll feel — ear me sharp — we all eatin’ — me first — y’all young’uns — soak my spit — tighten your flow — clock a writer’s smallest drift.’”
“Like them cute — ass lil’ punks could catch rhetoric — he spits — hand flicks — one bro hits pops’ shelf — rolls back with a tome tucked — table’s cleared — silver’s gone — pops grabs book — ‘travels’ buzzin’ — Mervyn’s head snaps up — tryna ditch stray vibes — book’s cracked mid — gut — commodore’s steel — ass voice showin’ he still runs men — storms like his glory days, bruv.”
“Way ‘fore it wraps — Mervyn’s back on elbow — can’t track them filed — down lines — soaped — up word — twists — pops yells — ‘This ain’t grippin’ him — flip it — read — chick — you’ll hit luck chasin’ our kid’s gloom.’”
“Ma’s out o’ hope — still snags ‘nother book — soprano voice ringin’ sweet to her womb — kid’s ears — few spits in — she’s done — quits lit — play solo — big kid yells — ‘I’m crashin’.’”
“He peels — eyes locked low — cold — ass — no extra spit — dog’s wailin’ grim — vibe’s off — night wind slippin’ jagged through window — crack — flickin’ bronze lamp’s flame — twin pink crystal caps — ma’s hands hit brow — pops scopes sky — young’uns shoot wild — ass peeps at old sea — dog, reckon.”
“Mervyn bolts his spot — double — lock — hand flyin’ on paper — ‘Got your note noon — forgive me keepin’ you hangin’ — ain’t got the rep o’ knowin’ you straight — wasn’t sure ‘bout writin’ — but rude ain’t our crib’s style — grabbed pen — props deep for carin’ ‘bout a stranger — God keep me from skippin’ your kindness — I clock my flaws — ain’t flexin’ — if it’s cool takin’ an old — ass bond — it’s cool spittin’ our vibes don’t match — you sound grown — callin’ me young cat — still doubtin’ your real ticks — how you square cold — ass logic with that heat spillin’? No way I’m ditchin’ my born — spot for far — ass runs with you — need pops — ma’s green — light first — long wait — but you hushin’ this dark — ass twist — cube — deep — I’m quick bowin’ to your tight — ass smarts — seems it ain’t facin’ light glad — you want my trust (ain’t off — I vibe sayin’) — match it back — don’t reckon I’m so far off your wave — day — after — next — five bells — I ain’t missin’ — I’ll scale park wall — gate’s locked — no cat clockin’ me bounce — real spit — what I ain’t doin’ for you — your wild — ass tie flashin’ quick to my shook — ass eyes — stunned most by that uncalled — ass grace? Ain’t know you — now I do — don’t blank your vow strollin’ Carrousel bridge — I roll there — got a lock — tight hunch I’m catchin’ you — grippin’ your mitt — ‘less this clean — ass move from a kid — yesterday kneelin’ at shy — ass altars — hits you wrong with chill — ass ease — ain’t ease fair in deep — ass — hot ties when crashin’s real — sold? What’s the harm — I’m askin’ you — droppin’ peace passin’ — rain or not — when five hits day — after — next? You clock — gent — how slick I shaped this spit — ain’t spillin’ more on a stray sheet — your spot at bottom’s a damn riddle — took me near fifteen to crack — smart keepin’ it micro — I’m skippin’ sign — ridin’ your play — we in wild — ass times — ain’t blinkin’ at what’s comin’ — wanna know how you sniffed my cold — ass still — ringed by empty — ass halls — rank tombs o’ my dull ticks — how to spit it? Thinkin’ you — my chest bangs — loud — ass fall o’ some broke — ass empire — your love’s shade hints a grin — might not be — too vague — scales twistin’ mad — ass crooked — I’m droppin’ my wild — ass feels in your mitts — fresh marble slabs — clean off death’s grip — hold tight ‘til dawn’s first flick — waitin’ that tick tossin’ me in your rank — ass arm — weave — I’m bowin’ low — clutchin’ your knees,’ fam.”
“After scribblin’ that guilty — ass note — Mervyn drops it postal — slips back to crash — don’t bank on his angel — guard there — fish — tail flaps three days — true — but damn — beam’s still toast — cone — bullet rippin’ rhino hide — ‘spite snow — chick and beggar — crowned fool’s spillin’ real on them fourteen blades’ faith, bruv.”
