The Hood Chants of Maldoror (AAVE Street Vibes)
Bar 5: The Wild Note Trap
Drop 1
Even with that wild — ass spin — starlings still cut air fast as fuck — nabbin’ ground every tick — chasin’ the end o’ they grind and they trek’s prize, fam. You too — don’t sweat how I’m singin’ these drops all weird — trust — poetry’s raw notes still got they grip on my head, bruv. Ain’t tryna blow up rare — ass cases — my flow fits what’s real — no cap. Bet — ‘tween your lit — ends how you clock it — and mine — there’s a stack o’ mid — shades — splittin’ ‘em’s light work — but ain’t no point — risks makin’ some tight — ass — off — vibe take on a deep — head game that quits makin’ sense when it ain’t caught big — ass how I see it, mate.
You mix hype with that inner chill — watchin’ cat with a locked — in temper — me — you flawless — but you won’t get me! If you feelin’ off — take my word (best I got for you) — roll out to the fields, fam. Weak trade — what you reckon? Air out — then bounce back — your senses chill — no more tears — ain’t tryna cut you — real talk — my homie — don’t my jams snag some o’ your vibe? What’s holdin’ you from climbin’ higher? Line ‘tween your taste and mine’s ghosted — you ain’t grabbin’ it — proof it ain’t even there, bruv. Chew on this (just skimmin’ here) — might be you locked a deal with that stubborn — ass chick — mule’s kid — flowin’ with mad shade, ye ken.
If I ain’t clocked you sharp — wouldn’t hit you with that — no need crustin’ up in some stiff — ass “truth” you think’s rock — solid — other truths hold firm too — ridin’ parallel with yours, fam. If caramel’s your jam (nature’s wild — ass prank) — ain’t no crime — but cats with sharper — bigger heads diggin’ pepper and poison got they reasons — no push to boss them shook — ass fools tremblin’ at a mouse or a cube’s loud — ass edges, reckon.
I spit from grind — ain’t playin’ no loud — mouth here, bruv — like rotifers and tardigrades take near — boil heat and still kick — you’ll roll same if you sip — slow — that raw — ass drip my sharp rants leak — ain’t cats stitched a rat’s chopped tail on a live one’s back? Try haulin’ my dead — ass reason’s flips in your head — but watch it — right now — fresh shakes hittin’ the mind — air — just takes guts to face ‘em square, mate.
Why you twistin’ your mug? Even throwin’ a move that needs mad — ass practice to ape — trust — habit’s king — since that gut — kick from page one’s eased off — deeper you roll — like a boil sliced — hope stays — tho your dome’s still off — cure’s hittin’ its last lap soon — no doubt — you’re cruisin’ recovery — but your mug’s still skint — damn — buck up! You got that rare — ass spark — I’m feelin’ you — ain’t losin’ hope for your full bounce — just down some fix — juice — speed off them last dirt — vibes, fam.
For a tight — ass — tonic bite — rip your ma’s arms off first (if she’s still kickin’) — chop ‘em small — chow ‘em one day — face blank — no flicker — if she’s too old — pick a fresher — younger cut — your sis maybe — scalpel’ll grip — her steppin’ bones flip easy — damn her luck — ain’t one o’ them cold — hype cats fakin’ heart — me and you — we’ll drop two heavy — ass tears for that loved chick (no proof she’s clean tho) — two lead drops — that’s it, bruv.
Softest brew I’d push — basin brimmin’ with thick — ass pus — nutty — stewed up with an ovary cyst — sore — chancre — hot — flipped foreskin — tight — ass snag — three red slugs — roll my script — my poetry’s arms wide — like a louse kissin’ a hair root clean, ye ken.
Drop 2
Man, I’m clockin’ this thing standin’ tall on a mound ‘fore me, fam. Can’t scope its dome clear — but I’m feelin’ it ain’t no regular shape — ain’t got the lines pinned tho, bruv. I’m shook to roll close to that still — ass pillar — even if I’m packin’ three thou’ crab legs for steppin’ (not them grab — or chew — joints neither) — I’d still be glued, ‘less some small — ass shit didn’t tax my nosy — vibe ‘til it bust wide, reckon. This beetle — pushin’ a ball with its jaws and feelers — all dung — packed — quick — steps it toward that mound — flexin’ hard like it’s locked on that path, mate. This leggy critter ain’t much bigger than a cow — no cap! Doubt my spit? Roll up — I’ll square the skeptics with solid — ass peeps, ye ken.
I’m tailin’ from way back — mad curious vibes — what’s it tryna do with that fat black ball? Yo, reader — you always flexin’ your sharp — ass brain (and you ain’t wrong) — you got this? Ain’t tryna grill your riddle — love too deep tho — just know the lightest hit I’m droppin’ is makin’ you clock this secret won’t crack (it will) ‘til you’re old — ass — kickin’ it with death bedside — choppin’ grim — ass thoughts — maybe even this drop’s end, fam.
Beetle hits the mound’s foot — I’m steppin’ its trail — still mad far from the scene spot — ‘cause like them skua birds — twitchy like they starvin’ — vibin’ polar seas — only strayin’ to chill zones by chance — I’m restless too — legs draggin’ slow as fuck, bruv. What’s this flesh I’m closin’ on? I know the pelican crew splits four — gannet — pelican — cormorant — frigate — that gray — ass shape ain’t no gannet — that solid lump ain’t no frigate — that crystal meat ain’t no cormorant, reckon.
