Come
take the court.
Yo the banana peels are carefully placed. So keep
your shell toes carefully laced. The illest NGH got
peppered and maced. Now amplify this. Turn up
the bass. And think about it.
CHAPTER 16
Picture me, lampinâ in the company car. Rims
like Tibetan prayer wheels. NGH WHT? Iâm
a star. I cruise the block like a feather back and
forth âtil I land as the song in your ear or the
book in your hand. Now the whole fuckin world
âbout to know who I am.
Got your whole system up in my trunk. That âdog
eat dogâ make my woofers bark: atomic crunk All
my trill NGHs know who be bringin da funk. Lees
and shell toes like itâs Black History Month.
CHAPTER 17
Son of a vortex. African roots. That chicken foot
hex. Binary star NASA canât compute. Linear
complex. Itâs simple. Bloodlines span from
Lalībela temples straight to chitterling minstrels.
Spin it back to the intro.
There was one. Bore witness to the rays of the
sun. Synthesized in her own image. Photo negative.
Shun. The development of Parliament. The phallic
bop gun. Thus, the mother-ship connection spawned
the birth of the drum.
Ancient drum begat drum. Kingdom go. Kingdom
come. Ancient sector of the scepter risen up to the
sun. Hidden hand of man begat patented clone of
the drum. Boom Bap strapped into a wire, tightly
coiled, and re-spun.
Trigger sound. Trigger gun. Drum machine. Machine
gun. Bodies piled. Carefully filed under beats that were
once reprogrammed to become: unplugged concert of
sun. Every ray with sample clearance. Every two begat one.
Boom Bap hard as a gun. White cross-trainers, unstrung.
Let these suckas know the cost of making Harriet run.
Let the North Star be your guiding post when turned
from the sun until knowledge reigns supreme over
nearly everyone.
CHAPTER 18
Check it out now! Check me out now!
I let these MTHRFKRs know what Iâm
about now. And ainât no way no one could
ever play me out now. Because I represent
the present, NGH, right now!
Check it out now! Check me out now! At the
helm of the ship. Shipping out, now! NGH us
angel dust and devout, now! Heaven high as
the sky. Never come down!
CHAPTER 19
Attention: another dimension. Another
complicated twist too twisted to mention.
Another pair of NGH lips tongue-tied to
perfection. Another frame of mind exists
beyond comprehension.
Attention. Fourth realm of ascension.
The absence of tension. A corporate lynching.
Their god is their henchman. And he ainât
just pinching. This NGH bites! And, according
to pictures, this NGH white!
WHT?! Come down SLCTR rum pumpum
pum! Me keeps me tremor in me pocket. Come
and get some! Again! Come down SLCTR rum
pumpum pum! Me keeps me tremor in me pocket.
Come and get some!
Gimme diamond. Gimme gold. Gimme sugar.
Gimme candy. Me wine and me handy and dat
in me panty.
A stoppa! Na issa supa cat manna you a na lingo.
Tell him to come back. Tell him he a murderer. Tell
him mamma womb a she da real carrier. Woman
no a cry a you a no suffer. Tell him come a man
a who a no batter. Have mercy.
CHAPTER 20
Let me mold a guitar of your bodily bazaar.
Strap your tongue, chord your lungs, string
your toes. And bows that precede the rain
shall serpent symphonies in your name.
Mother of countless daughters. The tricks of
time. It is your thrust and grind that defines
us. We are the offspring of your decapitated
head. The bastard sons of Father Time.
Let Saturn be reborn a girl. Let her nurture
her children rather than eat them. Hide them
from our forefathers and the angry ghosts
of X-mas past. Let them be raised away from
the phallic dangers of our times.
Let their secrets remain secrets until we are
ready to cherish them as our own. Nurture
and adore them. The timeless secrets of
creation:
The darkness that yields light. The seed that
bears fruit. The mother that bears the cross
of her fathers and her fathersâ