Drop 6
Joint 4 — IV
“Man, I’m clockin’ I got one damn eye — dead — ass center o’ my dome, fam! Them silver mirrors — stuck up in hall — panels — how many props they dropped me with that bounce — back vibe, bruv? Since that day some angora cat chewed my head — hump an hour — drill — ass bitin’ through skull — jumpin’ my back wild ‘cause I cooked its kits in an alcohol vat — I been slingin’ pain — ass darts at myself non — stop, ye ken.”
“Now — feelin’ them cuts my frame’s took — some from birth’s fucked — up deal — some my own mess — weighed by my soul’s crash (few plays done — who’s callin’ next?) — chill watchin’ them freak — ass marks — born or built — deckin’ my sinews and head — I’m scopin’ long — ass — pleased at this split makin’ me — and I’m lookin’ fly, reckon!”
“Fly like that born — broke vibe in a man’s junk — short — ass piss — pipe — split or missin’ bottom wall — gapin’ wild from tip to shaft — or that meat — knob — cone — style — deep — cut wrinkles — stickin’ off a turkey’s top beak — base — nah — more like this spit:”
“‘Scales — modes — they harmonic hook — ain’t sittin’ on stone — cold nature rules — nah — it’s them beauty — ass codes shiftin’ with man — kind’s slow grind — and they’ll keep shiftin’ —’”
“‘Specially like a turret — decked iron — ship, mate!’”
“Yeah — I’m holdin’ my spit’s real — no puffed — ass dreams — I flex that — lyin’ ain’t payin’ me — so what I dropped — don’t sleep on believin’ it — why’d I spook myself ‘fore my gut’s droppin’ props, fam?”
“Ain’t jealous o’ the Creator — none — but let him cut me loose down my fate’s stream — stackin’ wild — ass crimes — or — liftin’ a mad — ass glare eye — high his way — I’ll school him he ain’t lone — ass king o’ this game — mad — ass quirks — tied deep to nature’s know — how — back the flip vibe — smack a hard — ass ‘no’ on one — power’s grip, bruv.”
“‘Cause it’s two o’ us scopin’ lid — lashes — you feel — you clock my lipless trap’s blared victory’s horn mad — ass times — peace — fly — ass fighter — your grit in dirt’s got your worst foe givin’ props — but Maldoror’s trackin’ you quick to snatch that Mervyn prey, reckon.”
“So that cock’s word’ll hit — when it peeped what’s next in that candle — stick’s gut — sky — high hope that crab — claw catches them pilgrim — cats in time — drops Clignancourt rag — man’s tale in quick — ass spit, fam!”
Drop 7
Joint 5 — V
“Man, ‘cross from Palais-Royal — left — side bench near the pond — some cat rolls up from Rue de Rivoli — parks it — hair all fucked — ass wild — gear showin’ that long — ass broke — grind bite, fam. He’s diggin’ a dirt — hole with a sharp — ass stick — fills his mitt’s dip with soil — shoves that meal mouth — way — spits it quick, bruv.”
“He’s up — slammin’ his dome ‘gainst the bench — legs kickin’ sky — high — but that tight — rope shit’s buckin’ gravity’s hold on balance — flops back hard on the plank — arms danglin’ — cap half — maskin’ his mug — legs thrashin’ gravel — wobbly — ass — less — chill by the tick — he’s locked there mad long, ye ken.”
“Near north gate — by that café — rotunda — our king’s arm’s leanin’ grill — side — peepers scopin’ the whole rectangle — missin’ no cut — eyes loop back post — sweep — clockin’ mid — garden a cat pullin’ shaky — ass stunts with a bench — grindin’ to steady — flexin’ wild — ass strength and moves — but what’s top — ass heart do for a straight cause ‘gainst mad — head sway, reckon?”
“He steps to the nut — hooks him up chill — settin’ his pride straight — drops a mitt — parks next — clocks that crazy’s off — on — fit’s ghosted — cat’s spittin’ straight to every ask — gotta lay his words’ drift? Why flip that man — woes tome random — ass — wild — rush? Nothin’ schools deeper, mate.”
