Today, as it seems

Intunation.

In-tuned nation.

Anyway, here I am in this South Central apartment, reflecting on how I got here and the gumption required to continue to exist. I am very depressed right now. Yes I have friends… I just got off a FaceTime call w Lou. He didn’t say anything to trigger me, so relax. I just feel as though I have no one (at this moment) to share the glory of music with.

I’m over here binging on Sun Ra (don’t bite, you bitch ass niggas) and Pete Rock (start off with HIM before you get into production). I literally have been having conversations with records/producers/artist that inspire me. I complete my solar mission, according to Ra. Pete calls me the NEW Baby Par. He really said ORIGINAL, but niggas got egos and memories.

YIKES! Chris Rivera just DIVINELY reached out. God blessed me with his friendship.

I guess I can close it here… thanks Chris!

Love you, Lou.

And that’s a lot, because…

“Music is the only love…”

I cracked the code.

~Enter the Hamilton~

bestfriend shittogo

 I am blessed to have a Rockin’ friendship base with some of the most talented, righteous… like GODS. Of them all (and there are few), my BEST friend is Halo. We connect on the exact level I strived to reach BEFORE I met him. I mostly say what he feels, and he mostly PLAYS what I feel. We have a bond, and anyone fi test shall face DOOM.

May this pic serve as the innocence of our friendship.

Now.

I have an another friend. Pretty new. I reached out to HIM, just to show support on his music. He is a true lyricist from Staten Island (I’m sorry about BK Girls, Shaolin!; let me make it up to you through working with my dude), and his work reminds me of early Em. At least the single I reached out to him about.

Chris Rivera got us back in touch while I was locked up. We’ve been in constant communication (albeit times we go into Scorpio mode), and I can honestly say he’s one of my best friends. I don’t want to make a list of friends. Sciryl knows I love him, Kesed is laid back about our bond, Nate is chillin, Sha and I are rebuilding. 

But I am CONSTANTLY inspired by Halo and LOU FROM PARADISE (Lou the Human, Big Lou, Scotty Demon). 

I just speak to Lou everyday. 

And I love it. We were signed to Interscope at different periods of our lives, so we BOTH know the game. He was, as it turns out, a StarChaser. I don’t throw it in his face… like… these last few years kinda made it hard to accept friendship (and romance). I really couldn’t trust niggas at 649. Same with 321. Both are halfway houses btw. Don’t get me wrong. I made a GOOD friend with Joel (Mendoza). We bonded over Satan, Rock & Roll and weed. He just well into a drug abyss and can’t be reached.

Shit breaks my heart.

I don’t have to worry about Lou getting lost on drugs. He got HELLA swag. And I don’t have the capacity to be egotistical with him. He comes up with GREAT ideas and concepts. So many that I have to filter what I use, and what would be good for others/him.

Lou, Halo, you ain’t gotta worry about me being wack. I’m here. For you, for me, for us. I would LOVE to you two to link. I’d love for Lou to meet my people. Shit, Rivera, Andrew, Chimp1, Dalvyn, Enjetic, R. O. (formerly Hiero)… The Hamilton Quazar is LOADED with love. You guys are priority here.

^

^

^

We’ll get a flick together one day.

Until then, welcome to my sick, sad little world.

We’re the 3 best friends that HAMILTON could have…!

-so mote it be

Paid In Full

 

^

^

“I cop bud and bottles just to follow the #hoodrules; put your niggas on, and you a good dude!”

-Charles Hamilton, “Honesty Box”

I can honestly say that I provided a good time for my closest friends. They were a support system when I needed, they didn’t enable, we built/created together… and even when shit got “ugly” (COOP!), we still formed like Voltron and blasted minds.

Not in the picture (physically) is Kesed. But, … and I’m certain I blogged about them before… but the man in gray is Halo and the man in black is Sciryl (pronounced Skerr-REAL; lyrics, backwards). The four of us are the most watched and most emulated by …anyone of whom’s art you enjoy. Sciryl is a Hip-Hop legend. Halo is the downtown king. Kesed is the NECESSARY DOSAGE OF JAMAICA. 

You’re reading my blog.

And even though we didn’t make it professionally, I repaid Demevolist for every time they hooked me up with a blunt or got me a bite to eat. Things are kinda weird between us now. It might come down to the very graduating classes were each we’re in. When I got to FDA. HchO, Swiss, B/A (known as Versatile at the time) and most of the class of ‘04 were running the studio. I was ‘05, Yung Nate and Sha-Leik were ‘06. I ONLY got in the studio because I played piano well. Like, played radio songs on the piano, VERY well. H didn’t think I could rap in the beginning.

