Tourism

I addressed you (anonymously) on my X page, but for all I went through in the last 15+ years, I deem it necessary to continue.

For the longest time, I fought for the attention and affection of a big-named-yet-nameless relative. If only to vindicate his private hazing of me. It was when it impacted my MUSIC that I went psycho. I already didn't trust him because of how I was introduced to him and the circumstances surrounding it. His music would APPEAR to value me, but it was littered with talk of his own worth and aspirations of such.

Mom and I were poor.

So when I picked up the pen, he and his quasi-wealthy ass became the target of my "generic" punchlines. I fucked around and achieved a level of success, in spite of an industry-ending incident. He comes around, and convinces grandma and uncle that he needs to be there to protect me. Subsequently, he moves in, and proceeds to clean house.

Only problem was, there wasn't much to be cleaned.

HchO took the MPC (I used to master ThisPerfectLife), Saintvil took the Jordan's and Penny's Pharrell bought for me, Woody lived with us rent free until dude asked him to leave (THROUGH ME)... I wasn't allowed to smoke weed (supposedly my lawyer and the label wanted to drug test me; never happened)... original music was remixed, much to the dismay of said relative who was "personally invested"...

It just... was a bunch of bullshit.

Now, I'm not marred by any of this. I'm still making music on a high level, as you can see I'm still blogging, my faith and belief in the alien race SEGA is stronger than EVER before... I just remember vividly what the streets did to me. I wasn't looking for trouble then, not looking for it now. But I was at war with this man. Still, in the midst of this war, I realized something: for every time I go off on him for free, he doesn't mention or acknowledge me and gets paid for it! Breaking down the disproportion would give it all away. But I been giving it all away to break down the disproportion.

"However, God help me."

#CH

The follow-down

So yeah. 36 hours of The Hamiltonization Process and the finest LA weed. I am left speechless. One song from this era that left me cold and full of tears was "Honesty Box", off #Intervention. It ate at me, because I only really converse with 2 of my "niggas" from that song's era. And who I wanted to share the glory of being a signed recording artist, I inevitably did, but it was almost too late.

I have no problem investing into the crafts of my loved ones. I was gonna buy one of my homies and SP 404, because of his admiration of one DiBia$e. Not that the notion would go unrecognized or un-reciprocated, but I have worthy investments I can make on myself to make me as much of a champion as I see them.

You can't get mad at me for that, *drKiwi*.

I had a good time with the music I introduced you to me with. Now that I can look back with red eyes of green, I know I left you with good grooves and good vibes. That's more than what's being offered, anywhere else. Maybe my vibes got a little more spiteful and "catty" (I don't think anyone is as sexy as me, despite how ugly I feel), but it's all coming from a genuine, regal place.

How I feel about me should only hurt those hoping to take advantage.

I'll be around.

#CzH

#phenomenal

You're welcome!

Fuck!

So today, starting at around 7am PST, I decided to listen to The Hamiltonziation Process high. I never did it before. Dead ass.

And...

Fuck!

You're welcome!

I didn't realize I went this hard. I can dead see why so many want me to go back to that mode/zone/grind. As I listen to "Keep It Up" (from #SubstanceAbuse), I BELIEVE I can do it. Yet the beat is calling for a NON-written ass whoopin'. Which is kinda what I was talking about. Believing in myself enough to get in the booth WITHOUT something to lean on (lyrically). Even with that in the eggshell, this is some of the best music I've even heard. I shedded several tears, laughed my ass off, got tight... this is an experience.

Rivera said something to the effect of, "don't ask for belief, do what you KNOW". And I felt that. I just know that 99% of ...at least America, is being raped into believing ...what there is to believe in. From Trump to Kirk. RIP Chuck Norris, by the way. I call myself softening the blow of doubt. One thing I learned from my Interscope experience is, if it can be doubted, it can be outed. Sometimes, it's like my music is so unbelievable it's not real. And I know how hard I work. 

I just want to be believed in.

So I can break this streak of letting people down.