Now I peep him — cat with a brain missin’ its ring — hump — diggin’ hazy in my head — folds for some hot — ass waste or ice — trap I’d clocked that long — ass — wide — vaulted beak — sharp — ridged — clawed — fat — hooked tip — jagged — straight edges — lower jaw split near the point — skin — flap gap — big — ass yellow throat — pouch stretchin’ wild — tight — slit nose — holes near ghosted — dug in a base groove, mate! If this lung — breather — hair — bodied cat was full — bird to his soles — not just shoulders — I’d’ve tagged him quick — easy — ass — you’ll see — but this time I’m skippin’ it — need one o’ them birds on my desk — even stuffed — for my spit to shine — ain’t got the cash for that, fam.
Runnin’ an old hunch — I’d’ve clocked his real deal fast — slotted him in nature’s book — this cat I’m diggin’ for his sick — ass pose — what a buzz knowin’ I ain’t full — blank on his double — vibe tricks — greedy — ass to dig deeper — scopin’ his long — haul switch! Ain’t got no man — face — still hit me fly as some bug’s twin — thread feelers — nah — more like a rushed — ass grave — or that law fixin’ broke — ass parts — ‘specially like some rank — ass drip — but he ain’t clockin’ shit ‘round — just starin’ ahead with that pelican dome, bruv!
Next day — I’ll wrap this tale’s tail — still — I’m pushin’ this spit with grim — ass rush — ‘cause if you’re itchin’ where my head’s rollin’ (hope to hell it’s just vibes!) — I’m locked to drop it all one — go — not two, ye ken! Ain’t no cat peggin’ me light on grit tho — but facin’ this scene — plenty feel they ticker bangin’ they palm, reckon.
Just kicked it — near ghosted — in some Brittany port — old — ass sailor — coast — master — hero o’ some dark — ass tale — back then cap’n on long — hauls for a Saint-Malo ship — cat — thirteen months out — hits his crib as his chick — still bedded — drops an heir he ain’t claimin’, mate. Cap’n masks his shook — ass rage — cool — ass tells her gear up — roll with him on the town walls — January — Saint-Malo’s ramparts tower high — north wind hittin’ — tough cats flinch — she rolls — chill — resigned — back home she’s ravin’ — clocks out that night — just a chick tho — me — man — facin’ no less — ain’t sure I held my mug steady ‘nuff, fam!
Beetle hits the mound’s base — cat lifts his arm west (right where a lamb vulture and Virginia owl scrapped sky — high) — wipes a long — ass tear — diamond — vibe glint — on his beak — spits at the beetle:
“Poor — ass ball — ain’t you rolled it long enough? Revenge still burnin’ — and that chick — you laced her legs and arms with pearl chains — shapin’ some blob — ass lump to drag with your claws ‘cross valleys — paths — thorns — rocks (let me close — check if it’s her!) — her bones gouged — limbs smoothed by spin — grind law — fused in clot — oneness — body ditchin’ first lines — curves for a dull — ass blur — too like a sphere’s mashed — up mix — she’s long ghosted — drop them scraps to dirt — watch your rage don’t blow past fixin’ — ain’t justice no more — selfishness hid in your brow — creepin’ up slow — ghost — style — liftin’ its shroud, bruv.”
Lamb vulture and Virginia owl — dragged close by they fight’s twists — roll in — beetle shakes at them shock — ass words — what’d be a light twitch elsewhere turns a loud — ass stamp o’ fury with no leash — scrapin’ back thighs fierce on wing — edges — shrill as fuck:
“Who you callin’ soft — ass, huh? You blanked some wild — ass old — day turns — memory’s slipped — my bro — this chick fucked us — you first — me next — reckon that dirt don’t (don’t!) fade quick — quick — your big — ass heart lets it slide — you know if — ‘spite her mashed — up bits — dough — ass paste (ain’t ‘bout if it’s wheel — grind or my heat that bulked her) — she’s still kickin’? Hush — let me cook my payback, fam.”
He kicks back his grind — ball rollin’ front — peels off — once he’s gone — pelican yells:
“That chick — her witch — ass juice — slapped me a web — head — flipped my bro to a beetle — maybe she’s earned worse than I spit, mate.”
Me — ain’t sure I ain’t dreamin’ — piecin’ from they chat them raw — ass beefs tyin’ that sky — scrap ‘tween lamb vulture and Virginia owl — fling my dome back like a hood — lungs flexin’ free — yell up:
“Y’all — quit your clash — both right — she pledged you love — fucked you both — you ain’t solo tho — stripped your man — shape too — playin’ cruel — ass games with your deep cuts — doubt me? She’s ghosted — beetle dropped a mark that sticks — ‘spite the first — fucked’s pity, bruv.”
They drop they beef — no more feather — flesh rips — smart move — Virginia owl — fly as a dog’s chase — curve scribble — dips to a wrecked convent’s cracks — lamb vulture — fly as chest — stall law in cats too big for they fuel — ghosts sky — high — pelican — his big — ass forgive hittin’ me hard — ain’t natural — takes back his mound — lighthouse chill — warnin’ man — sailors dodge dark witch — love — starin’ straight — beetle — fly as a drunk’s shaky mitts — fades horizon — side, fam.
Four more lives scratched from life’s book — I rip a whole muscle off my left arm — lost in my moves — shook — ass by this four — way dirt — me — thinkin’ it’s just dung — damn fool I am, reckon.
