Again?

I wunder if Feldy would like Berkeley Beets?

Well...Do You?

Bump.

H.O.I.

So far up my own ass, leagues past the second sphincter

All my life been on a brain quest

Tryna coup de grâce some practicality outchea program, become a profound thinker

The story writes itself, the actors glibly ad-lib, and someone in the audience is coughing ad nauseous

May not dig the bar, but tip the mixologist

Wack taste masked, ice n' charisma fixin' all of it

Wishin’ I had half the heart of Iheoma

Oh to know myself and steer clear of raggedy hoe ass drama

When a boy feelin’ down, ya know she gottem

When a gal feelin’ herself, ya know she tout ‘em

Map room crew lose theyselves when she gone

She the glue to any group, if she missing don’t be long,

8 chambers worth of myocardial tissue.

It was a long ass summer, GD I missed you.

Run away x8

---

I been… dyin' on the down low

Outlook don't open quick enough; the miniscule I can't let go

You’d think my masseter would be sore from all the jawing offfff

Started the procedure, can't clear the chamber, got that smoker cough

I set the table and y’all bail,

but guess who's there without fail?

The greatest poet I know who speaks in many tongues of prose

Protect me from my poor read on the room, thank gosh I found ya soul

Wishin’ I had half the heart of Iheoma

Oh to know myself and steer clear of raggedy hoe ass drama

When a boy feelin’ down, ya know she gottem

When a gal feelin’ herself, ya know she tout ‘em

Map room crew lose theyselves when she gone

She the glue to any group, if she missing don’t be long,

8 chambers worth of myocardial tissue.

It was a long ass summer, GD I missed you.

Run away x8

MKE '21 by One.Speed

Certified Donda Boi

Anotha one. Track 3.5

While y'all spinnin' your fingers on the tik-tok thang

I be sharpenin' the sword, sparrin' precision like X-act0 blade.

Don't drop that first "n" from my name.

Frintner don't play that game.

Strictly do it for the headasses, ruminators, one track bangs.

My biggest fan tried to doom me to loser status that night off Locust lane.

Throwin' stones at trains a stone's throw away from 909, can't shake that I made the wrong call that day.

Waking from a bender and can't recall my namesake.

I slip into a funk and start to construe my take.

The truth lies in paper trails, text receipts, shitposts engraved on a facebook page.

Why I gotta occupy 3 generations with the shit I talk and the way I break?

The youngest millenial; most boomery zoomer.

Clutching this microphone with deathgrip; clinical hj.

Celery up the bh, bah only Macgruber.

Fixated on the present cause the future never come sooner.

Draped in anxiety since that encounter with looters.

Done with being pissy, only left me wet with rage.

Every day's a sentence littered with semicolons;

Comma come on, ya know I never run outta thangs to say.

Bar breakin' like barbrady, pass the crambrulae.

Nothin' like the flash I get when I pierce these veins.

Never gets old when I see the smile creep across a hard stick's face.

Hands shaky from the sludgy pot of coffee that clears my slate.

Sleight of hand with some creative comment about their hat draws eyes from the draw, let the magic take place.

Perk up from the prick makes me feel like I've come into my own,

Father of the pride and I've grown my mane.

Track 1. Prose & CON.

It's that time of the day, Good mornin' mi luvz

I've got a pocket full of butterscotches; pocket of flush

A bit burnt on the 'demic, net didactics n' such

This triple water sign in his feelings for lunch

Cause nothin' what it seem from the outset, team

What I once thought of chasin' this RN dream

Sloped over a 'scope right near Gourney

A practicum crash course, bootcamp foleys

2 years deep, some placed they first IVs

Playin' catch up after stasis, ya kno what I mean

Tryna fill each hour with nuthin but the mostest

I'm pushin' saline then at a party playin' hostess

Tryin' too hard to have it all at the moment

Push yourself too hard and wind up on a donut...

Know what I know, from patho with the Bronas

The mood eccentric and the vibe is phoneless

It's that time of the day, Good mornin' mi luvz

Cuzzo's got the rona, Mom's lookin' done

So gown up, glove up, everybody shut up

The mood stay dour as the delta numbers caught up

One might wonder where optimism stems

Network news spinning different stories from places I've been

Hyperbolic time chamber where sleep lends no REM

I'm runnin' outta pleasantries to push from this pen

Keep your eyes wide and your task on lock

The replacements bout here, listen for the knock

Student for now, but boutta cop the Master's

Never stretch too thin, we vector not the raster

Don't forget to flash your card, lest fill the healthcheck

Have a nice day. Here's some Prose on the CON to reflect

909 S Locust St. Prod. K.W. by One.Speed