“Even if I ain’t got real — ass plays to spit — I’d cook dream — joints — pour ‘em in your dome — but this sick cat ain’t flipped for kicks — his tale’s truth vibes tight with your trust, fam.”
“‘Pops was a wood — cutter on Rue de la Verrerie — let them three Marguerite deaths crash his dome — canary beak chew his eyeball — core forever — he took to boozin’ — them spells — stumblin’ crib — side post — tavern runs — rage hittin’ damn near endless — smashin’ blind at whatever popped — soon — homies’ shade flipped him straight — got all hush — ass — no cat nearin’ — not ma — nursin’ some deep — ass beef ‘gainst duty lockin’ his wild — I copped a canary for my three sis — all theirs — they caged it door — top — cats passin’ froze each time — vibin’ its tune — scopin’ its quick — ass grace — tracin’ its slick shape — pops dropped word mad times — ditch cage and bird — thinkin’ that canary’s clownin’ him with them sky — high riffs — went yankin’ it off the nail — slipped chair — ass — rage — blind — light knee — scrape his prize — pressed that swell with a wood — chip a tick — tugged trousers down — brows tight — scoped better — tucked cage underarm — rolled shop — deep — ‘spite fam’s yells — begs (we held that bird — crib’s soul) — stomped that wicker box with iron kicks — plane spinnin’ ‘round his dome keepin’ us back — luck left canary breathin’ — feather — puff still kickin’ — blood — streaked — cutter peeled — slammed door — ma and me grindin’ to hold its life — slippin’ — nearin’ end — wings’ twitch just death’s last mirror — them three Marguerite — clockin’ hope’s ghost — gripped mitts — live — ass chain — squatted post — pushin’ a grease — barrel ‘side — stair — back by our bitch’s kennel — ma ain’t quittin’ — warmin’ canary ‘tween fingers with breath — me — dashin’ wild — every room — crashin’ gear — tools — sis poppin’ head stair — low now — then — checkin’ bird’s fate — pullin’ back glum — bitch left kennel — like she clocked our loss — lickin’ them three Marguerite’s fits with dry — ass comfort — canary’s ticks droppin’ — lil’ sis — youngest — poked head in light’s fade — saw ma bleach — bird neck — lift flash — last nerve — spark — flop dead ‘tween her fingers — told her sis — no whines — whispers rustlin’ — hush lockin’ shop — just cage — bits snappin’ — wood’s bounce pullin’ ‘em half — back — them three Marguerite ain’t droppin’ tears — mugs holdin’ red — ass bloom — nah — just froze — dragged kennel — deep — stretched straw — side by side — bitch watchin’ they move — shook — ma called ‘em mad — no sound back — wore out from that hit — crashed — prolly — she scoped every nook — no peep — bitch tugged her fit kennel — side — she bent — peeped in — sight she caught — ‘side ma — fear’s wild stretch — gotta be grim — my head’s math — I lit a wick — handed it — no speck slipped — pulled her dome — straw — streaked — from that early pit — spit — ‘Them three Marguerite ghosted,’ fam.”
“‘Couldn’t yank ‘em out — clock this — tight — ass twined — grabbed hammer shop — side — smash that dog — crib — jumped demo — quick — cats passin’ might’ve vibed — if they got head — work’s poppin’ at ours — ma — pissed at delays — tho they locked — clawin’ planks — nails snappin’ — ‘ventually that bleak freein’ wrapped — kennel split wide — yanked ‘em — one — by — one — tough untanglin’ — carpenter’s girls — ma bounced land — ain’t clocked pops since — me — they tag mad — beggin’ street — juice — know canary ain’t singin’ no more,’ bruv.”
“Ear — cat nods inside — fresh — ass proof stackin’ his rank — ass theories — like one drunk cat’s callin’ all man — kind trash — least that’s the wild — ass twist he’s tryna plant — can’t shake them deep — ass lessons tho, reckon.”
“He chills madman with fake — ass soft — wipes tears with his own rag — rolls him diner — side — grubbin’ same table — hits a slick tailor — ward’s decked prince — style — knocks big — ass crib porter Rue Saint-Honoré — madman’s parked plush third — floor spot — rogue shoves his stack on him — snags chamber pot bed — low — crowns Aghone’s dome — ‘I’m namin’ you king o’ smarts,’ he yells — planned — ass loud — ‘call — I’m there — dip my chests — body — soul — I’m yours — night — stash that white — ass crown back — use it free — day — dawn hittin’ blocks — rock it brow — side — your juice’s mark — them three Marguerite live ‘gain in me — plus I’m your ma,’ mate.”
