Returned Call

I’m so tired… I’ve barely slept up in tha last two days, n' when I do I tend ta raise up all tha time from some bizarre trip dat I can never like remember.

Dr. M (not divulgin his wild lil' full name fo' obvious reasons) was ill enough ta give mah crazy ass a cold-ass lil call back earlier todizzle. I should have freestyled dis sooner as mah memory is far from fresh n' tha lack of chill certainly aint helpin yo, but our crazy-ass asses had a horny-ass conversation nonetheless.

Dude holla'd dat Matt was one of tha worst casez of PTSD he had peeped up in recent history, especially cuz of tha turnaround time from what tha fuck he called "the trigger event" ta tha state dat Matt was in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dr. M wasn’t tha physician up in charge of Matt yo, but he had hit dat shizzle wit his ass on a gangbangin' few occasions, includin upon his thugged-out arrival ta tha hospizitizzle. Below is mah attempt ta retrieve our conversation from mah memory:

Dr. M: "Dude looked awful. I mean, it just looked as if tha pimp hadn’t slept up in a week yo. His medicinal examination flossed dat he had no physical reason dat would prevent his ass from bustin lyrics, so our crazy-ass asses attempted ta git his ass ta communicate fo' some time. One of tha orderlies mentioned dat a funky-ass blank journal was included up in his belongings, so I decided ta try ta bust it as a funky-ass bit of a cold-ass lil conversation starter. I axed his ass thangs like ‘is dis yours?,’ ‘what do these marks mean?,’ n' tha like yo, but he didn’t respond. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All he did was gently raise his hand n' hold it up ta take tha book yo. Dude straight-up gently opened it n' done cooked up a gangbangin' freestylin motion, so I gave his ass one of mah pencils."

LR: "And at dis point, tha book was blank?"

Dr. M: "Yes, barrin tha silver markings on tha spine. Da cover had some wear on it, as if it had been hit by a funky-ass blade at a gangbangin' few points but not straight-up cut all up in yo, but it was as freshly smoked up as you could expect any book like dat outta Iraq ta be."

LR: "I see, sorry ta interrupt."

Dr. M: "Not at all yo. Dude fuckin started ta draw what tha fuck looked like a egg. It ended up bein tha head of tha figure and whatever he was drawin yo, but he spent what tha fuck seemed like a hour carefully drawin tha head n' basebizzle cap of dat muthafuckin thang yo. Dude paused fo' a moment n' then started furiously scribblin all over tha page yo. Dude at first seemed ta be bustin it almost artfully yo. Dude would occasionally quit n' bust his wild lil' fingers ta smudge tha lines a funky-ass bit, n' then continue. Whenever any line and smudge intruded on dat egg dat looked like a head, he would immediately quit n' erase tha fraction within it before continuin along his way. Da intensitizzle wit which he scribbled slowly increased until he seemed just incredibly panicked n' started tearin all up in tha page wit strokez of tha pencil fo' realz. At dat point I grabbed tha book n' tried ta tell his ass ta calm down yo, but when he just continued I pulled tha book outta his hand n' he just froze, starin at mah crazy ass like I had broken some trizzle."

LR: "And you decided ta continue rockin tha book even afta that?"

Dr. M: "That was Dr. W--’s decision. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I believe he came back ta it since Matt simply shut his dirty ass off as far as communication went, n' dat was tha closest our crazy-ass asses could git ta a response outta his muthafuckin ass."

I axed his ass how tha fuck ta git ahold of Dr. W yo, but now I’m not so shizzle I wanna know mo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this!Da mo' I dig tha fuck into this, even afta just a gangbangin' few days, tha mo' uncertain I be dat it’s a phat idea. I can barely believe dat Matt is gone, n' here I be lookin tha fuck into essentially what tha fuck led his ass ta bust a cap up in his dirty ass. What’s straight-up stickin up in mah mind is dat Dr. M once done cooked up a reference ta tha "rather… unique way up in which he passed on." I don’t wanna know what tha fuck dat even means yo, but mah mind is whirlin wit possibilities.

Second Page

And tha second page:

Da stick figure aint too hard ta pick up yo, but dis is tha beginnin of his obsession on what tha fuck apparently is trees. Yo ass can obviously peep tha tree there as well as a spider-like bush and somethang fo' realz. Any ideas what tha fuck tha muthafuckin thang on tha muthafuckin right is other than just a sunburst on tha remainin hole up in tha page?

Also I noticed dat all of tha lines dat was done cooked up when tha pencil cut all up in tha page he used up in his thugged-out lil' picture. I left a message fo' tha doctor dat was treatin him, so hopefully I can learn a funky-ass bit mo' than I already knew bout tha notebook n' how tha fuck they used dat shit.

