Bold face

 

I have friends on both sides. 

Allies on both sides.

I figured that if I wore AS MUCH PINK as I did growing up in NYC, it would be a shock and sigh of relief to see me in blue.

I ask that my hood homies not think too deep into me wearing THIS MUCH blue. 

It’s Sonic, baby!

lol and yeah.

I got my show outfit ready.

Harlem, we shall stand (up).

I just touched down.

Got mad calls to make and texts to respond to.

But NYC…

I have arrived.

#TheChampionshipCity

~Enter the Hamilton~

The pathetic.

 I woke up this morning with the urge to CUSS MY MOTHER OUT. How could you leave me RIGHT BEFORE I take off?! How could you be persuaded to subdue me?!! Why were you so strict???!

I suddenly got reminded of all the times where, if I didn’t have or show discipline, I’d be finished. And I *still* lived a rough life. I wanted to be my own dad. I didn’t want my pretty ass, witty ass mom to be Dad. And I was FURIOUS with my dad. How could you be THEEEEE most caring and loving mf, and STILL not be there when I need you? 

I can go on forever about him.

Hence the outro to November 10th.

I don’t need to call him a bitch ass nigga. I damn near didn’t MEAN to. I was just selfish… being selfish with Sonic. Sons, if you feel your father is a bitch ass nigga, it will reflect on YOU. Your entire manhood is based on your father’s EXISTENCE. You REFLECT your mother, in your beauty and grace. But that grit? That strength? Pops, all day.

So sorry, mom and dad. I’m just a rebel. Just like BOTH of you. We had good times. The three of us, me and mom, me and dad. We were superpowers, ya know? Dad was a high-powered attorney, mom was a legendary journalist. I was… a Superbaby. Watched by higher ups, respected among my fellow infants. 

Or it was all just… pure imagination.

See you on the 10th, mom and dad.

In spirit, of course…

Costume magic.

Maybe this is a freewrite. A poem where concepts and ideas serendipitously connect. It could be a vent, where names are kept/disclosed and thought of with malice. It’s not a love story. Or is it? 

I ask myself where I stand with love. Exes, crushes, groupies, strangers, friends… they complete the pentagram, but my failures with each disqualify me from being The GOAT (albeit missing acronyms). This time alone, preparing for the 11/10 show, has helped me come to accept that I am, indeed, a Solitary Witch. I used to delegate society to whosoever should stop by or call. Now, I’m not pressed to talk to anyone. I handle business, but the current situation I’m in doesn’t require me to be business minded. Nevertheless, random neighbors coming to my door asking for stuff is just cause to do whatever it takes to gtfoh.

I enjoy the time to myself. And I know that through it, I am more of an asset to myself and anyone who works with me. Still, what’s a magic trick without an audience? I’m sure drug dealers are amused when they cook up their product. But without users (fiends), all of their amusement means nothing. lol I can finally compare myself to the dealer! Anyhouligan, you can somewhat expect less of me… as you get more of me. 

Won’t lie, I’ve been trying to liken my social media presence to one Dr. Dre. Important notices, releases from colleagues, etc. Except it doesn’t work that way. I’m a chatterbox, and I love Love. As soon as I get a notification and it’s an affection-yielding individual:StarChaser, I’m right on it. And SECONDS after I finish, I read between the lines and realize what a mistake I made. Without singling anyone out, often times I’m reached out to by people who want to test the waters. Meaning, see if their allusions would ruffle my feathers. I haven’t let them, lately. But I feel it.

I take my own advice and “roll with the punches” (“Gloves”, suffice it to say it’s an old adage).

I am in pitch black darkness today. I bear the light I wish to see. And those who can be verified, can verify. I’m tired of longing for affection. I’m tired of hyper/overextending myself. I’m tired of it. It’s just hard because I’ve done it for so long. Love still exists within me. I’m just charging myself, every time I want to give it. I still write love songs. I still reach out to my loved “ones”. All I want is to love myself the way I love others.