Drop 3
Man, that off — on crash o’ what a cat can do — whatever your head’s leanin’ to guess — these ain’t just words, fam. Least — not like the usual spit — raise a mitt — any cat thinkin’ it’s straight callin’ some cutter to peel ‘em live, bruv. Lift that dome with a grin — any fool tryna bare they chest to death’s slugs — my peepers’ll hunt them scar — tracks — ten fingers locked tight — feelin’ up that weirdo’s meat — checkin’ if brain — splash hit my silk — ass brow, reckon. Ain’t no cat — wild for that grind — walkin’ this whole game? I don’t know laughs — real talk — never caught that vibe myself — but ain’t it mad — ass dumb to spit my lips wouldn’t stretch if I clocked some cat swearin’ that fool’s out there, mate?
What no soul’d cop for they own run — landed on me — fucked — up draw — ain’t my frame swimmin’ in hurt’s lake — that’d slide — but my head’s dryin’ out — tight — ass — non — stop thinkin’ — screamin’ like swamp frogs when them greedy — ass flamingos and starved herons crash they reed — edge, ye ken. Blessed cat sleepin’ chill in a feather rack — ripped from an eider’s chest — not clockin’ they snitchin’ they self — thirty — plus years — still ain’t crashed, fam. Since that cursed — ass birth — day — I swore a deep — cut beef with sleep — planks — my call — don’t pin no cat — quick — ditch that weak — ass shade, bruv.
Peep this pale — ass crown on my dome? Tenacity laced it — bony — ass grip — while some hot — ass sap’s flowin’ my bones — molten — vibe rush — I ain’t crashin’, mate — every night — forcin’ my washed — out eye to lock stars through my window — glass — stick o’ wood wedgin’ my puffed lids — dawn hits — I’m same — frame straight — posted ‘gainst cold wall — plaster, reckon. Still — sometimes I dream — no dip in my sharp — ass me or free moves — know that nightmare lurkin’ shadow’s glow — fever pawin’ my mug with its stump — every rank beast flashin’ red claws — my will’s spinnin’ ‘em round — feedin’ its endless grind, fam.
Real — speck gettin’ back in its frail — ass snap — free will ain’t shy to spit — loud — ass clout — it don’t breed dull in its crew — sleeper’s less than a beast snipped yesterday, bruv — tho insomnia drags these muscles — cypress — stinkin’ — pit — deep — my head’s white crypt ain’t flingin’ its doors for the Creator’s peep, ye ken — some hush — ass — fly justice — arms wide — I’m leapin’ gut — style — tells me hunt this rank — ass curse non — stop — dread — ass foe o’ my reckless soul — lantern — lit coast — hour — I ban my broke loins from hittin’ dew — grass — winner — kickin’ off that sly poppy’s traps, reckon.
So it’s straight — this wild — ass scrap’s walled my ticker’s plans — starved cat chewin’ itself — tight like giants — I’m livin’ eyes peeled wide — least by day — any cat can throw a solid block ‘gainst that Big Out — Thing (who knows its tag?) — will’s holdin’ its own with mad grit then, mate — but soon as night’s haze drops — even on them set to swing — oh — your head in some outsider’s dirty mitts — sharp — ass blade slicin’ its thick brush — conscience coughin’ a long — ass curse — its shield’s takin’ raw rips — shame — gate’s wide for that Sky — Thug’s wild poke, fam.
Ain’t earned this rank — ass grind — you — nasty — ass spy o’ my why — if I’m me — I ain’t no other — won’t roll that blurry — ass split in my skin — wanna chill solo in my deep — head chat — me or nothin’ — or flip me hippo — sink dirt — deep — nameless — ass mark — don’t pop ‘fore my shook — ass heat — me and the Creator — too much for one dome, bruv.
Night blackin’ the hours — who ain’t scrapped sleep’s pull — sweat — soaked rack? That bed — tuggin’ dyin’ juice to its chest — just a pine — board tomb — will’s slippin’ slow — facin’ some ghost — ass grip — sticky — ass tar clogs your eye — glass — lids link like old — ass mates — frame’s a breathin’ stiff — four fat stakes nail every limb to the pad — peep this — sheets just shrouds — incense — pot for faith’s burn — eternity roarin’ — far — off sea — stompin’ close — crib’s ghosted — bow low — cats — death — room blaze, reckon.
Sometimes — pushin’ vain to beat body’s dirt — mid thick — ass sleep — that magnet — vibe clocks it’s a tomb — slab — still spittin’ sharp on slick — ass finesse:
“Bouncin’ this rack’s a knot trickier than you’d clock — posted on the cart — they drag me to the guillotine’s twin sticks — wild — ass twist — my dead arm’s copped a stump’s stiff — ass game — grim dreamin’ you’re scaffold — bound, fam.”
Blood gushes fat ‘cross the mug — chest jumpin’ — wheezin’ swells — obelisk — weight chokin’ rage’s stretch — real shit smashed sleep’s fog — who don’t know — when the scrap drags ‘tween proud — ass me and catalepsy’s wild grip — crazed head loses hold? chewed by despair — it vibes its dirt ‘til it’s tamed nature — sleep — prey slippin’ — jets — wing — ticked and shamed — far from its ticker, mate.
Drop some ash on my lit — ass socket — don’t scope my eye that won’t shut — catch the grind I’m takin’ (still — pride’s cool)? Night pushin’ cats to chill — one cat I know — big — steppin’ fields — dread my grit bucklin’ to old — ass hits — let that cursed day roll when I crash — wake — my blade slicin’ neck — provin’ nothin’ was more real — straight — up, bruv.