First Page

Figured I should throw dis up before I go ta bed as a sort of idea of what tha fuck you’re lookin at. It looks rather frantically made, ta tha point dat tha pencil muthafuckin cut all up in tha paper up in a gangbangin' few spots. I also swear ta god that’s a head bustin a hat yo, but dat don’t exactly jive wit tha rest of tha "body."

Weird Shizzle

I haven’t been up in exactly tha dopest of vibes lately… To give tha backstory up in brief, a phat playa of mine went over ta Iraq up in February fo' realz. As a partin gift, I gave his ass a ill big-ass Moleskine journal ta take notes up in n' such. I accidentally gave his ass tha unlined version, which was just a mistake cuz Matt couldn’t draw ta save his thuglife fo' realz. Anyhow, I found up last month he was caught up in a ambush up in early July n' wound up wit some straight-up post-traumatic stress disorder, n' had been at a menstrual hospizitizzle since.

Yo ass may be wonderin why I’m just ramblin bout dis ta a crew of approximately no one on tha internizzle. I’m gettin there.

Matt took a dirt nap July 30 yo. Dude apparently capped his dirty ass, although I didn’t ask fo' details, n' at dis point I don’t be thinkin I’d straight-up want them. I found up on August 1st cuz tha hospizitizzle gave mah crazy ass a cold-ass lil call, since apparently there was somethang he wanted mah crazy ass ta have. I gots dis up in tha mail todizzle:

Sure enough, that’s tha moleskine I gave his muthafuckin ass. Da staff I was rappin too, I’m not straight-up shizzle what tha fuck his thugged-out lil' posizzle was, holla'd I was straight-up welcome ta not have it busted ta me, since he wasn’t legally bound ta up in any way yo. Dude warned mah crazy ass dat it might be somewhat disturbin cuz of what tha fuck was inside.

Matt never was rappin a single word since tha ambush fo' realz. Apparently he held on ta tha journal n' attempted ta bust it ta communicate, n' tha hospizitizzle staff tried ta work it tha fuck into his cold-ass therapy. Through a cold-ass lil combination of tones n' implications I gathered dat I was essentially receivin tha journal of a madman. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But he wasn’t a madman ta me, he was just Matt ta mah dirty ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I holla'd of course I wanted dat shit.

Matt had never freestyled and drawn up in tha book prior ta goin ta tha hospizitizzle yo, but he had apparently used it fo' somethang else before then:

I’m 90% shizzle dat if you count each tally as bein a week, dis would add up ta how tha fuck long he had been away from home before his hospizitizzleization.

That’s tha straight-up original gangsta page. I obviously edited up mah full name n' address. But as far as I can tell, dis is how tha fuck tha doctors knew dat he wanted mah crazy ass ta have tha notebook fo' realz. After all, what tha fuck else could tell em dat if he never spoke?

I’ve flipped all up in tha book n' there is a looooot of sketches n' tha like yo, but dopest as I can tell, dis is tha only place dat he muthafuckin freestyled anythang up in any coherent form. There is a gangbangin' few disturbingly ominous statements like "I SAW HIM" n' tha ilk yo, but dis was tha only example of a gangbangin' straight-up formed thought I could find anywhere.

Anyhow, I find dis a cold-ass lil combination of incredibly wack n' interesting, so I’m throwin em up on tha interweb up in hopes dat other gangstas might at least find em horny-ass as well n' some phat can come outta this, rather than mah crazy ass just sit here n' stew over everythang. I’ll be addin pics as I have time.

This is what happens...

Guess what, muthafucka! Sometimes I stay up late n' fo' some reason feel like I have somethang horny-ass ta say. Most gangstas would just go ta chill at dis point, cuz our crazy-ass asses all know dat no one is straight-up horny bout what tha fuck our crazy-ass asses have ta say at three up in tha morning. I, however, decided ta cook up a funky-ass blog. I be bloggin like a muthafucka up in dis biatch. I’m pretty shizzle dis has happened before, n' it always followed dis pattern:

1. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Stay up late.
2. Make blog. I be bloggin like a muthafucka up in dis biatch.
3. Go ta chill.
4. Make two posts over tha next few months.
5. Wonder why I done cooked up B-ta-tha-L-O-Gizzay n' delete dat shit.

Will dis time be any different, biatch? Dunno.

Does it matter, biatch? Nope.

Guess what, muthafucka! So how tha fuck on some lil content fo' dis post, aye?

I recently gots a ghettofab freshly smoked up watch, which was technologically mah gift fo' graduatin from High School.

I just finished mah sophomore year of college.

I certainly ludd it, n' be thinkin it can look like dope close-up. With tha aid of thaTiltShift Generator, I spiffied em up a funky-ass bit more:

 

Da blasted of tha bottom inner makin movess is like obviously currently servin as tha header of dis joint.

Anyhow, dis is mostly mah crazy ass just rambling…  We’ll peep if dis muthafuckin headz anywhere borderline interesting…