Strange how it turns out that way…

yeah.

Me & Sha, in FDA, ‘06.

Dead a GOOD 20.

Like shit didn’t move fast at all.

We SUFFERED through them shit.

HchO & I, Nov. 10th, ‘08.

Damn, bro.

I’m sure it’s something I said that makes it weird for us to talk now. And I have (literal) receipts of you being wack (as we say). Doesn’t mean I didn’t and don’t love you. We’re just on 2 different paths, and I need to be my own HchO (in my life) in order to TRULY be a boss. You showed me a lot, though. So, if anything, thank you for being a great teacher.

Nate to the Yung.

Keepin it basic, we see each other.

Keeping it long winded, I hope to see you at SOBs.

Kinda just in my bag right now. Thinking about what a real nigga is. My friends don’t have to worry about me holding them down. My history is self-evident.

I guess I just had to prove it to myself.

~Enter the Hamilton~

Happy birthday, Kesed.

!!!, but .

.

Lines in the sand

Last night, I met a long time StarChaser and devout MC. Alfred Banks. GREAT guy, man. I first got FORMALLY introduced to him through Mickey Factz, who introduced him as a long time -Chaser who just needed a bit of guidance. We hit it off QUICKLY on the phone, and continued our bond to FaceBook, where we first met (I knew him as Lyriqss da Lyricist; not sure if I spelled it right). I remember posting him on one of my blogs. He definitely caught my attention, and I was (and am) on the sidelines rooting for him.

Many StarChasers know the following: there are low-vibrational people out there who pose as a StarChaser to get the conversation going, but it ends up being more about them and what THEY like, versus building an actual bond. I may take my time, but I always go back and listen to StarChaser-and-StarChaser related music. It’s always a matter of time and mental space. The way StarChasers influence me is, what in my content can they not relate to?. Over the years, I have been asked to not talk about incest and to be less homophobic. As real as both planes of thought are (to me and BOTH sides of my family), I understand that it is painful to hear being talked about AT ALL, nonetheless in the contexts I use.

I do have to check my temper when it comes to the f*g word, and Tomorrow is here (hi, Meg), so I’m on eggshells until we meet on the surface. I don’t want my hate to blow up in her face. Also, I’m not a hater of homosexuality. I hate how men aren’t accountable for their actions, and women end up permanently scarred because of it. I have some takes that’ll get me cancelled, and no man is ready to fess up, so I’ll chill here.

Just know that I view Alfred Banks as my son (with love), and I’ll stop at nothing to see that he is cool, calm and collected about being an elite level rapper.

I may have said too much.

Love you, Banksy!

Keep on dooinit!!!

That’s a U2 album cover, by the way.

You kinda can’t pause white people. They dead do it.

#CH

Contact Sport(s)

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A post shared by mclyte (@mclyte)

Seeing Lyte in a Browns jersey was definitely not something I banked on. But it's a heartwarmer. I kinda been under a rock with #whatsgoingon, but I am aware that Lyte is to be inducted in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Words cannot express how proud of her I am. If anyone earned their spot in #theHall, it's definitely MC Lyte. 

Sad, because she often goes underrated in the Female MC/MC GOAT conversation.

SHE put The Neptunes on ("I Can't Make A Mistake", 1998).

aight.. trigger warning. I don't want to spark whatever ain't lit.
Just know I'm watching, "niggas and bitches!" (Pharrell Williams. "When The Last Time")

I love you, Lyte.

When the time is right, we'll link again. 

We just have #proverbial time zones between us.

I'm on your side.

~#~

 

*virtually requested by Michael Roach* Couldn't Love (mixdovr) 0fficial lyrics

 

(hook)

I live my life so wrong for her.

I told my life so long for her.

So, I made this song for her.

Could you look at me and real-ize what you see?

(verse 1)

I was born a star. Maybe not a porn star, not where it's warm, y' all... but I ended up living in the west. To live and die in LA. Where do you rest? I lay my head... basically on the base that's fed. Staying ahead of the game could leave you banging your head. You may have to bleed. And it's the same for me. Staying away from where I need to be, to be safe for who loves me. Like not ever going to the club, or playing and requesting "Jesus Walks". I need to walk and talk. I need my thought to get across cross for y' all. Losing my mind, because I'm using this dime's juices inside.

