Shark Fin Soup - Armand Hammer

Got fireworks going on outside

Roaming candle to the face

Home is a place inside myself, not a physical domicile

Love, hate, indifference, in this space we all float around

China doll crystalline, financiers and cappuccino raw cinnamon

Lines drawn I fill em in

Illin since Rubin and Simmons splitting Sicilians

Unlikely affiliates lemme tell you how it really is

Living off experience

Closet reptilian bitches be my Achilles

Earth girls easy though mostly inferior

Turning brilliant corners, pitching quarters

Put ya money on it

I break em down in installments

Periodicals and volumes hoarded

My footsteps haunted

Dead mans ballys I’m sporting

Flawless

Georgia red clay complected/Crossroads

Gatekeeper posted at the intersection

Coined flows to keep it interesting

My pen arresting

Apex predator sole profession

They vexed

Stunted developments

20 year cycles

Raw deal no embellishment

Im a young old nigga tryna remain relevant

Core elements

Chalk it up to my heritage

They stare incredulous

Tryna Get the scoop like pelicans

You j.v.

niggas better off Pouring beverages

Kick my feet up ‘fore im settled in

Pump tapes out the trunk

Too short

The product sell itself like Newport

Or Al Sharp/Thats New York

The soup shark

Dumplings pork

Mott street noodles out the mouth when I talk

Last call, she poured mine on the house

December 25th, he’s the Grinch, I’m Oscar the Grouch

Magic 8-ball, «all signs point to no»

Chasing waterfalls, his grand summation

«the bitch is a hoe»

What does one say to that?

I sipped the yip with thoughts black

A bad trip like you gotta take the bus back

Wishing he never fucked with it like crack

But if wishes were horses, beggars would ride

And I wouldn’t be here nursing this sucker

Thinking bout getting high, motherfucker

If you nice like that then you better do it live

Dusty loop/heavy bag drums

I’m not from Brownsville

So never had a problem when it came time to run

Rabbi and the Golem

Base clay left to harden in the sun

Mobutu Sese Seko

Kill em all without touching a gun

House made of legos

Throw all the stones you want

Play the wall like they playin techno

Regs in a Phillie blunt

Slaughter Rule/chop the heads off fools who refuse to punt

Duel with the beat

Words measured then cut with teeth

Unspooled into the city’s last payphone

A young Larry Merchant, perched

On the ball of my feet