If you don’t love yourself, how can you expect to love another?

Right?

Left.

Now what?

~Enter the Hamilton~

Femaliens, I believe I called them

at some point in time, in my blogging exploits.

There were FDAliens (hyper-attractive female FDA students), and there were Femaliens (women in general).

Loved equally, but if I got my pinchers on ONE OF ANY, it’s all shut down.

And at one point in my life, I would flood ANY of their inboxes with poetry and CashApp accounts with cash.

It all started in 2012, when I first came home from incarceration. Because of how well I handled myself while locked and earned some key point(er)s in the halfway house, I deemed it necessary to love my SELF more when I got free. It dawned on me that, though I can blame some for chipping away at my inner-security, no one’s going to care if I have years to cry. No one, from friends to family to foe. 

They won’t care, because I’ve survived it all.

And NO WOMAN WANTS A CRYING MAN.

Fuck all that “men cry in the dark” bullshit.

So, here I am.

Reintroducing women (and my women) to my #worldatlarge.

And trying to save men from #theworldatlarge.

The truth is too sensitive to share.

I’ll just pray for you all.

Maybe my life will make room for a Femalien.

Maybe even… an FDAlien!

Or just an angel at my table.

To play a player.

 

I’m not a player. I just have A LOT of female friends. At least I did at some point. Either things got too hot between us, I jumped the gun or they had someone all along. So that’s why I’m not in a rush to reach out. I take responsibility for it all. Well, some of my favorite ladies (peace to DOOM) are reaching out about the show. As hyped as I am about it, it presents an opportunity for me…

To prove to myself that I am worthy of the chase.

The only name I’m going to mention is Simone Porter. The last we spoke, she was planning on coming to the show. Three cheers for rekindling lost love, but she hurt me DEEPLY (broke up w me at the XXL Freshman cover shoot). I’m not seeking revenge, but I’m not trying to curve everyone (INCLUDING and ESPECIALLY Halo) for a “memorable” night with someone who had no reason to leave my world to begin with.

A few FDAliens are talking about coming through. I’m super weak for them, so there’s that. But I want to floss my new discipline. It’s been almost 3 years since I last had sex, and I’m in no rush to cypher my energy. I built it all up. Watch me erupt ON STAGE, *ABOUT*… well, ladies who are no longer in my life.

My composure is breaking as I write.

I’m looking forward to this show. No clue what’s happening after the show. I might wanna be alone, I might roll w H2 and Kesed, might roll w Bash to Harlem… Sciryl’s not in town, so my evening isn’t spoken for. Sha could roll… who knows, man.

I just know that…

“I ain’t a player, I just crush a lot; literally. My high school crush was hot!”

-Charles Hamilton, “Boy Who Cried Wolf”

One night only.

First time ever.

Ladies, feel free to come through and support. You might fuck around and dig it!!!

~Enter the Hamilton~

"Blaxploitation"

^
^
^

Simply a jam session about being MADE to feel a way.

ANY kind of way.

It's a technique. 

Some know more than others.

Such is why some are ahead.

Not hating.

Informing.

Check it out!

~Enter the Hamilton~

 

The Road To SOBs pt. 3

^
^
^
Dooin' it PROFESSIONALLY this time.

StarChasers, let's turn SOBs OUT!!!!!!

Click here to buy tickets.

(update: the promo video isn't playing, but you can still get your tickets via the above link)

~Enter the Hamilton~

 

A wild *drKiwi* has appeared

 

This *doc* always has a way of influencing me, to my detriment. Sad, because I believed in his hustle. He was more of a class clown than me, and only made himself available when it became evident that I was going places. I was more naive then than I am now. Praise be Zyprexa.

I can hear him in my head, saying I NEED to get back on H to make another Pink Lavalamp. I resented dude then, and now only a few weeks from the 20th anniversary, I want nothing to do with him. 