(hook)

I live my life so wrong for her.

I told my life so long for her.

So, I made this song for her.

Could you look at me and real-ize what you see?

(verse 2)

I am a filtered killer. Still, I'm as real as Dilla. I exist too. He's who I listen to. Listen to him late at night, just to get the groove. Got me spitting to this instrumental. All grown. Star show. Awesome. I'm still alive, but where's the broad, yo? Where did you all go? My only audience. It's one. Applause for the accordion. I'm done. But I' ma keep grooving, because the groove is right and I can see her moving and soothing what knives are in my back. Swimming as I walk. Women want to talk. Giving them my thoughts. All I give, no cash. Can't hold back. I got my own stash.

(hook)

I live my life so wrong for her.

I told my life so long for her.

So, I made this song for her.

Could you look at me and real-ize what you see?

I got sins in my pocket, The Bible in my mind. Thoughts of my father standing back, watching me shine. Where my man's at? My mother should stand back and say there's no other. She like Danny Glover when getting a cab; she can't do it, so she need me basically. But I'm a black man. They afraid of me. And I ain't even in NYC. I see the city want me back. I can vibe with them, too. This is like the end  of any guy who ends The View. Meaning killing me. My eyes show the world and it's still with me. I'm feeling this bea.t I really am feeling like a silly man. But a million bucks like Milwaukee. With a broad (abroad) on the walkie talkie.

(hook)

I live my life so wrong for her.

I told my life so long for her.

So, I made this song for her.

Could you look at me and real-ize what you see?

^
^
^
Recorded lonely at... a halfway house that changed my life.

!Jr.!

Not Another Love Song (original title censored) 0fficial lyrics

(hook)

I don't wanna write you a love song.

But you're asking for it.

And you need one.

See?

I 

don't wanna write you a love song.

And I'm telling you it's

making and breaking this.

If you're

on your way, 

then 

FUCK writing a love song.

(verse 1)

I feel as if I just committed blasphemy. If you listen after me, there's no reason to listen to anything more than the bleeding of your lips when you kissing it. You cause the wound, you ought to assume you know how the other species would feel. There's only one other species if you're real. And even in the species unconcealed... keeping it real? It's still the same thing. Feel it in your brain you're numbing. Novocaine keeps drumming. Feel insane. I'm feeling sane while I feel insane. Keep coming. Keep cumming. I ain't done with it. Now I got an attitude, 'cause you keep dialing my number and I'm coming with. I'm upset, you're obsessed, I'm obsessed, you're upset...

(hook)

I don't wanna write you a love song.

But you're asking for it.

And you need one.

See?

I 

don't wanna write you a love song.

And I'm telling you it's

making and breaking this.

If you're

on your way, 

then 

FUCK writing a love song.  

(verse 2)

I never gave it to anyone the way I gave it to you. Feel special. Do you feel special? Voodoo! N-o. No! You ruin it because of what you know. No it's not you, it's me. You gotta go. And as you leave, I conceit myself. Hard to believe in myself, 'cause I don't believe myself. I've been calling you. You're not on delete just yet. When it's time to go, you're obsessed I'm upset... but you're obsessed because of my obsession. Upset at my obsession, I gotta get it in. And with the wind is you. You walk off. Got the neck, got the (top), ...got whatever you want. It's kind of hot. Kinda (sex). Obsessed and upset, because this road has been traveled down many times like Disco. 54. On the road there. No one there. No fear. No care. Oh. You're here. Punch in the face.

(hook)

I don't wanna write you a love song.

But you're asking for it.

And you need one.

See?

I 

don't wanna write you a love song.

And I'm telling you it's

making and breaking this.

If you're

on your way, 

then 

FUCK writing a love song.

(verse 3)

I told Sway "I can't keep falling in love", and he keeps playing as if he's Jay Dee. Now he's the Game Breaker like 2k (or a game away), but everybody thinking I'm crazy. Lately, if I provide him with the white in the room that I would assume would be the guy's doom, he'd be like "why didn't you and I look to the other side of the room?" Interception, like "I didn't choose but your eyes wanna view what I wanna do when I rhyme. And I'm not in a booth nor am I in a booth in my mind. And third eye's in my mind and I'm viewing it. And got my brain. Damn. You trying to take my brain. Now I'm out my brain, keep it! Now I gotta Ewing it. I'm doing it! Now what I'm saying is... not as lucrative. But lucrative for me would be removing my heart. And what you did for me, what you did for me, and so many of which I view and can depart at this moment, thank you. Let this be golden. But bear in mind piss is golden with no water. I need my music. And a daughter.

