Sunday, October 19, 2014

Sympathy and Sweetness

A man of
C'mon man,  I thought you knew

The best,  I thought you ever knew
A tune,  can you sing me something?
Over the moon.
And a tune.

Truant,  fornicator, abuser of authority.
A cost that could not be afforded justice,  a cause.
I'm over it.

That's for #Django,  and The Chi.

Whatever, I am forgettable.
A moment of mercy or laughter.
I quit.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Scientist (Stradivarius Reproduction)

Just because you have no proof of nothing, doesn't mean it doesn't exist.

Re: Bill Nye
It's like saying I've never taken a picture of my dick, but my children assure me it's there.
Maybe, a picture of Venus,  but have you set foot on it?
Maybe, your wife, or your om pere, but did they tell anyone,  in acute detail,  and did their acerbic refresh,  and hold the same object,  or was it smaller.. Because diminutive, hand held accounts can't hold justice no?
Here: #BillNye #STS75, account for that,  say hi to Rick, and while you're at it tell him plagiarism can't afford it hun,
Sure it'll mean something to him.
Speak wisely.

Teetotalers, up in the sky,  it's Nietzsche, in the Corsica Durante.
And fonts,  you cannot afford.
Bill Nye feels me, and Dick, it's Dick.
Sure it means something to him.
Free Energy
A team that cannot spell Pi without looking humble.
And the Corsica Durante, got in a little fender bender.
Elephantism,  maybe Juno, Maybe #Kwest hit it hunh
You,  Wifey, Om Pere, crumpled under sheets.

Still,  shaking,  you believe in your kids,  right?
Have I a fight in me.

And such,  The Strad, in midi.
If you were to condense Mercury,  you'd have me these weeks.
My pen.
So Help Me God.

We toppling buildings, us.
Not 1,2 or 5.
Millions of us.

Trust us diamonds,  climate shines,  and you cut my chvch knee ugh Dr

Tuesday, October 14, 2014

I can't help it if i AM just a Hater

I can't help it if #LawrenceWelk is what you choosing to abuse your listening audience to.
I Brutus, I Judas,, just to see what the listening audience believes in,
You got spit for mouth?
I been doing this sin,ce the word "Duck" came out.

Since tractors were sprouts.
Since the bear left and the bitch come out.
Sand niggers, speak up shit, or damn, not another journalist could move.
Here's a toothpick for The Ad-admin
The internet.

I'm betting oil is obliterated.
Until we figure out how to use it.
Do that.
My word, to the Caliphate.

This sand-nigger, i been reading a bunch about, why'd he flip the temple tables?
And when does the next Holiest come?
I have a few bars, beyond reverence, so now Caliphate, let's pray, in alliance with Malala, and nothing different, or do not pray.
And be gone, publishing.

Monday, October 13, 2014

The #IC

Cause that's what it is,
You cannot state, that the will of god is to be even momentarily, policed by the uneducated.
The Girl, you guys shot in the face.
Got the Nobel peace prize rwo days ago,
The man who invented dynamite, dynamite, awarded her this prizs, as the Caliphate.
This, you cannot go wrong on, so i state.
Our regime, is more dedicated, more thoughtful, more powerful, and we are beginning, beginning, to Appeciate girls.
Who Marced The Martyr?
Who gave Halima her chosen dress?
I address you, all #IC, to know beyond Caliphate, and teach me of Chr1st's legacy.
Or pull your skirts back down, and be a lesson in our math, redaction.
Have you heard of it? Has it happened, well, i choose not to have it happen to you.
But to shoot a  ten year old in the face, because her parent's disgraced her with a dream of leaving erdun, pashtun, afghanisten.
Well fuck that.
We'll watch your children die from space.
And then you'll all be martyrs,
No nobler than that
I'll never take nothing from you, you deserve it all.
That's Future.

Sunday, October 12, 2014


If I got a switch,  and said biblical behavior,  you'd be wrong.
If I dropped 2pac,  you'd say battery,  or rape,  and you'd be wrong.
If I said,  I respect you,  I'd be,  for the things that I said before.
If I said, your affection, your shame,  is important to me,  I'd be wrong.
I am too strong,  to be ashamed,  of the words I choose to convey meaning. 
So if I say, you're wrong,  I'll be patient,  but will not wait.
So if I say you got to get your weight up, I'll be patient.
Fucking AC, cool it, together..