I dont hate anyone. I just don’t deem you worthy of a name drop. In fact, with the momentum I’m gaining (of which I’m thankful and worked hard for), you stand to get a great push yourself. So hold this L while I hold on to my time.

I’m even upset I wrote this.

It’s being written to combat the notion of particular StarChasers insisting the same thing. 

I saw from early in the process that talking about H usage was going to be ammunition for the heartless, “inspired” kid who wants to humiliate their favorite rapper’s favorite rapper. And I knew the value of TPinkL before it dropped, based on HARLEM’s reaction to it (I’m moving WITH you, my Beloved Harlem!). I was on pins and needles when it was time to release it, no lie. And as I pick the album apart and attempt to optimize the LIVE listening experience, I am reminded of what I did and did NOT do.

I DID give opportunities.

I DID NOT give a fuck about myself.

Now that I look at myself with a different perspective/mindset/lens, I’m starting to resent the “seemingly harmless” jokes and “better judgement” wisdom.

I shared, when I dared.

I cared, with no one there.

Only I got me here, from over there.

I can’t afford to make jokes on the situations of others. They’ll hit below the belt, I’ll follow-up, it turns into a gang/neighborhood related fight. And, when it’s all said and done, I earned a little over $1 million in my lifetime, BEFORE the age of 21. Only one in my family to do it. Everyone had their doubts, everyone had their beliefs. Did I suffer? Yes. But everyone in the workforce does.

You’re working with force.

Come one, come all.

Just don’t occupy the wall.

~Enter the Hamilton~

The Road to SOBs, pt. 1

^
^
^
Every other week or so, from 2008-2010, I was performing music from The Hamiltonization Process LIVE at SOBs. It came down to people requesting songs that weren't even IN #theprocess ("People of the River", "SEGA Music", etc.).

Get ready for a throwback from the future.

November 10th, 2026.

Get tickets here.

~Enter the Hamilton~

 

The Road To SOB's pt. 2

^
^
^
The legendary CH x KDot cypher.

Happened... like DEAD happened at SOBs.

Very real moment.

Just not my birthday.

Click here for tickets.

~Enter the Hamilton~

 

Let me spare you a day.

You inspired me, DeadMan. In your product, in your pitch, in your clientele (list). I was able to look beyond how you treated me AS AN INDIVIDUAL to accept that… you had to adjust to how your neph’ gets down. 

May you be able to accept my assessment, because we’re going down the White Rabbit paved steps.

To my understanding, you were representing ME with regards to your aesthetic in our mutually shared chosen expression. And some things I noticed. And yeah, mom knew I wanted to dress like a rapper. And yeah, I was always comfortable in a church suit or just khakis and a polo. But… you were catching wind of such aesthetics, INSTINCTUALLY.

You…

…nigga, YOU.

…

…didn’t know.

KNOW.

You felt. And you felt enough to make you want to keep a healthy distance. But you bled the well dry, not giving much room for ANYONE to express the truth. No less me.

You didn’t know.

So I used your decrepit inspiration to fuel my music for… what is now a majority of my catalog. Whether naming you directly or shaming you insect-ly, all I wanted to see was you making the stank face to the beat as your eyes get bloodshot red for the well-executed return shots. Thing is, you really care about me. So these shots were in the form of self-depreciation, fear, doubt and cowardice (your wife was the only gun I had to your head, at one point; a predictable, selfish one). I went YEARS harboring some ILL feelings towards myself for not being able to say how I felt within, despite being “a Ham”, #classclown, #superpianist, WHILST GOING THROUGH THESE FEELINGS. 

You can speculate on why, Sir.

It would only add fuel to your self-righteous fire.

