So I’ve been bumpin’ Shawn Lov’s Blackout album lately-
Listenin’ to Iron Mike, scratchin’ and fadin’-
And the whole time I’m thinkin’, I hope Iris’ll make it-
Cause it’s Monday, and us open-mikers are gonna be waitin’-
But he ain’t here, he’s missin’, steady dissin’-
Whitey in the car, engine-idling, clenched fist and-
Bangin’ on the dash, wilin’ out, lettin’ loose maad emissions-
Tail-pipe, wind-pipe, menthol smoke seepin’ out the glass, tinted-
Saw the wind rattle his screen-door for an instant-
Then he flinched-ed-
Threw his shit in reverse, right before he whipped it-
Around the corner, straight to Old Bay-
Yo Whitey? Can we kick this off, my friend?
I don’t know, Iris is soft once again-
He got his wrists dislocated, helping a friend~