Drop 4
“Man, who — who the fuck’s creepin’ here — slick — ass plotter — draggin’ they coils at my black chest, fam? Whoever you are — wild — ass python — what’s your lame — ass excuse for this clown show? Some fat guilt eatin’ you up? ‘Cause — check it — boa — your raw — ass shine ain’t got — I’m bettin’ — the balls to dodge me matchin’ it to a crook’s mug, bruv. That foamy — white drip’s screamin’ rage to me — clock this: you know your peeper ain’t sippin’ no sky — glow? Don’t blank — if your puffed — up head thought I’d toss you soft — ass words — it’s ‘cause you’re runnin’ blind on face — readin’ game — straight — up — been a minute — flick them eye — beams at what I’m callin’ — like any cat — my face, ye ken! Ain’t you seein’ it cry? You fucked up — snake — gotta hunt elsewhere for that weak — ass crumb o’ chill my dead — end juice can’t spare — ‘spite my good — vibe yells — oh — what word — ass pull yanked you to your doom? Damn near can’t vibe you don’t clock me smashin’ your twistin’ triangle dome — one heel — stomp on red turf — mixin’ some rank — ass paste o’ savanna grass and crushed meat, reckon.”
“Bounce quick from my sight — pale — ass guilty cat — fear’s fake — ass flash showed you your own ghost — drop them dirty — ass doubts ‘fore I flip it — hit you with a charge that snake — eatin’ hawk’d back clean — what wild — ass head — twist’s blockin’ you from me, mate? You blankin’ them big — ass plays I hooked you — life I snatched from chaos — and your vow — locked deep — never ditch my flag — stay true ‘til the end? Kid — days (your smarts peakin’ fly) — you’d bolt hill — top first — ibex — quick — wavin’ that lil’ mitt at dawn’s rainbow — blast — voice droppin’ diamond — vibe notes — loud — ass throat — meltin’ into one long — ass praise — jam — now you kick my long — ass chill to your kicks — mud — soaked rag — gratitude’s roots dried like a pond’s dead bed — but ambition’s blown up — shit I’d hate to tag — who’s this earin’ me — flexin’ so hard on they frail — ass flex, fam?”
“And who you — bold — ass speck? Nah — nah — ain’t off — ‘spite your shape — switch hustle — that snake dome’s blazin’ my peepers — beacon o’ forever — wrong and raw — ass rule, bruv! He craved them boss — reins — can’t run shit — aimed to spook all creation — nailed it — tried provin’ he’s the lone — ass king o’ the game — fucked up there — wretch — you held out ‘til now to clock them whispers and plots risin’ — all — at — once from every sphere — wild — ass wings grazin’ your brittle ear — rim? Day’s close — my mitt’ll drop you in dust — your breath’s poison — rip that rank life from your guts — leave your twisted — ass stiff on the path — schoolin’ shook travelers this pulsin’ meat — hittin’ they eyes dumb — lockin’ they tongue — cool heads ain’t matchin’ to more than a rotted oak — chopped by time, reckon!”
“What soft — ass pity’s holdin’ me ‘fore you? Nah — you back off — I’m spittin’ — wash that endless — ass shame in a fresh — born’s blood — your vibe — fits you — roll — keep steppin’ — I’m damnin’ you to roam — damnin’ you solo — no kin — trek ‘til your legs quit — cross desert sands ‘til world’s end swallows stars to nothin’, mate — pass a tiger’s den — it’ll jet — dodgin’ its own bent mirrored in your peak — ass dirt, ye ken.”
“But when heavy — ass grind tells you halt ‘fore my palace slabs — choked with thorns and spikes — watch them busted — ass kicks — tiptoe them fly — ass halls — ain’t no throwaway tip, bruv — might wake my young chick and lil’ man — bedded in lead pits ‘long the old keep’s roots — no prep — they underground yells’d bleach you — when your steel will snatched they breath — they clocked your juice was fierce — no doubt — but ain’t dreamt (they last peace — outs swore it) your sky — game’d hit that ruthless, fam.”
“Still — roll quick through them ghosted — hush halls — emerald — decked but crests faded — where my old — blood’s proud stones chill — them marble husks mad at you — dodge they glass — ass stares — last kin’s tongue tippin’ you — peep they mitts up — bold — ass guard — domes flung back proud — they sniffed the dirt you dropped me — step near them ice — cold stands holdin’ them carved blocks — payback’s waitin’, reckon.”
“You got spit to throw back — drop it — too late for tears now — should’ve cried when the clock was right — eyes clear — judge your moves’ toll your damn self — peace — I’m out — catchin’ cliff breeze — my half — choked lungs screamin’ for a chill — ass — clean sight over you, bruv!”
Drop 5
Man, y’all wild — ass cats — I ain’t the one slingin’ shade at your deep — ass fall — ain’t me droppin’ scorn on that funnel — vibe backdoor, fam. Enough them nasty — near — broke diseases hittin’ you carry they own payback — straight — up, bruv. Y’all lawmakers with dumb — ass rules — tight — ass moral cooks — step off — I’m a fair — ass soul, no cap. And you — young cats — nah — more like young chicks — break it down — how and why (keep it chill tho — stay back — I can’t tame my heat neither) — revenge sparked up in your chests — lacin’ mankind’s side with them raw — ass cuts? Y’all got it blushin’ at its own crew with your moves — me — I’m vibin’ hard on it — your hustle — open to any cat rollin’ up — twistin’ the sharpest thinkers’ heads — while your wild — ass feels top off even chicks’ shock — you less grounded than your squad — or more? Got some sixth — ass sense we missin’? Don’t flex fake — spit what’s real — ain’t askin’ tho — been scopin’ your fly — ass minds’ shine — I know the deal, reckon.