(hook)

I don't wanna write you a love song.

But you're asking for it.

And you need one.

See?

I 

don't wanna write you a love song.

And I'm telling you it's

making and breaking this.

If you're

on your way, 

then 

FUCK writing a love song.

I want to be able

to reveal to my daughter the right kind of guy to be with. 

And I want to be the right kind of guy to be with.

And

MUSES

are very expensive.

You ain't even got it to pay it, baby.

Let it be what it is.

Thank you, FDA.
Been in love for 30+.
Known you 22.

The love is so real.

Thank you DJ Jazzy Jeff.

One year I'll make it to the playlist retreat.

Columbine Gang, muhfugguh!!!

~#~

Art In A Day's Worth 0fficial lyrics

(verse 1) 
Let a nigga hold on for a few. Every single song that I do has the strongest view... from the top of the world. Looking down on niggas, who be looking down on niggas. It's a song, niggas! And it's on, niggas! What's wrong, niggas? You can't get along with a nigga pulling on triggers and blasting them at mind of cats who have the mind to rap past my mind? That'll never happen, so I laugh at the pastime these other cats have, with Kat Stacks. Running in the crib of Young Money. Taking all the money in the crib. What's funny? Hilariously, I don't have beef with them niggas at all. I'm trying to smash Nicki, do a track with Jizzy... Drizzy. Pardon me, but a nigga's too soft.

(hook)

I think I have won a place in the sun.

I think I have won a place in the sun.

I think I have won a place in the sun.

Free from the burdens 

and cares of everyone.

(verse 2)

Seems like I'm the victor. Like Von Doom. I'm on the room, not even in it. I've stormed in the room, breathing in it. My breathing's demented. The breath of a dragon. Excellently asking if these niggas could step with the passion that I have. Whenever tracking out instrumentals of which I'm spazzing out on. Keep in mind this is still just a song. I'm too high for this. As a matter of fact, I should write this shit. But I'm legit. Nice as shit. Get me compared? Then I sit right there. I should probably stare at the people who are *there*, but I don't really care. This is a nightmare. 

(hook)

I think I have won a place in the sun.

I think I have won a place in the sun.

I think I have won a place in the sun.

Free from the burdens 

and cares of everyone.

(verse 3)

I was ready, then caught off guard. My heading is awesome, y' all. How I start off every verse should kill the track. If it does not then feel it when it comes back. The instrumentalist and the illest with it. Gotta be the "until the very happy ending" that was predicted. Until the end of time with my sentences. Once upon a time I was the illest. Came back. Showed you a skill is. I deal with the shit. Pick up, get up feel on a brick A brick can hit your face in a different way than a hit could. So listen good. If my shit sounds like it isn't made in the hood that's cuz it's made from the hood I think.

(hook)

I think I have won a place in the sun.

I think I have won a place in the sun.

I think I have won a place in the sun.

Free from the burdens 

and cares of everyone.

#CH

(note: this song is the runner-up to *fave CH song*)

*NEW FAVORITE CH SONG ALERT!* Scorpion's Uppercut 0fficial lyrics

Look, let me tell y' all mufuckas something, man.

I had it fuckin rough.

Let me just vent, man.

(verse 1)
My quality of work bodies me, every time I try to get a volley with a chick in a skirt. (I'm) trying to put my dick in her hearse. Drive off. No life lost, no life to be given. Because, I didn't like wearing ribbons in the sky. And her pussy wasn't the sky. That shit was smitten with being the dirt. We have dirt. Me and life. She's that skirt. She got work to do with my voodoo, 'cause I move through and through so cool. No Live. No cigarettes. But I play Live with my bad bitches. Yes. And my bad bitches like my niggas, and they after my nads getting dressed. Put a rubber on. Love the fucking song. I do it till I'm fucking gone.

