Still dead.

As "gangsta" as C. Hamilton was, he was a Gothic peace of shit. The gangsta banter was a racist reflection of all of Charles Hamilton's foes. It was HARD, but it left me feeling lifeless. Like I ate a bag of enemy shit.

Don't expect anymore from C., but LOOK FORWARD to CH. 

Just CH.

The hood knows me, the burbs know about me. All for the same, beautiful reason:

Shock, poetry, flow and rhythm. 

In an ironic twist, I found myself getting closer to GOD. Yeah, God has been intervening in my life, in more than just a professional sense. Shit, more than a personal sense, too. I believe I can count on God. Still, I have ties to the darkside. Of which God knows about, and told me to be cautious with. See, the other Devils are caught up in a war amongst themselves. I love the other 3 (there are 4 of us), but one of the 3 is a turncoat. 

No room for that on my spaceship.

Expect CH music soon. God willing.

-so mote it be