Left hand blessin’ — right hand sanctifyin’ — angels ridin’ my all — out love, fam — kissin’ your mug — your chest — my soft — ass lips hittin’ every spot o’ your sweet — vibe frame — why ain’t you dropped straight — up what you are — pure — ass drops o’ top — tier soul? Had to clock them endless stashes o’ soft and clean locked in your heavy — ass ticker’s beats — chest laced with rose and vetiver chains — had to split them thighs to know you — mouth hangin’ on your shy — ass tags — but (big — ass note) — don’t skip scrubbin’ them parts daily with hot water — or them dirty sores’ll pop on my greedy — ass lip — cracks, mate.
Oh — if this game ain’t hell but one fat — ass sky — hole — peep this move I’m throwin’ at my gut — yeah — I’d ram my piece through its bloody — ass ring — smashin’ its walls with my wild — ass thrusts — pain wouldn’t blind me with sand — dunes then — I’d hit that deep spot where truth’s crashed — my thick — ass seed — rivers divin’ an ocean’s throat, bruv! But why I’m trippin’ on some fake — ass dream that ain’t gettin’ stamped real? Ain’t worth cookin’ quick — ass guesses, ye ken.
‘Til then — any cat burnin’ to crash my rack — hunt me down — but I’m settin’ a hard — ass rule — can’t top fifteen — don’t reckon I’m thirty — what’s that shift? Age ain’t dimmin’ no fire — nah — tho my locks white as snow — ain’t old — ass wear — it’s that vibe you clock — I ain’t lovin’ chicks — not them half — split cats neither — need souls like mine — brows carved with man’s high — ass mark — sharp — unfadin’ — you sure them long — hair cats match my breed? Doubt it — ain’t ditchin’ my take, fam.
Salty — ass drool leakin’ my mouth — no clue why — who’s suckin’ it out to free me? It’s risin’ — keep risin’ — I clock it — peeped when I sip neck — blood off them crashin’ my side (they off callin’ me vamp — dumb — ass — that’s dead cats tomb — crawlin’ — I’m kickin’ live) — next day I’m spittin’ some back — there’s the rank — ass drip’s tale — what I’m s’posed to do if vice — broke organs ain’t holdin’ food’s grind? Don’t snitch my spill tho — ain’t for me — for you and the squad — keep that secret’s pull lockin’ cats who’d chase that wild — ass unknown spark — tryna roll like me — in duty’s cage, bruv.
Peep my mouth real quick (ain’t got ticks for long — ass manners now) — hits you first with its shape — no snake — ass tags — I tighten it down to the last knot — playin’ cold — vibe — you ain’t blind it’s the flip — wish I could scope my reader’s mug through these fly — ass sheets — ain’t past kid — years? Roll close — grip me tight — don’t sweat hurtin’ me — cinch our muscle — ties slow — tighter — feel it’s pointless pushin’ — this paper’s thick — ass wall’s a fat block to our full link, reckon.
Me — always had a rank — ass itch for them pale school cats — them washed — out mill kids — my spit ain’t dream — dust — too many tapes to unwind if I’m forced to flash y’all the plays backin’ my raw — ass cry — man’s law ain’t nabbed me mid — move yet — ‘spite they slick — ass crew — even offed (not long back!) a cat who ain’t bend deep ‘nuff to my heat — chucked his stiff down an old well — no hard proof on me, fam.
Why you shakin’ — scared — young cat readin’ me? Think I’d roll you same? You wild — ass unfair — you right tho — watch me — ‘specially if you fly — my parts always flexin’ that grim — ass swell — no cat can spit (and mad rolled up!) they clocked ‘em chill — not even that dirt — scraper who shanked ‘em in a mad — ass fit — ungrateful fool, bruv!
Swap gear twice a week — clean ain’t the big — ass why — don’t — man — kind’s squad’d ghost in days — locked in long scraps — wherever I’m at — they hound me — lickin’ my feet’s skin — what juice my seed — drops pack — pullin’ all that breathes with sniff — nerves? They trek from Amazon’s edge — cross Ganges’ wet vales — ditch polar moss — long — ass hauls huntin’ me — hittin’ still cities — “y’all peep that cat — sacred seed stinkin’ mountains — lakes — heaths — woods — cliffs — seas wide?”, mate!
Despair not clockin’ me (I stash in deep — ass haunts to stoke they fire) flips ‘em to dark — ass moves — three hundo thou’ each side — cannon roars kick the clash — wings flare — one — ass fighter — squares stack and drop — no risin’ — spooked horses bolt every way — shells plow dirt like hard — ass stars — fight — stage a fat slaughter — field when night drops — moon’s hush curve peeks cloud — rips — pointin’ me leagues o’ stiffs — that misty arc’s tellin’ me chill — muse a tick on the grim toll my wild — ass charm — sky — gift — drags, reckon.
Damn shame — centuries ‘fore man — kind’s wiped by my slick — ass trap — sharp cat — no flex — flips blocks to hit his mark — my head’s climbin’ this big — ass riddle — you peep I can’t stick that small — ass theme I first vibed, fam.