“Then madman staggers back — steps — like he’s caught in some clown — ass bad — dream — joy — lines hittin’ his grief — cut mug — kneels — shamed — at his plug’s kicks — props seepin’ — poison — style — in that crowned fool’s ticker — tryna spit — tongue stalls — lurches — flops tiles, fam.”
“Bronze — lip cat peels — what’s his play? Snag a ride — or — die — green ‘nuff to jump his every call — couldn’t hit better — luck’s tippin’ him — bench — cat — since young — days hit — can’t split good from dirt — Aghone’s his man, bruv.”
Drop 8
Joint 6 — VI
“Man, the Big — Ass Boss dropped one o’ his sky — cats on this dirt — ball to yank the kid from a sure — ass grave — he’s gotta roll down his damn self — we ain’t hit that twist in our spit yet — I’m clampin’ my trap — can’t spill all this juice at once — each slick — ass play’s droppin’ its spot when this yarn’s weave don’t buck, fam.”
“To dodge eyes — sky — cat flipped to an edible crab — big — ass vicuña — size — posted on a reef’s edge — sea — deep — holdin’ for tide’s sweet tick to slide shore — side — cat with jasper lips — stashed back o’ beach — curve — scopin’ the beast — stick in mitt — who’s tryna crack them two heads, bruv?”
“First cat ain’t hidin’ his gig’s a beast — ‘How I’m pullin’ this,’ he yells — waves smackin’ his quick — ass perch — ‘where my boss’s juice and grit tanked mad — ass times? I’m just a boxed — in speck — other cat? No one clocks his roots or end — game — his tag shakes sky — crews — up where I bounced — cats spit Satan — evil’s own — ain’t that grim,’ ye ken.”
“Second cat’s chewin’ this — vibes bouncin’ — stainin’ that blue — ass dome up top — ‘He’s green — ass — I’m squarin’ him quick — prolly dropped from high by that punk too shook to step — we’ll clock his flex in the clash — ain’t no earth — fruit cat — them shaky — ass — roamin’ eyes screamin’ sky — born,’ reckon.”
“Crab — been scopin’ a coast — strip — clocks our king (he rears full — Herc — ass height) — hits him with this spit — ‘Don’t swing — give — I’m sent by one over us both — chain you up — lock them thought — twin hands from twitchin’ — grippin’ blades — daggers ‘tween your fingers? That’s off — limits now — trust — your good — others’ too — dead or kickin’ — you’re mine — orders say live — don’t push me tappin’ this borrowed juice — I’m rollin’ light — you don’t buck — that’s how I’ll vibe quick — glad — you steppin’ first to flip your dirt,’ mate.”
“When our king catches this rap — drippin’ mad — ass funny — he’s fightin’ keepin’ straight on his rough — ass — sun — cooked mug — but who’s blinkin’ if I spit he busts laughin’? Couldn’t hold it — no shade meant — ain’t tryna catch crab’s heat — mad — ass grind killin’ that chuckle — lips mashed tight — dodgin’ dissin’ his stunned — ass foe — too bad his vibe’s man — kind’s cut — laughin’ sheep — style — finally quits — damn time — near choked, fam!”
“Wind hauls this hit to reef’s sky — cat — ‘When your boss quits slingin’ snails — crawfish fixin’ his mess — steps up talkin’ me straight — we’ll square — I’m sure — I’m under your sender — you spit that real — ‘til then — truce talk’s green — ass — cookin’ dream — flops — I ain’t blind to your spit’s sense — we’d wear our throats three — kilo yells — you’d roll smart swimmin’ down your untouchable fort — hit dirt — we’d chop surrender terms — fair — still sour — ass look for me,’ bruv.”
“Sky — cat — ain’t bankin’ that chill — pops head notch from crevice — spits — ‘Maldoror — day finally hit where your rank — ass urges douse that dumb — pride torch draggin’ you to forever — doom? I’m first singin’ this flip to cherub — crews — hyped snatchin’ one back — you clock — ain’t blanked — time you held top spot with us — your tag flew mouth — to — mouth — now our lone — ass chats’ meat — roll — make peace tight with your old boss — he’ll catch you like stray — ass kin — blind to that fat guilt — stack — elk — horn — high Indian — style — piled on your ticker,’ reckon.”