But, here we go

I didn't let my mother down, my dad is proud, grandma's proud, uncle's proud, my aunties are proud, my baby cousins are proud, my nieces and nephews brag about me... my exes kick rocks, my bullies are on rocks... I have nothing to prove. And Rivera, as critical as he can be, has become one of my best friends, I kinda want him to ONLY gloat about me. Same with Howe (Drew). Howe and Rivera, the *jersey* names of my 2 longest -Chasers. 

So many of y'all.

And many of y'all came from music I hadn't indulged in(to), HIGH.

I remember being at CATS (Cleveland) and walking around Downtown Cleveland listening to Intervention. I could feel the young people who listened to it. I just wasn't high. #Intervention on weed is better than The Pink Lavalamp. It even has a Sha-leik beat on there. smh I did my big one w that.

I don't even need to get into the paralysis I felt during the first #StH. Awesome.

I didn't fall off.

I switched my style and target.

In fact, I can compare my 2012-present music to "TheSuperNaturalVacation", in that the 2 people I was talking to in the song (LITERALLY) were the topics of the song. Dead talking TO the targets. THE SAME 2 PEOPLE!!! A pair of *drKiwis* if I ever seen 'um.

But it's love.

The Hamilton Starship travels on...

Digital incentives, courtesy of Miss Kiwi!!!

#CH

Mom and jesus

Shouldn't come as a mystery, but I spent Mom's birthday with .. well, Mom. I acknowledge the power of Magic and God is real. But... in my several brief conversations with Mom, she said something profound:

Try Jesus.

I didn't know what she meant. I thought ...yeah, I mean I didn't know what she meant. So I asked God. In but so many words, he said that Jesus was sent to take the punishment of all sinners. That the next time I want to crash out, mentally OD on Jesus. Every time I get an H craving, mentally inject Jesus into your arm/snort Jesus.

These past few days have been Jesustoxicated.

I believe I said it earlier this year (and I been good at keeping my word), but this year focuses on my instrumentals. I spent from 2021-2025 rebuilding myself on the microphone. The beats have been dope, but they all have a haste to them. They can stand to be more refined. I mean, I'm confident in them, but I was making beats to instantly destroy. Not make records to.

I got some good news recently about my financial status. This could curb my appetite for a deal. It would have to be EXTREMELY lucrative and on am unheard of trust level. This opportunity is a blessing, and I dont want to lose out by being greedy.

God knows my heart.

The Lord knows my talent.

Jesus knows my rage. But I'm not done with him.

Aliens are real.

They are SEGA (word to Yakuza).

Nintendo is also real.

Under the government of G.U.N. and the Reptilian race.

Atari is me,

in that I can find myself, my addiction and a long legged-woman.

Apple and Microsoft (each) stole Earth from Nintendo. 

With this knowledge, what will you do?

Yikes!

Jesus or *drKiwi*?

#CH

The 11th year

 It's been 11 years since mom departed. Nothing has been the same since. Her birthday is tomorrow. St. Patrick's Day (for those keeping score). Maybe it's her luck that she left this earth before the robots took over (not a shot at Daft). Whatever it is, I am now ashamed of my rage towards my mother.

She truly did love my music. 

I remember conversations we've had about my music's development. The advice she gave has lasted longer than the phases and trends we've seen. I also think her having me in church protected me from some bullshit. She always gave me my props, as far as being an organist. 

And... the thing? She saw me get down in the studio. Now, when you wrap a session (artists and producers), you fill out a session sheet. This itemizes everything you did in the studio. She signed off as the producer. I was hot, but it's true. Mom produced "Graceful Wishes (feat. Kendall Morgan)" and "Body Suit (feat. CYoung)". I took direction, rocked the mic, and graced the keys. George Massa (Spits!) got credit for his guitar and bass work. 

I saw mom get down in the studio. 
She didn't have to strum a string or touch a pencil.

Mom was the GOAT.

^
^
^
Enjetic! Where we at?! Blast this joint off!

feel it.