The Tate, the Guggenheim, west on Slauson.
Coast to coast,  |FM. Bitch.

I'm introspective, I'll fix it,  wait.

Friday, October 10, 2014

Who are i

Where's your energy
Where's the synergy between silence and rapping
The difference between hitting craps on Dice twice and fapping, i know.
Made it out of the crucifix into the crucible,
So I'm grinding
Maybe too slow to hit Future in this chili-cheese fried world with #creamasumyoungguy but a banana clip?
And you can stick it to the t-shirt?
Both Sam Rothstein, and Casino, would shit themselves.
Pulling out in something european, i don't.
But coming in one in one second, three, even four times? Might be another Speed Racer out there.. i dont know.
Fully like, who are u?
Been a youthful movement and I do.
Next time you're cruising in your subliminal, leafing through your rolodex, think of Margaret Thatcher.
Ha, that's good advice. The Totality, For Kids, something subliminal.
And youthful.
Ever that.
Greaser, Kid, And i hit it, put that in your movie machine, and #Future,: What up, you fucking rule man.
And slam on the brakes.

Get off me bitch, go floss or something..
And gawk.
Stephen Hawking or something, rebooted to the Main. i'm out

SO #Jamla
Splitsville, Kid.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Another Missive

A little silo of mystery
A golden glove Mohammed of it.
You've got broccoli between your torture
On par ain't for me
Elbow to the teeth.
For my hosers.
Crease another bloodline
I've come tired of being tiny and I must breathe
Another crack of a bat to your mitzvah
A/c cracking Teeth

A Harlem new years eve.
I think
No one will comment on it.
My higher senses have gotten in tune
So if you don't do it
You ain't in it
This blue spins
And still the bottom and topside of everything
Another sinner who believes in Gods
And another tortured soul, at the crash site
Where a missile could have hit, but a bomb went off.

Sunday, October 5, 2014

I shot the serif.

But i don't hit the capslock key.
Omar from The Wire, my beef is with the municipality, not the country, Jesus.
Not Muammar Gaddafi neither but you under my sheets, Jesus.
Not in a mustard seed neither or, ain't you leaning on grief, or neither?
Caesar, why do your tender eyes fall upon grief so much? For fuck's sake Osama Bin Laden didn't topple your temple of greed.
Mount a steed, yes, but, if i know my Afghani .. Princes..
Then deed is in signing of an order no? To not intercede?

I am glad peace has finally settled.
Courtesy, Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney.

Jesus, these peaceniks will believe in anything..

Ashcroft "Th Eagle Flies." etc.,
Jeez, theres the rub. :).
They'll publish such glitz these days, miami, post, herald, anybody.
Such heaps, like the Gutenberg bible was a pile of shit.
Love, Me.

Open and shut case, no hoof in the mouth bucks.
Duck Caesar, i give a shit about mouthing off, said Jesus.
Cryanogen this tomb: you cannot die.
Bless you.
Choose, base, or features,
Thank you Jesus.

And this:
For my uhhh.. Features
My strawman told your strawman
Gonna set your flag on fire
My grandma told your grandma soon we can retire
My grandchild told your grandchild
You can set the river on fire

Saturday, September 27, 2014


Choose it.
No wait, Juice box, lose it.
It's like firing missiles into a slum.
No-one gets hurt.
Not one single person.
You know what's embarrassing, is the way Hitler's ideals lived on.
I suppose you take the person away, see them as equals.
And not people.
In the same conditions of the world you're in.

Now listen,
Give the free Islamic republic aid,
Cause I don't know if you've followed the news for the last 1,500 years,
Uncle Sam isn't gonna do it for you.
And I know, women's right to choose is and it is, so it ain't going away.
Let the red crescent believe in people.
We'll see what pillars of democracy reformists will march against.

And stop killing reporters, ISIL or whatever..
That's just stupid..

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

I'm the guy that gave Jesus his halo.

And Day-glo Abortions.
A fortunate One, some might say, having never spent a day in the suburbs.
They know the curb, but not to be kicked to it, and i, some might say, am fortunate.
Now that's a blurb.

I will to bring reason to grace again.
And when grace nods "Speak lovely."
I'll kill the bitch.
And quit.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Def Jux Plagiarist

Can't  handle wax.
Can handle crack in a pan but can't stand the look in their eyes, the lies they be telling their kids.
Now, I've had Kraft dinner to function.
And I've learned how iron channels in long lines with the poles of the earth,
so I'm not saying it all was waste.
So craft division sells I'm out.