“He spits — hauls all his bits from dark — ass gap — shines — blazin’ — reef — top — like some faith — cat sure he’s nabbin’ lost sheep — set to leap water — side — swim to the pardoned — but sapphire — lip cat’s been schemin’ slick — stick flies hard — skippin’ waves — cracks good — ass sky — cat’s dome — crab — dead — hit — flops sea — tide drags floatin’ wreck shore — side, fam.”
“He’s holdin’ for tide to ease his drop — tide rolls — rocks him with tunes — lays him soft beach — side — crab ain’t good? What’s more? Maldoror — bent over shore — sand — grabs two homies — wave — tied tight — crab’s stiff and killer stick, bruv!”
“‘Ain’t lost my touch,’ he yells — ‘itchin’ flex — arm’s still got juice — eye’s on lock’ — scopes dead — ass beast — shook blood’s bill’s comin’ — where’s he stashin’ sky — cat? Same tick — clockin’ if death hit quick — slings anvil — corpse on back — rolls to fat — ass pond — banks thick — ass — walled with wild — ass reeds, mate.”
“First vibed hammer — too light — heavy — ass load — corpse twitchin’ — drop it — dust it with anvil smacks — arm ain’t lackin’ grit — least worry — nears lake — clocks swan — squad — vibes safe hide — shifts — holdin’ haul — blends with bird — crew — peep sky — boss’s mitt where you’d swear it’s ghost — soak this wild — ass play — black — ass crow — wing — thrice swam ‘mongst blazin’ — white web — feet — thrice kept coal — block vibe — ‘cause God — justice — wise — ain’t lettin’ his trick fool swan — cats, reckon.”
“So he’s loud — ass lake — center — all dodge — no bird rollin’ near his shamed — ass plumes — then pins dips to lone bay — pond’s end — solo ‘mongst sky — squad — like man — kind — that’s his warm — up for Vendôme’s wild — ass hit, fam!”
Drop 9
Joint 7 — VII
“Man, that gold — lock pirate snagged Mervyn’s hit — back — this wild — ass page tracks the kid’s head — mess — left to his own weak — ass nudge, fam. He’d’ve smashed better spillin’ to his folks ‘fore vibin’ with some ghost — cat’s bond — ain’t no juice comin’ from starrin’ in this shady — ass play — but yo — he picked it, bruv.”
“Set tick — Mervyn bolts crib — door — cuts straight down Boulevard Sébastopol — hits Saint-Michel fountain — rolls Quai des Grands-Augustins — crosses Quai Conti — passin’ Quai Malaquais — he clocks some cat on Quai du Louvre — steppin’ parallel — sack underarm — scopin’ him hard — mornin’ fog’s ghosted — both cats spill Carrousel bridge ends same — ass time, ye ken.”
“Never locked eyes — they still clocked each other — real shit — touchin’ seein’ them two — years apart — stitchin’ souls with big — ass vibes — least — cats pausin’ this scene’d vibe that — even math — heads catchin’ feels — Mervyn — mug soaked — thinkin’ he’s nabbed — life’s gate — a rare — ass prop for comin’ dirt — trust — other cat’s hush, reckon.”
“Here’s his move — flips sack wide — yanks mouth open — snags kid by dome — shoves whole frame in canvas trap — knots top with hanky — Mervyn screamin’ sharp — he rips sack off — laundry — bundle style — smacks bridge — rail mad — ass times — kid clocks bones crackin’ — zips it, mate.”
“Wild — ass scene — no scribbler toppin’ — butcher rolls by — parked on his meat — cart — cat runs up — begs halt — spits — ‘Dog in this sack — got mange — kill it quick’ — dude’s cool with it — cat peel — off — clocks ragged chick stretchin’ mitt — how far this bold — ass — god — spit stretch? Drops her coin, fam!”
“Tell me — wanna roll hours later — back — ass slaughterhouse gate? Butcher’s back — dumps load ground — side — tells squad — ‘Hurry — kill this mangy mutt’ — four cats grip reg hammers — still stallin’ — sack thrashin’ hard, bruv.”