*SUPER!*

A boy's dream

Being honest... frank... candid... it was never my dream to be Sonic the Hedgehog. It was my reality. I lived as Sonic. YEARS before The Pink Lavalamp. YEARS before Halo. It was a quiet understanding amongst my peers and elder folk that I was Broadway's Sonic (the Hedgehog). I even ran across the street when going to the store for mom. 

So no, as much as I love Sonic, I didn't want to be him.

My dream was to be Dr. Robotnik.

I wanted to express my intelligence freely and with recognition. Red and black are my favorite colors (surprise, surprise!), but I'm not a Blood, and on the block I lived on, only Bloods wore red and black. So no Jordan jersey for me...

But yeah. Being Dr. Robotnik allows me to create more (charmingly) diabolically and take the necessary losses to be considered a "boss". 

Many StarChasers weren't open to the idea, when I dropped "The Rise of Dr. Robotnik". "StH: American Paradox", however, was well-received. And yes, "StH: Inner Peace" exists. At least instrumentally. Still, I don't like the feeling of being controlled. My ancestors, from SEGA to Africa to Mauritius to Egypt to Ireland, fought long and hard to maintain freedom. Sonic submits control to the gamer, under the gauze that the gamer will take them to victory. 

Dr. Robotnik stands in the way.

I am currently in an identity crisis. As you can see, I broke down my multiple personality disorder by recording under different variations of my name. There are still more to come. But in my creativity, I got taken out of myself (ala Shadow the Hamilton) and became... a greater being (shouts to CYoung). I invested in it, and now I am CONFIDENT that this greater creation of self is un-fuck-withable. 

But. I didn't stop there.

With the money I made through features, I made another investment. This time, SEGA is in the crosshairs. I believe that I can be the musical director of ALL SEGA games and products. Nintendo made several LUCRATIVE offers, but I'm loyal to the blue and white. Won't lie tho, it's getting harder to say no. And with my first investment (that took me out of myself; ala Shadow the Hamilton), Nintendo is set to have a moment in The Sun. Shouts to and Rest In Peace shouts to Super Mario. 

He is survived by his younger brother Luigi.

Billionaire Dre, Royally Roy and I are investing in this studio album. Where they got the funds from doesn't matter. Especially since I was able to pitch in last minute. But I invested in my career and creative process. I did this in 2020 (during the pandemic), and the results remain: you can say you don't know me, but your retina tells another tale. 

No longer is it "write!". It's "do your thing, we trust you". Sure, people miss the stylings that come with writing. Well, it ain't there anymore. I guess time eroded at the fantasy I provide with a pen. I speak from the heart, as filtered by my mind, and guided by my soul. At the end of the day, I'm not gonna sit back and lick my wounds just because I can come up with some slick lines that people can put a hashtag behind. I'm gonna fight back, and invite you to watch.

Morningside Park, anytime after 8pm.
Except... I'm not there anymore.

And I'm not looking for trouble.

Just looking to express my intelligence... as a boss.

Like Miss Kiwi!!!

#cHamEra...

*drKiwi*'s ambition

A few *drKiwis* have popped up lately. Today's clientele said both of our mental healths were at risk, and I chose me over *-wi*. A light case, I guess. But I only did such due to a lack of trust. I ignored all the signs, and felt that sh*-i* was looking for me to du something (#iykyk #6ix). As opposed to what was present, which was my suspicion of *Kiwi's* loyalty. 

Flat out, I didn't know who *drKiwi* was.
And in this day and age, with SEGA Aliens running EVERYTHING and Nintendo Reptilians EXTORTING everything, you never know who could be using temptation as a bait to get your private information.

I have since learned that preparing a presentation for The Worship of The Sun (yours truly) is the actual definition of evil. Evil will not live past that day. The darkness shall be illuminated. The Illuminati will be enlightened. The Lights (hint) will shine.

*drKiwi* has something they'd like to reveal to me, in front of the ENTIRE GALAXY. I don't know how it would be worth it for them, and I see past myself everyday. So what gives? 

I can't lie.
I know I can't.

Why do I pretend like *drKiwi* doesn't bother me?

And before anyone gets wild about it, just chill. they may not even matter by the end of this post.