Open up a Can'O on you.
Hit the #Buffet? No, buy stock, and look up.
Long lines.
They'll be buying soup in a shakedown like a Warhol at Getty get me?
And all brooks broke loose, money is not  the best weapon we have rivers again.

Friday, August 29, 2014

Dream, and you shall wake.

An eye opening
Harmony Korine in a soft resuscitation
A real pupil dilation, focus on the breakdown of civilization, like it ever really existed in the first place, or whether we're just now building it up.
Distinctly - E, but chock full of ecstasy.
Einsteinian genius, MC. the speed, the pull, the wait.
Have to look away there's so much light in here.
Suck. As if at the bottle.
Shotgun some aphrodisian shells of a man opened up,  Sex and Guts thumping and loading another magazine,  but I kid. 
And some open and close shit about Kathy Acker, that. 
And ya, Lunch,  box,  proto Riotgrrl homages,  I got all that. 

Enough crave on and Treyvon Martin jury trial renditions coming in to make me wanna light up some pigs,  as I blow Camels thru pin. 
and talking right at you like Errol's First Person.
Dropping 50 Cent pieces for you to cover your eyes with,  or the toll, or the trolls unabridged, :), anyways,  I'm swimming.

S/O #Horns coming out magic, cause that looks cool. 
Torro bull runs. Didn't want to rip Guernica just another Soft Bulletin.. I got carpet munchers in the feed and they're staying, some cool A/C thing about Andalusia braying to be cut.. 
The revolving Rothko ceiling, it awaits. 
Who needs a good banner anyways..  Heh. 
I could sigh: "pigs can suck a dick fly."
West points, and Knowles academia strip club publishing joints.. Most of the time anyways..
Go fishing, pull up, teach 'em all to read a gone fishing sign from God and still dozing like the Van Winkle shit I'm on. Well,  ahem... Gone, Splitsville, Gone. 
Diddy wouldn't pass on this joint joints fuck,

'Cause, real beauty to me, is to open the Oyster up and be like "Damn, it's Aphrodite." and then, to let it shut.
Says "Shucks" to my friend Lawrence,
And go for clams. 

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Business Infrastructure

Bricks or the Florida quays.
A prayer with DIRadiocast tonight..
Paws. All thumbs, this kid.
Enough to get my hood up, all ghetto,

No, hold up. Wait a minute. Said I got some guns out with bruiser kids, the hardest snot-nosed team ever seen. Check me, be thorough about them picks, my credentials will lead you places, and no, you ain't invited on FB, no. It's in MTL, wish I could say G+'up and my team..

Noses up like Gepetto. Fucking growth.
I sho' nuf.
But these cats, these pussies, wanna pray, they don't get me.
Roll up on my toenails, kids would smoke.
Fucking should say I put the CIA in a Dutch oven, but those girls might have a hard time rolling up to that..

Yo Wiz, one of my girls ever FB poke you even..
I'd smoke your toenails too, with grit, and consider pumping the music. Haha.. 15 mins ain't no fad. Stack 'em up and make Warhol's dream come true. Poof, a smoke dream, a Cudi vapor thing, but I know that ain't true.
That's no rip Wiz, just put on some weight, 'fore its cool she sucks your dick Homes.

That's to Campbell's Manhattan loft to lose, dining cart, and what Buffet did to the vegetable market huh?
Ones and up.

Big 'em up.
My cuff links... Babe.. They in the gutter, with Usher.

Love the mother-fucker. Like A Rothko, better Monet. Up on the ceiling. No typo my Rothko, it comes it different languages. Your daughters, son, Heaven Grace me sun. And that van go dark, on the heels of that news robbery like boy you didn't see me. And bam, a new son-in-law, bra straps all on the ground, swizz keys bumping around and that John Lennon mother-fucker all turning upside-down, in the middle of an international review of his worth.

That Rothko keeps flipping, over and over, it's a shame the art market's bottomed out these days, hot pink and sky blue was quite a thing back in the day..
Basqiat hot..
The roof off kid..

Fucking crazy, you just want to die no?
Oh, you into Four Season greys..
Shit, ain't that a bitch.

Yo #Hungary, let's drive some prices up.
Yo #Sealy let's get posture perfect and flip it no?
Maybe I'll be like, it's all meaningless..
Wait, nope.