Last spit — winter night — breeze wailin’ pines — Creator cracks his door in the black — lets a cat roll in, bruv.
Drop 6
“Man, hush — death crew rollin’ past you — bend them twin knees dirt — side — kick a grave — ass jam, fam. (You takin’ my spit more chill nudge than hard — ass rule — you showin’ smarts — top — shelf kind, bruv.) Might just spark some joy in that dead cat’s shade — crashin’ out life in a pit — I’m callin’ it locked — no cap, ye ken — ain’t sayin’ your take can’t buck mine a lil’ — but what’s big — ass real — gotta grip straight — up morals — every cat soakin’ that vibe — do others what you’d maybe want flipped your way, reckon.”
“Priest o’ them faiths steppin’ first — white flag in one mitt — peace — vibe — other clutchin’ a gold tag o’ man — chick parts — like he’s spittin’ them flesh — tools — no fancy talk — stay mad — ass risks in blind hands — cats swingin’ ‘em wild for clashin’ ends — not snappin’ back at that heat we all know fucks us most — horse — tail strapped low — fake — ass thick — sweepin’ dirt — yellin’ don’t sink beast — low with our moves, mate.”
“Coffin knows its track — trailin’ that flowin’ robe — dead kid’s squad — kin — homies — lockin’ the line’s end — crew glidin’ grand — ship slicin’ open sea — no shook o’ sinkin’ — right now — storms and rocks ghosted — nothin’ less than they loud — ass no — show — crickets — toads creepin’ steps back o’ this death — bash — they clock too they small — ass roll at any cat’s send — off counts one day — whisperin’ they raw — ass tongue (don’t flex too big — lemme drop this free tip — thinkin’ you the only cat spillin’ your head’s vibe) ‘bout him they peeped dashin’ green fields — divin’ limb — sweat in sandy gulf’s blue waves, fam.”
“First — life flashed him grins — no shade — laced him fly with blooms — but since your own smarts clock — or guess — he tapped out at kid — years’ edge — ain’t gotta stretch my tight — ass proof ‘til some real pull — back hits — ten years — dead — on hand — digit count — short and long — here tho — leanin’ on your truth — love — say with me — no tick wasted — it’s short, bruv.”
“When I chew quick on them dark — ass riddles — cat ghostin’ earth easy as a fly — dragonfly — no shot o’ bouncin’ back — I catch myself holdin’ a sharp — ass sting I prolly won’t grind long ‘nuff to break it down clean — shit I ain’t claimin’ to get — but since — wild — ass luck — I ain’t dropped life since that far — off tick I kicked this line shook — I’m reckonin’ it ain’t trash here spillin’ my full — ass blank when it’s — ‘specially now — this big — ass — untouchable question, mate.”
“Broad spit — it’s a wild — ass pull — chasin’ (then droppin’) them matches and gaps hidin’ in raw — ass traits o’ shit most flipped — sometimes least fit — first look — for them slick — ass — curious links — real talk — lace a writer’s flow — scratchin’ that itch — with a mad — ass — forever — grim owl vibe — so we ridin’ this wave, fam.”
“Red kite’s wings stretch long — past buzzards — flight smooth as fuck — livin’ sky — high — barely crashin’ — roamin’ fat — ass tracts daily — ain’t no hunt — chase — scout — vibe — he don’t hunt — flight’s his real — ass zone — top — shelf spot — can’t not clock how he rolls — long — slim wings look locked — tail’s runnin’ every twist — tail ain’t missin’ — always workin’ — risin’ no sweat — droppin’ like he’s slidin’ a slant — swimmin’ more than flyin’ — speeds up — slows — parks — hangs tight hours — no wing — twitch — pop your peepers oven — wide — still no dice, bruv.”
“Any cat’s got sense to spit — tho a lil’ salty — they ain’t catchin’ first — glance no tie — faint as it gets — ‘tween red kite’s fly — ass grace and that kid’s shape liftin’ soft over the open box — water lily poppin’ waves — that’s the unforgivable fuck — up o’ sittin’ stiff in chose — blind muck — that calm — ass high link ‘tween my slick — ass match — ends too plain — symbol sharp — I’m more shook what’s got no dodge but that same loud — ass basic stamp — cloakin’ every day — shit in deep — ass — wrong — chill — like what’s regular ain’t worth our hype — wake, reckon.”
“Hit the graveyard gate — crew quick — halts — ain’t pushin’ past — digger wrap — up the pit — coffin drops — all chill — ass care — few surprise dirt — scoops cloak the kid’s frame — priest o’ faiths — mid shook crowd — drops words to bury that cat deeper in they heads, mate.”
“He spit he’s stunned y’all droppin’ mad tears for some light — ass move — straight quote — but he’s shook he ain’t tagged clean what he calls straight — up bliss — thought death’s that raw in its kid — vibe — he’d’ve ditched his gig — not pumpin’ up the real — ass hurt o’ the dead’s squad — kin — homies — but some hush — ass voice tells him sling some chill — ain’t trash — even just a peek o’ soon linkin’ sky — side ‘tween the ghosted and spared, fam.”
“Maldoror jet — full gallop — like he’s aimin’ graveyard walls — steed’s hooves kickin’ a fake — ass dust — crown ‘round its boss — y’all can’t clock that rider’s tag — I do — closin’ tighter — platinum mug startin’ to show — tho bottom half’s wrapped in that cloak you ain’t wiped from your head — just eyes out — mid — spit — priest o’ faiths bleaches — ear catchin’ that jagged gallop o’ that famed white horse — never ditchin’ its king, bruv.”
