As Hatemas draws nearer I'm having more and more difficulty abstaining from all human contact which is my only known method of maintaining my composure. I find myself around people who insist on saying "merry Christmas" when we part company. Seriously, when I hear it I just look at them quizzically as the thought, "are they fuckin' with me?" runs through my head. Then I realize that they're serious, that they don't know about nor would they understand my intense hatred of this holiday, and I have to belatedly murmur something in return. Oh Hatemas! Just let this foul charade end!

Drunk...as...a skunk. And I still couldn't say it better.

Just face it
I blaze shit
your shit is basic
my shit is matrix
make you erase shit
niggers won't say shit
but DJs you aint shit
'cause you don't play shit
unless it's that gay shit.
I'm strait off the slave ship
My style is ancient.
I'm rich and I'm famous
I'm all, I'm dangerous.
I came with that language
it's mad, it's brainless
you studied at Cambridge
I'm fuckin' you main bitch.
Plus, my ebonics is full of gin and tonic
erotic, yea you got it
hypnotic, plus psychotic.
After nine eleven
niggers got patriotic
on nine twelve
I'm like, "fuck it nigger play some chronic."
Call nine eleven,
then call your reverend,
then call heaven,
"Here I come Lord!"
Live by the gun,
die by the gun,
an eye for an eye
when you live and die by the sword.


That's fucking Ice Cube (Don Mega) on the new Westside Connection CD. So...fucking good! Get it!