(verse 2)
I throw a brick at your crib. Have you standing on your porch like, "look what you did!". I ain't showing no remorse, I'm just showing niggas force. I showed you how I lost. Came back. Showed you how I floss as a boss. Now. What did it cost? I'm not playing Dos. Microsoft. ...but I go off. I like those talking chats coming from niggas, but I'm dumbing up and numbing up and running out of niggas to bite. So give me the mic. I come up with some that I invent on site. And if you don't like it, you can kiss my pipe. The shit been inside of your chick every night. But your chick is beside the nigga crib. My crib is in the sky, and that bitch get high. So dig this. You ain't even got to like it. But you know what vibe is, and that's what I give.

(hook)
I get down, y' all!
Every time I got a problem, I just let it go.

I get down, y' all!
Every time I got an issue, I just let you know

I get down, y' all!
Every time I got something bothering me,

You feel it!

You feel it
so much, you steal it.

(verse 3)
My family is late on the bandwagon. Now all my fans are asking if my family reaction to my shit is what keeps me moving. Nah, nigga. Just music. At the same time, I do get crap from them niggas who be soothing crap in the past by the way that they be moving by having gats that blast. Them niggas is like, "why don't you just get you a wife?" And I'm like, "my nigga I'm trife. I' ma cheat, and she probably gonna find a guy to beat. And I am not the guy to beat, damn it. I am me, staying in my L A N E. In LA right now, but any chick could get it and any nigga could get the fist".

(hook)
I get down, y' all!
Every time I got a problem, I just let it go.

I get down, y' all!
Every time I got an issue, I just let you know

I get down, y' all!
Every time I got something bothering me,

You feel it!

You feel it
so much, you steal it.

SEGA Goes To Hell

Available on The Official Charles Hamilton Website.

~#~

~#~

~#~

Here, is your winner.

 

And still.

My breathing is somewhat back under control. I did some hardcore exercises today, both vocally and physically. I’m not worried about the physical side. I know how to hold it down for crowds. And I never was the most active performer onstage. But vocally, I expanded to where I can do a few higher scales with my notes than I was able to AS RECENT AS YESTERDAY! 

God is good, and “The Devil is dead ass a liar!”.

I listened to a lot of jazz (today), a lot of breaks, a lot of sample packs. Currently listening to my man Ludacris. Booty talk in Atlanta is literally an expression. You can hear a lot of self-deprecation in it, as well as a lot of slick talk and gangsta-isms. I used to joke that I need grills for all the shit I talk. I abandoned the notion, because it’s an #iykyk concept, and that only reminds me of the ATLDL thing that brought about laughter from me and sadness for AIDS-infected black women.

Likely, I won’t be battling anyone anytime soon. I believe my MCing is, though superior, not enough to impress a crowd IMMEDIATELY. It’ll take time to understand my bars, and no one has time for E=mc bars. Now, 96% of you battle rap nights can suck this dick, and that’s just how I feel. I don’t think your bars are potent, or as potent as the bars of the 4%. I’m not entertained, you’re corny, and I stopped watching full battles because of this. But again, I’m not getting in the ring. Put me in your bars, I’ll put you in my songs. 

How beautiful is that, huh??

Strangely, I’m embodying RVD.

Kurt Angle is DEFINITELY a textbook champion. RVD integrated and became champion. 

Am I a West Coast rapper now? LA/SouthCentral claims me, no doubt. New York misses me, I can feel. It seems like Cleveland let me go. My style is that of Pete Rock meets Dr. Dre. Lyrically, I’ve never been more abstract. “Reasonable Doubt” wordplay, “The Death of Slim Shady” syllables, “Now Way Out” content. Plenty of pain, as I shine on you bitch ass niggas.

And still the piano calls me.

You’ll get it. 

You’ll get all of it.

Long shot, but peace to ?uestlove.

Also, peace to Uncle Snoop.

Finally, peace to Lou From Paradise. 

I hope everything works out for you. I’m here if you need anything.

Stray Dogs till sunset!

~#~

DJ Enjetic expands!

My good friend Danny "Enjetic" Rivera has just launched a website for his new DJ Coalition. It's a MASSIVE collective of DJs WORLDWIDE, dedicated to finding the newest, freshest, hottest underground music of all genres. You may have seen me interview with him and his lovely cohost Althea (Danny + Althea = D&A). Well, as Althea branches into making jewelry, Danny is now DJing and basically made a team of like-minded DJs across the globe.

Upon browsing the site, you'll see that you can submit music to be spun by your local D&A Coalition DJ(s). Because my newer music is based in LA, Danny (lovingly) lists me as a West Coast artist. I tried to argue, but I never really belonged in New York OR Cleveland.