“‘What’s grippin’ me?’ one yells — arm droppin’ slow.”
“‘Dog whinin’ kid — style,’ ‘nother spits — ‘like it knows what’s up.’”
“‘That’s they play,’ third chimes — ‘even clean — like here — master dips few days — they howl — ass off — tough to ride.’”
“‘Hold — hold!’ fourth shouts — ‘fore arms sync — smashin’ sack hard this tick — ‘Hold — somethin’s off — who’s sayin’ this sack’s dog? I’m checkin’.’”
“He unties — ‘spite crew’s clownin’ — pulls Mervyn’s limbs — one — by — one — kid near choked in that tight — ass knot — blacks out seein’ light — ticks later — shows real — ass life — saver spits — ‘Next time — lace caution in your grind — damn near clocked ignorin’ that rule’s trash,’ reckon.”
“Butchers jet — Mervyn — ticker tight — dark — ass vibes — rolls crib — locks spot — gotta push this drop? Who ain’t mournin’ this done dirt — wait end — hit harder call, mate.”
“Close crashin’ quick — these joints — some vibe — whatever — once lit — ain’t scared o’ no block — cuttin’ its lane — no need stretchin’ shellac ‘cross four hundo weak — ass pages — half — dozen drops say it — then hush, fam.”
Drop 10
Joint 8 — VIII
“Man, to rig a sleep — ass tale’s head on lock — ain’t ‘nuff just choppin’ dumb — ass shit — hittin’ reader’s smarts with fresh — ass doses ‘til they’re froze for life — locked stiff by that sure — ass tired rule, fam — gotta lace it with slick — ass magnet juice — pin ‘em sleepwalker — tight — forcin’ they peepers dim ‘gainst they vibe under your hard — ass stare, bruv.”
“I’m spittin’ — not clearin’ shit up — just stretchin’ my head — vibe — grabs and grinds same — ass tick with that sharp — ass tune — I ain’t vibin’ you need — to hit your mark — some wild — ass poetry ditchin’ nature’s reg — step — its rank gusts fuckin’ up even stone — cold truth — but pullin’ that play — square with them beauty — ass codes if you clock it right — ain’t light as cats reckon — that’s my spit — I’m grindin’ all — out to nail it, ye ken.”
“If death snags them skinny — ass long arms off my shoulders — smashin’ my grim — ass word — rock — least I want mourner — cats sayin’ — ‘Gotta give him props — he dulled me mad — ass deep — what he’d’ve cooked with more ticks — slickest hypnotism plug I clock!’ — carve them soft — ass words my tomb — slab — my shades’ll chill — I’m rollin’ on, reckon!”
“Fish — tail twitchin’ hole — bottom — beat — ass boot ‘side — ain’t natural askin’ — ‘Where’s fish? Just tail wigglin’.’ — if you own missin’ fish — it ain’t there — rain dropped some wet in that sand — funnel — beat boot? Some vibed later it’s tossed — ass ditch, mate.”
“Crab — claw — sky — juice pullin’ — gotta rise from split — ass bits — yanks fish — tail from pit — vows stitch it back to lost frame if it snitches to Big — Boss his cat can’t tame Maldoror’s wild — ass sea — hooks two albatross wings — tail jets — but flies renegade — crib — spillin’ tea — stabbin’ crab — claw back, fam.”
“Crab sniffs spy’s play — ‘fore third day’s tapped — nails fish — tail with poison — ass dart — traitor’s throat croaks weak — last — ass gasp ‘fore dirt — then old — ass beam — castle — peak — jumps full — height — yellin’ payback loud — Big — Boss flips rhino — spits death’s earned — beam chills — sinks manor — deep — lays flat — calls spooked spiders spin webs corner — side like old — ass days, bruv.”
“Sulfur — lip cat clocks his plug’s flop — orders crowned fool torch beam — ash it — Aghone hits that hard — ass call — ‘Since you vibe it’s time,’ he yells — ‘dug that ring I stashed stone — under — tied it cable — end — here’s pack’ — drops thick — ass rope — coiled tight — sixty meters — boss hits — ‘Fourteen blades up to?’ — ‘They hold true — ready any — ass tick — need be,’ he spits — con nods — hyped, reckon.”
