Cloud Room Manifesto

It have my nose running like bad ass kids ‘round old school family parties/sweetie’s bubble tush painted my eyes stained glass lush fantasies played by the smokey exhale bonged out on bubble kush/ vivid translations of reality unedited, unloaded, and unfuckwitable/to quote Allan Jones/nigga I can’t see it/B who I be kidding M-I be easy I stay crushed dawn till dusk/tight brown sweaters /hella heavy on top refined professional swing printed on jean back pockets/if life was the mic/Miz would be in vocal booths building ciphers within scriptures holding the L too long/get a frame nigga take a picture/No, I don’t know none of ya’ll niggaz, yeah we chilled a few miles & got tatted off bless/but to truly know someone is Co-D-ing scared knees from their struggle/can’t get close to a nigga like me cuz back stabbing bullet proof walls are perpetually under construction /with a blurry eyed foreman who stays tron tronned up dealing truth about buildings I may never see again/Pork chop Davis soap box sharing visions of dream travel from gentrified Columbia Street to revitalized 1-6-1/plus other places on the map we soon to see/could I be anymore Stokely Carmichael/black fist pick reference introduced by Chandler Bing/looking for a few weeks/sunny skies & a pound to crush/still can’t see the Divine in me/from birth I’ve been bathed in the sinner’s misery