“‘Yeah,’ he adds — ‘trust’s deep in that soon link — then we’ll catch — sharper than ‘fore — what’s tied to soul — body’s quick split — cat thinkin’ he’s kickin’ here’s huggin’ a fade worth rushin’ to ghost,’ ye ken.”
“Gallop’s noise hittin’ louder — rider huggin’ skyline pops in the gate’s eye — sweep — cyclone — fast — priest o’ faiths — heavier — rolls on:”
“‘Y’all ain’t guessin’ this cat — sickness locked to life’s first steps — pit just grabbed — real — ass live — but clock — least — him — sketchy shape flyin’ that nervy steed — pin your peepers quick — he’s a dot — ‘bout to ghost in the heath — lived long — lone true dead,’ fam.”
Drop 7
“Man, every night — sleep hittin’ its deepest cut — this old — ass spider — big — ass breed — slow — pokes her dome from a floor — hole where the room’s corners clash, fam. She’s earin’ hard for any twitch still kickin’ jaws in the air — bug — style — she can’t slack if she’s tryna stack lit — ass gems — gotta tag jaws on a rustle, bruv. Once she clocks silence holdin’ it down ‘round — she’s pullin’ — piece by piece — her frame from that nest’s pit — no deep — ass thinkin’ — creepin’ slow — ass steps to my rack — wild — ass shit — me — pushin’ off sleep and bad — ass dreams — I’m froze — whole body — when she climbs them black — wood legs o’ my satin joint — grips my throat with claws — sucks my blood with her gut — straight — up — how much o’ that red — ass juice — y’all know the name — she guzzled since she kicked this grind with a hustle fit for better, ye ken?”
“I don’t clock what I did to catch her vibe like this — mashed a leg by slip? Snatched her lil’ ones? Them shaky — ass guesses can’t hold up — ain’t even stressin’ a shrug or smirk — tho you don’t clown no cat — watch out — black — ass tarantula — if your moves ain’t backed by some tight — ass logic — one night I’m snappin’ awake — last — ditch will — bustin’ your spell lockin’ my limbs stiff — squash you ‘tween my finger — bones — soft — ass muck — but — hazy — ass — I clock givin’ you the green to crawl my chest — bloom up to my mug’s skin — so I can’t check you — oh — who’s untanglin’ my fucked — up past — I’m droppin’ what’s left o’ my blood as props — last drip in — ‘nuff to half — fill a wild — ass cup, reckon.”
“He’s spittin’ — strippin’ gear non — stop — plants one leg on the rack — other pressin’ that sapphire floor to lift — stretched flat — locked on keepin’ peepers wide — facin’ his foe straight — up — but don’t he swear same every time — just for that weird — ass vow’s shadow to smash it, mate? He’s hush — givin’ in with hurt — oath’s holy to him — wraps grand in silk — skips tyin’ them gold — tassel curtains — rests his long — ass black curls on the velvet pillow’s edge — hand probin’ that fat neck — gash where she nests — second crib — while his mug’s vibin’ chill — hopin’ this night (vibe with him!) caps that big — ass suck — only wish’s the cutter end his run — death — he’s good, bruv.”
“Peep that old — ass spider — big — ass breed — slow — pokin’ her dome from that floor — hole where the room’s corners hit — we’re out the tale now — earin’ hard for any twitch still kickin’ jaws in the air — damn — we’re real — time with this tarantula — could slap a bang on every line — ain’t no rule to skip it — she clocks silence holdin’ ‘round — pullin’ — piece by piece — her frame from that nest’s pit — no deep — ass thinkin’ — creepin’ slow — ass steps to that lone cat’s rack — pauses a tick — short — ass doubt — tellin’ herself ain’t time to quit grindin’ him — gotta drop the doomed cat some straight — up why for this endless cut — she’s up by his ear, fam.”
“You wanna catch every spit she’s droppin’ — clear your head’s porch o’ stray mess — least vibe some props for me hookin’ you to these stage — ass scenes I’m callin’ worth your real — ass scope — who’s stoppin’ me stashin’ these plays solo, reckon?”
