Amount to the hyphy of a language that doesn’t exist. Cane on the glass splinters into bare feet streaming a rush of blood toward destiny. Slip into the soul of dimensional aura and never ask for a second try. To lose is of a variety of openings seeping from color to brownish tinted yellow-mint. Violence acts out via staircase, bouncing a head on each step while spiraling to the floor. The nature of sound is nothing unless it uses a sidestep to that grind-ass beat: dick to crack to pushpin. He hisses, “Tite, yo. HhhaHhhaHhha, t’ss.” Stir the blisslessness. Continue feeding on. All. The. Right. Parts.
Melting stresses the divine presence of being. Art pretenses the creator of nothing. Nihilism whistles a similar song across the ninth floor hanging by its neck. Not pretending to be is the only way out. Sniffing into the oblivion of yayo. Dreams are a choice nobody becomes. Welcome to the dead zone of endless dismay. Color fleets as there is no vision to behold its birth. Tasting the decay of ancient skin curses the body of all nourishment. A punctured infant stomach. Falling from the bathroom window. The intestine hooked upon the exit. Length vs. distance: bur’ddur’werr’ddurSNAP *pop*.
The mystique of 18+ is impalpable. New MIXTAP3 (DOWNLOAD THIS, DUMMY!!!!!!) of theirs just dropped and will inevitably list under my top five releases for 2013.