come down to hell kick it watch the game
stay for the ambiance you’ll be glad you came.
pack in the cinema for the main attraction
twelve fifty for popcorn in the smoking section.
inbetween prophet and profit
just a prophet trying to profit
its simple math you need bigger pockets.
how do you write a rhyme that hasn’t been said yet?
or imitate an artist that hasn’t been dead yet?
forsee the future on a radio jetset
we don’t dance we burn down your discotech.
walk like a gentleman
talk like a barbarian
sex on my mind times ten times adrenaline.
g stands for granddaddy gigantor galapagos
get up get with it or get ghost.
shoeboxes full of mint condition cassettes
stacked along the walls of suburban basements.
jesus out halloween eve burning down cribs
if you’re from where i’m from you might get the reference.
just a strange metaphor for irony
in these strange times that’s a sight i wouldn’t be surprised to see.
sometimes i wish i was like benny in brooklyn
wandering the city getting shit cooking.
gourmet to me bacon on everything
high fructose papaya juice fresh squeezed
a dead animal smothered in extra cheese
between slices of bread sauce extra spicy.
apes riding zebras through arabian tundra
hearts darker than the ghettos of Nigeria.
midnight to be exact even darker than that
crayola 64 yaphet koto black.
this bullshit economy’s got me
inside of target with a loaded gat and dynamite screaming hire me.
piff in a blanket rolled tight in the stash
diamonds are infinite all my time went to cash.
if i could rearrange the alphabet i’d put UNI together throw a verse after it make myself emperor.
razor blades in your krusty o’s that’s a cereal killer
waiting for global warming sixty degree winter.
in a tinted van with amps that pump more bass than 80’s dc
vs marvel image spawned zombies.
we’re coming to you live with the revolution via satellite he’s suing cable for reruns infringing copyrights.
sub zero frostbit
baboon heart transplant performed by kano moonlighting as a heart surgeon.
toasty fatality quart of blood technique
king for a day invested in pork bellies.
keep my duke and dukes up call me louis winthorpe better yet valentine from tip cup to rich fuck
stay awake for days trying to dodge the big sleep
don’t fear the reaper he ain’t this clean bitch please.
the thoughts of an undergrad that fell two years behind came back to receive a degree in fahrenheits.
sick of television bored of education
too many commercials to hold my attention.
segregated from the pack tiger cub on the lone path
out hunting at dusk resting for the sabbath.
gabriel and miles davis extended horn duet
thelonius joins to usher in the apocalypse.
a beast among men hank mccoy rouge scholar
built like a monster the knowledge holds the power
digital bathing at the knife party
in a bloody cape for an uninteresting events anniversary.


still haven’t learned to swim despite what some might think
float slowly above the surface and fight the urge to sink. wading in the shallow end with a hole inside the rudders keep paddling ‘til i find a safe place for harbor.
before i do my thing i’d like to take the time to chat, welcome to my home wipe your feet upon the mat.
my life’s a metaphor written by the illest cats
something like langston hughes meets kool g rap.
if this were a novel it would’ve been banned in the 80’s for misunderstood metaphors of worshiping hades.
my estimated worth the 1000 words of this photo
more glow than your average joe blow no homosapien dna found at the crime scene
just a full grizzly bear with a pile of bones behind him. with a look in his face saying you should not have fed me but since you dared to tempt me all of you are dead meat.
an ode to anxiety and paranoia in my head
to every i love you that got left unsaid.
i’m sorry i couldn’t be exactly what you wanted,
but the effort that i put in should really count for something.
maybe you took me for granted or the fault was on me they say it takes two to tango feel free to take the lead.
if i could do it all again i wouldn’t change a thing
i’ll never learn my lesson i’ll keep coming back to feed. mom coulda named me anything underneath the sun you can misspell or mispronounce it you wouldn’t be the first one.
she donned me after the first day under the sun
what a fitting name for elizabeth’s youngest son.