I may have devalued myself, is what I’m saying in a nutshell. Your wealth can no longer be considered easily obtainable. You’re stronger than me, to quote the DJ Jazzy Jeff record I have spinning right now. Where I’m at mentally (at this very moment), this is kinda rock bottom. I’m talking to YOU, ABOUT you, TO you. On my form of media, my blog (Enter the Hamilton). I emptied out a whole self-mutilating clip on myself, just to make YOU look bad. Because I trusted you and felt you weren’t upfront with me. As I've so learned, things were as much of a mystery to you as they were me. I've also learned to forgive those "who trespass against...". 

So yeah. Maybe I can make it again. Best case scenario, with the direction I'm going in. Worst case scenario? I get fooled. 

And as wack as it is to admit,

...I'm a fool for you, Unc.

Foolish enough to make you brandish your burden of proof.

Kiss the wife goodnight for me

“Yeah. Thanks for meeting me here.”

This post is for StarChasers. Old and new.

I’ve learned not to make excuses (moreso in recent years). In taking accountability, there’s no excuse for the decreased quality in my music over the years. I can offer rationales, back stories… just not excuses. It wasn’t guaranteed that I’d ever be back in a professional recording studio. I wasn’t 100% confident in music produced outside of Fruity Loops. MY music, at least. You can include 9th. And I’m literally specifically talking about 2012. The doctor in Cleveland told my mom not to let me use my legs so much, for a reason she went to the grave for (though I think I get it). I just know that, while locked up, I developed a MUSIC style that REQUIRED my insecurity and, yes, bad health.

I had points to prove, adversaries to crush, and love to avenge.

I wrote one of my last few written projects (“CATS Can”) and recorded/released it, to a decent response. But it was what you wanted/were expecting. What I had up my sleeve was much more dangerous, and required you to believe so. Thing is, there was no guarantee I’d be back in a studio. And the beats to “CATS…” were all from my FDA 2006-07 era. So I let the experiments commence and recorded from #myCave. Got SLAMMED for it. So I hustled my name and fame and vowed to give you STUDIO QUALITY MUSIC. I just didn’t drop most of it until after 12/21/2012. 

I was (literally) in the studio that night.

I experimented with sound a lot when in these sessions, I’ll admit. Simply because I may have never gotten that opportunity again… or until I get another deal. So that put pressure on the SONGS I would record. Audibly experiment, but keep the record in good condition. In 2012, I decided that a home studio setup is best when you have NO track record to be compared to. And when I listen back, I have fun listening to the different sounds. But 2014, I decided to make it ALL CLEAR. 

Then Republic. 

Then I got screwed.

By 2017 I was using again, and it was becoming apparent to family (uncle and grandma). 

The music was clear, just darker (than ever, at that point) and more esoteric. Clear, in terms of sound and content. I was a vessel for The Devils, and I wanted everyone to know it. Making claims of astral plane threesome sex between Press Secretary Minaj and First Lady Carter. Sending shots at the catalyst for my modern depression, Jay-Z. COMPLETELY IGNORING Eminem (despite listening to Revival later that year). My Uncle George (who I was living with until I moved back to Cleveland) told me to no longer record in his house, because I’m not a “Bedroom Beethoven”. That with my experience, I need to ONLY do my thing in a PROFESSIONAL studio. 

Basically, my theory was “the sound quality, despite the HIGH quality of the tools, represented and reflected the circumstances I was recording in”. “Merlin’s Miraclez” sounds good because I was living good (at my Uncle G’s brownstone). "Ugly Desdamona" is rough on the ears because I was living in... a VERY rough apartment with Boe (140th and Lenox). I thought it would be easier to visualize the rough and tough talk by HEARING the stress and strain.

I want to apologize to my StarChasers. I took your love for granted. Now, some of y'all needed to get cussed out, and have since come around to not only apologize for how you treated me, but even went so far as to say you went BACK to the music you were downplaying and said it was ahead of it's time. But there are many StarChasers who were indeed around for a majority of the ride. And I cherished them, but privately. I'm vocal about them now, of course (Drew, Rivera, Mike Dee, etc.). But I definitely feel there were times they appeared in my world and I was a complete dick about it. So instead of singling out StarChasers that were angels/demons in my life, I want to apologize to ALL my StarChasers. The fight is won by clarity. The fight is won by quality. If I can't bring both in a project, I leave it alone. 