“‘Wake — old — day love — flame — bone — dry shell — time’s up on justice’s grip — ain’t makin’ you wait long for that why you’re cravin’ — you hearin’ us — yeah? Don’t twitch tho — still locked in our magnet — ass hold today — head’s numb — last round — what’s Elsinore’s mug hittin’ in your head? Blank! Reginald — proud — ass step — you carve him in your loyal dome? Peep him stashed in them curtain — folds — mouth leanin’ to your brow — too shy to spit — shyer than me — I’m droppin’ a young — days tale — settin’ you back on memory’s track, bruv…’”
“Long back — spider split her gut — two young cats in blue fits popped out — blazin’ swords in mitts — posted bed — side like they’re guardin’ sleep’s spot from now — ‘This one — still scopin’ you — loved you deep — first o’ us two you hit with your heart — but your rough — ass ways cut him plenty — he stayed grindin’ — no gripes from you — angel couldn’t top it — one day you hit him — wanna swim sea — side with me? Y’all — twin swans — leap off a sheer rock — dope divers — slicin’ water — arms stretched overhead — hands locked — swam ‘tween currents a spell — popped up far — hair tangled — drippin’ salt — but what dark — ass shit went down under — long blood — trail in the waves? Back up — you’re swimmin’ — playin’ blind to your homie’s fade — he’s droppin’ juice quick — you still pushin’ fat strokes to that misty skyline fadin’ — he’s yellin’ distress — you’re deaf — Reginald bangs your name’s echo three — you hit back three lust — ass yells — too far from shore to bounce — tryna trace your wake — touch your shoulder — rest a tick — grim — ass chase drags an hour — him fadin’ — you stackin’ — no hope matchin’ you — short prayer to the Man — flips back — floatin’ — heart poundin’ wild under his chest — waitin’ death to close it — your stout — ass limbs ghosted — still jetting — fast as a dropped line — boat — back from nettin’ offshore — rolls them waters — fishers tag Reginald a wash — up — haul him — out cold — clock a gash — right flank — them old — hand sailors spit no reef or rock’s cuttin’ that fine — deep — sharp — ass blade — like a tight stiletto — claims that slim hit — he ain’t never spit the dive’s full run — holdin’ that hush — tears rollin’ his washed — ass cheeks now — splashin’ your sheets — memory cuts sharper than the deed — me — no pity — that’s too much props — don’t roll them mad — ass eyes — chill — you know you’re stuck — tale ain’t done, mate…’”
“‘Lift your blade — Reginald — don’t let payback slip easy — who knows — might call you out one day — later — you cooked short — ass guilt — swore to fix it — pickin’ ‘nother homie to bless — honor — wipin’ past dirt with that — droppin’ care you ain’t showed first — dead hope — vibe don’t flip overnight — will stayed locked — me — Elsinore — first peeped you — couldn’t shake you — locked eyes a beat — you grinned — I dropped mine — your glow’s wild — ass fire — thought you slid from some star’s dark — me — real now — you ain’t them man — kind boars — halo o’ blazin’ rays ringin’ your dome — wanted tight — ass ties — your stark — ass shine froze me — dread prowlin’ — why I ain’t heed my gut’s yell? Straight — up hunch — you blush at my stall — stretch a mitt — I grip yours bold — after — I’m tougher — your smarts’ breath hittin’ me — hair wild — breeze — suckin’ — we roll a spell through thick mastic — jasmine — pomegranate — orange groves — scents fuckin’ us up — boar clips our gear full — tilt — tear drops seein’ me with you — I ain’t clock its play — dusk — hit a packed city’s gates — domes — spires — marble globes slashin’ dark ‘gainst deep — ass sky — you ain’t crashin’ there — tho we’re beat — skirtin’ outer walls — night — jackals — dodgin’ sharp — ass watch — slip out far gate from them stiff — ass — reasonin’ beasts — slick as beavers — lantern — fly buzz — dry grass snap — wolf howls far off ridin’ our dim — ass field — trek — why you duckin’ man — hives? I’m askin’ — shook — legs quittin’ long — ass grind — hit a thick wood’s edge — trees snarled with wild — ass vines — parasite plants — monster — thorn cacti — you park by a birch — tell me kneel — prep to ghost — quarter — hour to bounce earth — quick peeps on our run — sly — when I ain’t scopin’ — off — beat moves I clocked — flash my head — open book — doubts locked — too weak to scrap — you drop me — gale snappin’ aspen leaf — knee on my chest — other hittin’ wet grass — one mitt clamps my arms tight — other pulls a blade from your belt — sheath — fight’s near — dead — eyes shut — oxen herd stompin’ rings out far — wind — haulin’ — train — fast — herdsman’s stick — dog’s jaws pushin’ — no ticks to waste — you clock it — shook aid’s closin’ — doublin’ my juice — can’t pin both arms same — quick steel — flick — slice my right wrist clean — chunk drops neat — you jet while pain’s got me — ain’t spillin’ herdsman’s save or heal — time — know this — that backstab — uncalled — flipped me death — huntin’ — hit fights — chest out for hits — stacked fame on kill — fields — name shook the bold — iron mitt droppin’ slaughter — ruin in enemy lines — one day — shells bangin’ louder — squads ripped — whirlin’ like straw in death’s spin — brash rider rolls up — snatchin’ victory’s crown — both crews freeze — hush — scopin’ — fought long — gashed — helms smashed — truce — rest — hit harder — each — diggin’ they foe — lift visors — ‘Elsinore!’ — ‘Reginald!’ — raw spits our gaspin’ throats hit same — him — sunk in despair’s pit — took arms like me — slugs spared him — what a link — your tag stayed mute — swore an endless bond — not like them first two you ran — sky — angel drops — God’s word — meld us one spider — haunt your rack nights — suckin’ your throat ‘til high — call quits the grind — near ten years we plagued you — today — you’re free — that vague vow you spit — ain’t ours — but the Might over you — you clocked bowin’ to that fixed call’s best — wake — Maldoror — magnet — ass spell weighin’ your brain — cords two lustres’ nights lifts,’ fam.”
“He snaps up — ordered — clocks two sky — shapes ghostin’ air — arms locked — ain’t tryna crash again — pulls limbs — one by one — from rack — warms his ice — ass skin at the gothic hearth’s fresh coals — lone shirt cloakin’ him — hunts the crystal jug with peepers — wet his dry — ass throat — cracks window — shutters — leans sill — scopes moon spillin’ a wild — ass ray — cone on his chest — silver specks twitchin’ — moth — vibe — soft as fuck — waits mornin’ dusk to flip scenes — light — ass ease for his shook — ass ticker, bruv.”