God, I’m not sure of you existence -

But won’t call you out your name as insurance

But in case you are there and I’m not aware -

I won’t blaspheme -

I’m Ballbeam, the Big Sauce Handsome hand grenade Rob

The Ishmael Reed of MC’s - so far out - that my writings

Enticing to June Tyson -

My real is surreal when I cobra cuddle

No recoil clutch a microphone - meet the new Ted Joans

Been that -

Will be that -

Stay that -

Abstract - use my head for more than a hat rack

Tryin to reach my cloud -

Taking the stairs I’m above it -

Lord of everything my light touches - Mr. NightFall

Mr. Wack never that always forever extratalest -

W/ that drop dead fresh

It’s when I close my eyes ‘til I rise - no 9 to 5 -

My burdens I’m too fly - I belong in the sky -

My drip add water you DROWN you flood w/ the ferocity of a

Leaky faucet

Savagely speaking - if I’m wrong, then who’s right?

Creatively lawless - the God you can touch w/ text

Slay then raise from the grave in 3 days

I’m Jesus - my hot rod is a T-Rex

Preying on minds fatalistic artillery articulate

Words vivid - like staring out a windowsill

To these flavorless - bland as water

Room temperature tepids -

Y’all got yellow teeth and rock waves

Cause you spent more time brushing the wrong shit -

I can’t ride that wave - so much for priorities

A crowbar dislodged your soul from your body -

Each tic of the clock has become your foe -

I’ll admit, though - that you’ve got gusto in your pursuit

Of failed ambition - y’all fell off like Tumblr -

After the porn restrictions -

I’M FROM NEW YORK WHERE THEY SPREAD LOVE LIKE BEDBUGS

To a mind swaddled in squalor -

Tryin to explain the concept of time to a toddler -

Time, a measure of duration linear -

This is the termination of your linear duration -

Laid in waste your dreams in debris -

Vivid in 3D - when I’m feeling indecisive -

I tie a chain around a rapper’s neck -

Tie the other end around a pole -

Then drive as fast as I can go -

Throw the decapitated head into the air -

Yell heads or tails -

Somehow, it always lands on heads, I suppose -

You a whimper trying to whisper futile in the ear

Of a brazen blaze - don’t burn

Sweeter than plum wine you bitch macho benign

Washed up - you a wash cloth

The passenger pigeon who flew into a fan -

He’s duck sauce

I’M FROM NEW YORK WHERE THEY SPREAD LOVE LIKE BED BUGS

Santa going out of business because of abortion -

That type of bullshit -

Santa doesn’t exist

You twit -

Roses are red -

Smurfs are blue -

They ran out of glitter glue and can’t shine like you

Failed miracle -

Trust exercise distressed trauma

In a Costco

Soggy urine stained thong -

A dead shark for a bong -

A tea kettle makes better songs -

Gloatingly as that

Shitbag Zimmerman signing autographs on a pack

Of Skittles despicable -

Mike Vick as Dr. Doolittle -

Happy Negro -

Shackled by zeros -

To do the bidding of status quo

Even if I play quiet on tippy toes

Everywhere I go -

An apocalypse follows -

Slipped into the beat like a kimono

I’M FROM NEW YORK WHERE THEY SPREAD LOVE LIKE BED BUGS

Abused crews in a theme park of pain

Measured in mass put-weight on the name -

I radiate my own sun -

Foraging graves to raise a calvary -

This Night Amok

No clemency -

It means nothing to me -

To shit on MC’s -

Over crowds - I’m a circus performer

On the trapeze -

W/ diarrhea