So, to my StarChasers, I just want y'all to be proud to bump my music. I'm hard at work at this hour to enforce such. Some times it can't get no louder, sometimes it can't get no quieter... I'm not cheating tho. 

I can promise you that.

With that said, here it is..,

*I'm sorry.*

just was tryna make you feel me.

pardon the force.

~Enter the Hamilton~

Unapologetic??

I really used to not give a fuck... at.. all. I was chasing after more females than The Pink Lavalamp attested to (they were bars, just between me and the ladies in question), did more drugs than I admitted to, made more and better friends on "the outside" than I can stand to forget... stole money from family, ...that's kinda the main thing I'm up tripping about. I didn't have to STEAL. Bad enough I was lying to get the money. No one knew where I was going with the paycheck I would get from working for my uncle. No one knew where I got the drugs from. Fucking, NO ONE KNEW WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT IN MY MUSIC, *BACK THEN*. It was all based on hallucinations and crazy days that no one would believe happened. So I stopped talking and started using more. Around The Pink Lavalamp, when I dumbed down my lyrics and talked about people I knew in common, was when it started to click.

Dumbing down my lyrics... and there is still HEAVY density in TPL... is why I kinda resent the album. I don't feel it expressed my intelligence the way my modern music does. In fact, I will say, from 2014-now, my intelligence has come clear through in my music. Before it was witty and inspirational, despite being dark and fearful. Now, I face whatever fear and darkness I project by ...quite simply standing up to the voices in my head. They tell me I'm not good enough. They tell me to go back to (insert album here) in order to regain the prominence I once had. They tell me to write another (insert song here) in order to go viral. It's not clear that a piece of media blowing up HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE CONENT. And if I've outgrown said album or song on a personal front, I can only submit such growth with the same "blowing up" device and ...see. 

In order to manage myself (in general and BETTER), I had to learn how to give a fuck. So, since Leila challenged me to apologize to people in my life I never got the chance to, I'ma start here. 

• Grandma, I'm sorry I used to use in your basement, and use your basement as a hookup spot for me and whoever was my girlfriend at the moment. You mean more than me than just who had "the free crib". 
• Uncle, I'm sorry I stole change for a Dutch cigar and some loose cigs. I just knew you wouldn't let me get the money if I asked and knew what it was for. 
• Mom, again I'm sorry for all the lies... ALL of them... from lying about homework to lying about syringe marks. 
• To the children I had with 2 Jamaican women who WON'T LET ME SEE THEM, I'm sorry I'm not in your life as much as I want to. Your mother(s) probably think I'm still using and don't want you to be FURTHER influenced by me. 
• Leroy, I'm sorry I put you through so much hell in 2008-09. I didn't know what was going on, I just knew MANY people wanted to drive a professional wedge into our friendship. 
• Dre, I'm sorry for not trusting you. We both know how cold Harlem politics can be, and I'm praying that we'll be some of the ones to make it out. 
• Nate, I'm sorry you saw me tweaked out at AM Studios. Now it's hard to escape you looking at me to see if something was drug related-ly wrong. 
• Sciryl, Kesed, I'm sorry I used y'all as alibis for where I was on nights I just wanted to binge and not be dealt with by anyone.
• HchO, I'm sorry if there was ever a time... and there was... when you needed me to be in communication and I wasn't. I just built a world for myself and didn't know how to management. You were an AWESOME big brother.

I'm sure I can think of a few more people to apologize to. But this was before I met SO MANY PEOPLE. In fact, these "so many people" KNOW ME through this album.

Kinda just blew a gasket (in my head). Gonna take it in for the night.

Never be too prideful to say sorry to someone you've wronged.

~Enter the Hamilton~