They don't.

End of post. Got an all-nighter ahead in the community center. You'll peep the benefits.

#CH_letsgo!

One eye open (CLE)

Late last year, I started working on a record called "Cleveland Rocks". It featured my baby cousin Spazzo CLE and StarChaser Xavier Bennet. It's sampled the second version of The Drew Carrey Show's theme song. Xavier is a traditional StarChaser, in that, though he supports me, he always has some flip shit to say to make me feel like less of a being.

In his verse, he said "we got LeBron, we don't need no Michael". Before I moved to NYC (age 5), CLE used to call me Michael. As in Jackson. I was always musically inclined, and the Universe of East Cleveland knew it. I called Spaz and said "he ain't from Old Cleveland, because he would get his ass beat". Spaz agreed. My verse was fire, but only after Spaz convinced me not to talk about the pain of Cleveland.

It wasn't easy.

Cleveland is so beautiful. So the ugly shit I went through can be seen as a one off. But word to my cousin Shayla, finding intimacy in Cleveland AS Baby Charles/Michael/Jr. is a TRIP. Nevertheless, i got a hand job from Scooter's baby mom. Lol

And me and Miss Jackie! went at it! Lol I swear I love that girl. That's a StarChaser for real. A music lover that knows the depth of my music, yet still manages to be impressed. I try not to sleep w Female StarChasers, but when passion calls, answer.

Back to Cleveland.

I don't like calling the Indians the "Guardians", but I'll be damned if they ain't talking about George, Dilla and Jack. Fuck Jack, but y'all 3 niggas changed my life by being with me. I'ma need y'all to get clear with 9 (The Universe) about where y'all stand with me. 9 believes I'm all alone, following behind the coolest mu'fuckas on campus. I'm pretty cool myself... solid, even and rather... but I would love to spend my days with the boys. Jack always made it weird for us. Either he would say or do some psycho homo shit, or he would sell one of us short. He tries to be nice to me, but only because #thegame requires it.

That's the shit I be talkin' about, #CitizensOfHeart.

Cleveland is a VERY loving city. We embrace you, until you hurt us. I mean, we're the city of The Dawgs. Granted the Browns they speak of are Bandicoots. Loving, but VERY conservative. I'm sure Cleveland won't shun me for "gettin' it in" a few times, but... just to be clear, I will ride w my Cleveland brothers until the wheels fall off, and I will devour any Cleveland Chick who dares test the libido of #ScootersFirstGirlfrind.

Sucks to say, but it is what it is.

I love you, Cleveland.
I love you, Hamilton Family.

As long as we're in each other's heart(s), we will never be apart.

Word to Senior.

I just drenched my soul into #MissKiwi's heart. I wonder what's next for *drKiwi* and #TheBlackDrRobotnik...

A lot I gotta do today. I'll be around.

~~***~~

Why my eye-to-eyes (LA)

Living in LA is tricky. I can't bum it too much, because there are always in me. Im a public figure, and LA knows that. In fact, LA knows I'm shy, anxious, nervous, horny and subduing my rage. At the same time, you get fly and have to worry about getting robbed (i live in South Central). I don't wear chains and jewels, but I wear particular colors. Specifically purple and green. Apparently those are Vicelord colors.

Granted I was cool w them niggas, each time I was locked up.

Back to LA.

I look at some of these young tough niggas like, "I can turn yo little ass out!". I know how far things can get. First hand. I'm trying to keep control of things, but once you do ONE gay thing, you go through a degeneration of self. You basically melt.

God blessed me with grace. I stopped the emotional internal bleeding. To God be the glory! I was given a second chance at ministry (without it being Gospel, per se). I don't squander my second chance. I spaz on the mic like I will fall out of myself if I don't.

LA is VERY good at Satanic art(s). Because of this, they are VERY "fast" (as Black mothers say). It's hard to ask them to beat with me. They make me feel pornographically good. But right when I get comfortable, I spot one of the Boyz in the Hood, and they don't want to be looked at while they take over the bus.

My dick would fit GOOD in they ass. That'll fix em.