Anyway, if you want your music heard and SPUN, sign up to submit your tracks. If it picks up, you will be notified immediately.

Shouts to Enjetic... *DJ* Enjetic!... for making it happen without being forced to.

 D&A Coalition
^
(click that)

#CH

Supernothing 0fficial lyrics

I just love music, man.

And I found a way to take this a little higher, each and every time. 

Get down, y'all!

(verse 1)

Step till your ankles hurt. Ankle bracelets. Make it work. Lift your skirt. Shake it baby! Major me, to be creative. I know, but... you're doing it for magic! All the spirits underneath the carpet... Speaking retarded to a beat. Retarded people see me and flee. Stand right there! I ain't trying to diss! Tryna make your brain waves easier to deal with. Kiss you on the third eye. Maybe you can understand the words I spit. Perfect libation in my system. ...how could I not get it in? Inspired/influenced by Eminem, plus the pot within. 

(hook)

I feel like a dungeon slut in the palm of your hand. 

That makes me feel like

Supernothing.

That makes me feel like

Supernothing.

I gotta shit but I'm wondering if what I'm shitting on gonna bite me back. Invite me in for all that. There's a lack of what you have; it's in my stomach. I ate it. Creation. Nigga, who run it? Interesting. You're dumb-ing. Harlem 'fraid, for being a walk away with Target. Not walking into Target to save... walking into Target to slave... to my topic. What I got, indeed. Far from a Bossip pod. Dig? Top this. Can't be topped when I rock. Fuckin, no sense is needed. I fuckin go in. Repeat it. You don't go in? You're seated. Any MC who needs to say Season's Greetings.

(hook)

I feel like a dungeon slut in the palm of your hand. 

That makes me feel like

Supernothing.

That makes me feel like

Supernothing.

Fuck making sense. They don't accept pennies nowadays. So I'm breaking pence (Pence). Maybe the guy in his position could make some sense of it. Since it's making sense these days, I've bend cliches in three ways: truth, lie, everyday life. What you live, inside your suicidal mental of trying to get higher than everyday life. Celebrities try. Maybe they die at the thought of it. Auctioning, walking in, talking all kinds of shit. Bosses know what I vent. Know what I meant. Know what I spent. Snow behind it. No one mind it. Ch A R L E S Hamilto-n. I end.

(hook)

I feel like a dungeon slut in the palm of your hand. 

That makes me feel like

Supernothing.

That makes me feel like

Supernothing.

^
^
^
T.H.E. (The Hamilton Experience)

Be right with you.

~#~

jealous of you…

 

I literally have been focusing on NOT talking/referring to you. But we got it like that with each other, and I know you’re looking. 

So here’s some eye candy.

Sometimes when I see you on your adventures, I can’t help but wonder if you think of me. You’re wearing all the high-end stuff, collaborating with dreams unmet, being asked questions that MUST illicit SOME kind of thoughts about me. The soul tie says you want to spill the beans and proclaim Hamiltonization. The come down from such says you’re content.

I made a crucial decision today. I won’t tell you what it is, because I… well, no one deserves to know, the way I feel about it. But I’m going forth with a career, I chose MUSIC over MONEY… AGAIN. This time, I have experience and my own fortitude to back me up. I know that I am making things easier for myself by taking this pay cut. And on the bright side, I know I did the right thing. I took an Ethics course in college; there is a such thing as a moral compass.

As of now, I can kiss being an eligible bachelor the fuck goodBYE. I ejaculated in two Jamaican women, so a half-Jamaican half-Hamilton stable may be in effect. At this point, I’m building and adding to a legacy designed to simply help them hold their head up with pride. Mom is gone, but she has no reason not to be proud. Same with unc and grandma. I am the first Hamilton OR Moorer to make a million dollars from their craft. I wish dad was more proud. I’m the HIM of music. My aunties are proud, my baby cousins are proud, my BIG COUSIN SHAYLA IS PROUD… money can’t buy that.

Yo. If I make another million, I’m gonna invite my dad to come visit. If he says his proud of me, I’m never speaking to him again. Yet, that’s just my rage talking. He just doesn’t like hip-hop. Says he doesn’t understand it. If he only knew I am of an elite class of MCs/lyricists/producers…

Money. It’ll help me at this very moment, but will piss me off in the foreseeable future.

Great talkin’ to ya!

~#~

(note: unc and grandma aren’t dead)