I'll be like that procrastinator gave the world the most beautiful things it's seen since Van Gogh invented wheat, since Picasso crafted us the heat, the only perception of war; since God gave us into adoration of boundaries(j2)

Cuz' homies. I could call them ponies.
The track like you Yo Gotti.
I'm a clutch on the Ten-Gauge.
Gave her owners a taste of the Biker meth, I kicked the kickstand off. If you gotta drum or something, beat on it, cause you can't beat this. Bet her, yet. Running my mouth, gift horses and shit.

The bars.
You should see her fly.

Comme ca.

The best, poetry, can they.
Can Banksy, do art.
Christopher Reeve fly. Crushed. These bars.
I'm craps to a casino.
I'm spinach, and olive oil, to your menisci, Menudo and Bruno.
And handing out hamburgers, and you'll be seeing me Tuesday.
Pop. Eyes.
Right out.
All thumbs.
Wait.. What day is this?

So whatever. Choke on it, see you tuesday.

Sunday, August 24, 2014

I was once a youth

Likely to be fitted with a straight-jacket,
A hamstrung backpack all tounge-tied,

Call me selft-possesive
And obsessive-to angui

And you would see me, see you, see myself
As a pillar to fools
Not to your gut
Not as sea-salt
As Mahatma Gandhi gave King.
If a thread couldn't prove not a taught-less, teeth-less liar.
It took me forever to prove.
I am not thought-less, and would an ant across my printing screen prove that God indeed do does exist.
Not a taught less would be my lyre.
But indeed. He does.
Tire, I dare not improve.
For the will of Richard Dawkins.
I will not, dip into one.

Now, hold up,
Do I suck into the cusp of one?
Did I say that I'm a poet?
Do I give you a cross-grained thing and not tell you, or label it?
I am the Roman archer is to what plywood does.
Without dipping too much into forethought
I am lightweight, grained, an' heavy on technique.
But you wouldn't want to know what #WeezyFBaby or what #50Cent think.
Cause you'd think ink, damn, couldn't give a gram.
About love darling.
But did they Pharm it up,
Could the best brand in magazines really give a puck?
Not huckleberry slim, and no virgins neither?
Could I slam a lock down over past tense?
Ya, I can.
And frankly, I give away damns about cats in prison, for relearning 10 50 an hour, and making payroll and spending half-a-month to get 8.

Tune.. Don't give me half a month,
Bigger than Presidents.

That's what I give 50.
What a brand give about love darlin,
And he'd be above love darling,
An' an eighth of a yatch
Damn jobs, damn HOVA K-West crossovers.

Listen here "I need a nautical few" sitting crew with chill believers while I crest, run 50 and keep the dream alive, or be like God's son Baby.. See that son of Sam shit(link, Baby, link)

Here: All

You'd have your

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Hungrier than Ramadan

Passover like Judges 10
Let All'ah them eat.
No questions.
Heat , and a dime a dozen.
Breadtrail crumbs shove you all in a coven and burn one.
I'm hungry, gimmie something
Let's eat.


I had enough coke.
Red bullshit. And such, coming close. Like the second.
Getting near.

I could give lessons.
Learned, like you burned one.
To pot. And under construction, Damn.
I'll have an alka-seltzer, thank you ma'am.

You need a license to kill mother-fuckers like a pillar of salt, around these parts.
The art is in construction, and I will not damn a river, to make salt.
Like the ocean.
And, damn. That's without reserve.
Se4v3. KO
Passover, judges 20, cause who needs weapons, when you got a pen.

Thanks _unclesam

Call it a twitter feed.
Chr1st needs to few.
And is not of consumption
You lasted all'ah your best.
Now stand, Turkey.