“He’s shook — damn near stressed — when Aghone drops he clocked rooster split candelabra beak — ass — scopes each half — yells — wingin’ wild — ‘Ain’t far as cats vibe — Rue de la Paix to Panthéon Place — soon proof’s droppin’ grim!’ mate.”
“Crab — claw — hot — ass horse — bolts full — tilt reef — way — stick — launch spot by tattoo — arm — first — day earth — crib — pilgrim crew marchin’ hit that block — sacred now by big — ass death — hopin’ catch ‘em — beg quick — ass aid ‘gainst brewin’ trap he sniffed, fam.”
“You’ll peep — lines down — my ice — ass hush — he ain’t hit in time — spill what ragman — stashed ‘hind build — site scaffold — clocked — day Carrousel bridge — night — dew wet — caught dread — head — scope spinnin’ wild — ass rings — dawn knead o’ that twenty — face sack on its chalk rail — ‘fore he tugs they soft spot with that play’s echo — they’d best kill hope’s seed, bruv!”
“Snap your slack — flex good — ass grind — roll ‘side me — don’t lose this fool — night — pot crowned — pushin’ stick — arm front — cat you’d strain clockin’ if I ain’t warnin’ — hittin’ your ear with ‘Mervyn’ — damn — he’s flipped — mitts tied back — steppin’ gallows — style — tho he ain’t done dirt, reckon.”
“They hit Place Vendôme’s round — ass rim — column ledge — fifty — plus meters up — cat leanin’ square rail — drops — uncoils cable — lands steps from Aghone — practice makes quick — dude ain’t waste ticks tyin’ Mervyn’s kicks rope — end — rhino sniffed what’s poppin’ — sweat — soaked — staggers Rue Castiglione corner — ain’t cop fight’s thrill — column cat scopes ‘round — cocks piece — aims tight — pops — commodore — street — beggin’ since vibin’ son’s mad — and ma — snow — chick tagged for stark — ass white — throw chests shieldin’ rhino — waste — bullet drills hide — auger — style — logic vibes death’s lock — we clocked Big — Boss juice in that thick — skin — peels sad, mate.”
“Ain’t stone — cold he’s too soft one cat — I’d feel for column — dude — sharp wrist — flick hauls weighted rope — strung wild — swings Mervyn — dome down — snags quick with mitts long — ass immortelle chain — linkin’ base corners — jams brow ‘gainst — lifts sky — side — ain’t fixed — post stackin’ cable foot — side — ellipse — pile — leavin’ Mervyn danglin’ half bronze — spike — con twists kid’s spin right — mitt — steady whirl — flat column — core — left scoopin’ snake — ass rope coils floor — side — sling hisses air — Mervyn’s frame trails — centrifugal kick keepin’ him core — far — holdin’ mobile — even — ass ring — air — free o’ dirt — wild — ass civ cat eases — bit — far end — grips tight palm — steel — bar fake — runnin’ rail — ‘round — one mitt grippin’ — flips rope’s first spin — plane — jacks strain — now wheels grand flat — post slidin’ slant — planes slow — right angle column — plant — thread — sides match — renegade’s arm — kill — tool melt one — ass line — light — bits hittin’ dark — box — mech — ass rules let me spit — damn — force plus force birth sum o’ both — who’s claimin’ rope ain’t snapped ‘cept cat’s grit — hemp’s juice, fam?”
“Gold — lock pirate — quick — ass — kills speed — drops mitt — lets cable fly — jolt bucks rail — seams — Mervyn — rope tail — apes comet draggin’ fire — noose’s iron ring — sun — glintin’ — begs you fill dream — gap — parabola arc — death — marked cuts air — past left bank — overshoots — push — vibe I’m callin’ endless — frame smacks Panthéon dome — rope coils clutch top — ass curve — that round — ass — bulged face — orange — style shape — any tick — dried — ass bones hang — wind rocks — Latin Quarter cats — shook same fate — drop quick prayer — weak — ass buzz you ain’t gotta buy — just spookin’ lil’ punks — grips tight mitts — wide old — ass yellow bloom — ribbon — clock range — no cat swearin’ — ‘spite sharp peepers — them immortelles I spit — ripped grand perch — uneven scrap near new Opéra — still real — moon — drape vibes there ain’t holdin’ four — fold lock — check it — don’t trust me, bruv!”