I just don't have the heart to say that. Out here, especially. I don't look for problems. I know my mouth, and I know my hands. It's like that. However, out here, niggas go from hands to handguns w the QUICKNESS. So I nod to them, they nod back, and we keep it pushing.

Whether they know/love me or not, I have a destination to reach.

See you in the future.

I love LA!

SOUTH CENTRAL, WHERE WE AT??

#cHamEra......

Eye-to-eye w/ Jamaica

Yardie PEOPLE! Lol for the non-Hamiltonized Jamaican massive, when I address Jamaica/Jamaicans on a #galactical scale, I usually start with "Yardie PEOPLE!". It's a flip of "tell di people!", heard in the Dawn Penn chune dem. 

Here we are. Or, may we start here. We know each other WAY better than we can attest to. That's why we keep a distance. I think, at least. I know Tiffany (my first Jamaican ex) doesn't hate me. She kinda doesn't have a reason to, other than my confession to a homosexual act. If she even remembers that (no innuendos). But, dead that.

I got it in.

Now, being the suicidal being I've been and learning that homosexuality led/leads to a spiritual death, I was prepared to burn by the fire. But, quite literally, God forgave me and is being glorified in my modern music. Through blasphemy.

I am a D'Evil, fah cryin out loud!

 Even with me playing man-from-Mars with you (ask about it; real one's know), I still believe that you know my heart and, even still (and better), my body. I'm not promiscuous, neither hetero-nor-homosexually. I haven't had sex in a good number of years now. Divine punishment. I dare ask for the favor of the Jamaican woman, in the eye of the Jamaican man. I simply ask that you understand that Jah (yes, Lion!) is working with me and I am actively working on my mannerisms.

I have learned sooo much from Jamaican music/culture. Toya and I used to watch Passa Passa DVDs. HchO put me on to soundclashes. Though I am a C (Charles), I'm a J, too (Jr.)!. So it really matters to me what yu think of me. I know it shouldn't, but y'all are closest to divinity by nature. Do your homework on Jamaican culture. Better yet, ask SEGA about Jamaica.

Through Jamaica, I find Atari.

Ask Dr. Dre.

If she even remembers that (no innuendos). But, dead that.

***beep***

Eye-to-eye w/ Harlem

We've come a long way, haven't we #myheart? From bullying bad hazing to representing and promoting, we've watched each other grow and come to terms with each other's "quarks". I have ALWAYS respected your gangsta, and you've accepted me as The Harlem Goth, for much longer than Rocky's Gothic fashion movement (respectfully). Still, there are some things I don't feel we're clear on...

No way to sugar coat this, I am a rape victim. Not just from the industry either, but it didn't help. No, I was sexually assaulted by my older male cousin. Since then, my concept of sex and affection is... well, distorted. Perverted, even. I am overly affectionate towards ANY woman who would give me the time of day, and overly cautious of EVERY male. Both of which can be a "flag" of homosexuality, I am aware. I just don't like the feeling of anal penetration, and I'm more intrigued by than attracted to men.

Basically Harlem, I've said some homo ass, sick ass stuff in my music. Maybe for shock, but the notion of speaking the sickness to gain peace and clarity is defended by the mental health system that's trying to "curb" my "enthusiasm" (I SEE YOU SPITS!!!). I understand that the mental conditioning of "pause" and "no homo" is meant to keep the Black Man's mental pure, but mine got deleted VERY early on. And from there, I moved RIGHT into the homophobic warzone of Harlem (granted Queens first).

I can't offer you an apology. I didn't say anything to demean/disrespect Harlem. I'm just from The Old Harlem, where saying too many pause-worthy things will get you exiled. I guess I just want your understanding (Harlem). I'm not out here selling my ass or turning tricks, I'm not in a gang out here... nothing wack. I just fight tears when a male shows reverence to me/my music and when a female gets caught staring.

In that sense, nothing's changed. I just miss home, and don't want to alienate where I'm at. The real will feel me.

Miss Kiwi, Calendar Girl of The Year (2026)!!!

#cHam