Thursday, August 7, 2014

Yo Cinos

Where you at man, got me all curious now. i go a new dish to serve up on "Warm Up, or, Lighten Up, Son :)"  was looking to run it past. guess it's just a flash in the pan..
it's scorching tho.. and would be hotter under the sun.
i think.. burning up, ferocious, maybe i can thank you for the redirect..
Narcissus was a kid compared to me, some days.
Maybe it's just a half-baked idea, or maybe it's the fois gras from Prometheus's parakeet or whatever.
It's luncheon meat, bread, that's why i don't care about it.
But a man's gotta eat. Tasty treats like on "It's Always Sunny.."
Maybe i'll release it..
The revision, i like the parakeet.
keeps throwing up the fois gras like "Blagh. You got a Cracker?"
That damn parakeet..

hot like Atlanta summer when Outkast's Speakkerboxx was released. That Heat, Fuck Miami. There's proly two street dudes in the whole city.
Tasty Treats, but where's the loyalty, anyways Baby, step up on the train,
'Cause it's east meets west fusion cuisine, at high speed.
Listen here, before you get up, it's Gordon Ramsey would die go to heaven cuisine, if you feel me.
+we got a biker gang to meet up with, ice like there's liquid helium, in the room.
a total vacuum. no pressure cookers.
and babe, that ice is so cold we levitate. and the ride is smooth. now excuse me, i just gotta bless #TheGame before lift off. cross myself. k cool.
damn i love to see that caboose move..
#CIA, #DEA, #RCMP eyeballs been stewing. now they're on roast. if pigs could fucking fly 'eh..
bumping up in the dining car, serving only first class mother-fuckers, but most of 'em street.
can't even see these red bottoms could even touch the ground, trust me dear Teacher you'd hear 'em. mighta died without your lessons Hefe so Dear Summer, sit back and get ready to eat.

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

A full bag of parking lot pimping

I got that.
The trailer's you.
You wanna mix your acetone+ with milk..
We'll be cruising.
Scars, ,not bruises. ,mount up
Wanna cut the bitching

Keep it 9/11
We skype.
Nailed that nigger.
Fucking whistle

When a white boy in a low ride comes rolling up.
Hit that bitch like a hockey wife.
No Puck.
Gotta b' comprised among dales.
Sore sooth.
Fruit loser.
A bruiser.
An oppression.
Gotta keep the gales up or we might not. Dale. 
Looking at you.
Sore loser.
I'm out.
Over MM.

Cock jockey, I been perfection, if you think it never happen , ii have.

God. Gullet. Gotta put it out. Me,
These #pound niggers can.
I can't shout.
So I clown.
#we are all one.
Some #brightsideoflife no #quotas.

#pout ''cause the white got the fuse on ugly.
Your pug got his face all screwed up.
Pug equal.
Fuck you.
I'm on cruise control.
And I'm wide receiver. : as you can see:

In my scholooolowooooslshoft.
I got you. I beer. Figure that.
And #elonmusk picks it up.


Monday, July 28, 2014

The Three Horseman + Me.

Not doing decline.
Triple that wealth.
By being hardcore.
Is what I do.
But I want.

Does God die?
Can I go there?

Because they're so bad
That they don't want to give it all a way.
That's it.
I could change the frame, with one d_elite.
They'd have their yachts, their basho met,(baphomet,) their God.
But God is good.
But It is.

We don't have enough money to eat well

so if you really care about my health
Ham/beef trio

You don't need to be C3P0 to feel my math.
Pathologically overproof.
That's what so many are reduced to.
Insular. Suction cups.
10% of brain function, for the real homies. Those that feel me.

Almond joy it ain't.
Might faint, feeling Ill.

Wanna spill on a pack of matches.
Might want to ask yourself, next time you light one up.
Are we going for usable lights?
Or matchstick production?
Digging me or for phosphorous, y'know.

For my next stage production. 


i seen my kid's robot racer spin around
and i know how much money a few seconds in the sun brings in
so if it's about letting the free market adjust, see title.
This just in.. 
It's headlights,
I want light and to see them dance.
Gigswatt/ton. Kapow. Or is the tesla uber design not up to e.6
No S3X?
SIIIX looks like a pustulant octet.
I'm asking.

So anyways..
just them.
if you're seeing my vision elon.
we cut the sunroof, i'm praying.
daddy gets a few minutes to spin the wheel, when mommy forgets the juice.
catch up free market, i gotta get in.

Dave Rushton

10:35 PM (0 minutes ago)
to me
maybe daddy just wants to take a spin over to
take a cruise... :) 
see what kind of condition the free market is in a little down the road.

Floor me #Anon, as you always do.

Regrettably, I'm out, could spin these wheels for days.. Dam Quebec Hydro's out.
Might catch me driving all Chinese eyed who knows these days..

Force some use to putt around, y'know.
Shop around the Pink Volkswagon Tiger Elon, with real love and respect.

Ps. It'd kill me if you didn't see my vision, benefaction, friends, I need 'em.
get 'em #Up