THIS NEXT SHIT IS SO NASTY…

stand by…

 YOUNG BUCK “Time Piece”

I ride for Buck. That’s my neighbor. We traveled around the Earth together and he’s straight up one of the the fucking realest, G’ist, calculated, completely not giving a fuckest humans I’ve ever kicked it with. I would even go as far to say he taught me a few things in my more formative years about ‘NOT GIVING A SINGLE FUCK, and gassing towards BRAVERY.’

Shout out to my man, Grand Wizard dude-bro Young Buck, Neighbors With Attitude, and my neighbor for life.

 time alone with bun b

 TIME ALONE WITH blake ANDErSON

 FUCK THE POLICE

VICTIMLESS CRIMES…. . . .. .. … .

 SPIRIT IS A MUSCLE

 STRAIGHT MOTHA FUCKIN G…

Google Glass…

 WXWTX2NH

13th Witness and I were invited by the Grand Wizard Dude Bro Bun B to join him in his efforts at his church, where he partnered with Wade Smith to feed turkey dinners to 1,000 families on Thanksgiving Day. The people were varied and gratitude was in the air. We shot the good people cooking, serving and eating, and were completely enveloped in the day of being thankful for what we have, and where we were. Truly blessed and truly based.

Then the next morning, we were off. Bun’s role changed over night from Uncle Bun to the Bun B Trill O.G. He insisted on driving as we meandered through the hoods. From swap meets to record stores and parking lots to wing spots, he showed us Houston like only the people’s mayor could. We ate chicken fried lobster in sweat pants and took in Houston’s finest. We shot everywhere we wanted and the humanoids of Houston had nothing but smiles and open arms, and any time they didn’t, it took a short glance from Bun and we were all back to all good.

With long hugs and replenished supplies we left his warm cultural embrace to head east. With no particular place in mind, we road tripped with exploratory photography as our guide and a rumored, abandoned Six Flags in the still decimated Ninth Ward flood zone of New Orleans in our sights. As we always do, we found it and we threw our fears to the wind. Explore everything is our mantra. We cautiously wanderlusted into what may have been one of my favorite manmade places I’ve ever explored. Climbing rotten roller coasters, avoiding crack head metal scrappers, and stopping every five minutes to pick our jaws up off the ground, 13th and I shared a moment of pure wonderment together, standing below the first drop of the swaying, rusted Batman ride.

And so we saddled the aluminum dragons we rode home. Silently, we clicked through our cameras with rust under our nails and pure astonishment in our hearts, soaring through the dark sky in reflection. Once again, the dusty dude-bros were left with a general sense of American wellness. A caring open heart with a fist ready behind its back. A warm slice of humble American Pie with a ice cold scoop of brash vanilla arrogance on a beautiful porcelain plate. Delicious. UGK for life.

Explore everything. Spirit is a muscle.

 OPEN LETTER

‘I’ve eaten better molly than most rappers will ever dream about.’

How did radio let these screaming idiots ruin both our music and our drug cultures with these retarded mantras. I was at an opening recently, talking about how Andy Warhol was funded by the CIA as part of a “culture war” during the cold war era. Like, the Dark Departments within the Pentagon funded the buying of modern art to set a monetary and thus cultural flag pole.

And it dawned on me, these fuck rappers are terrorists. These screaming fuck boys were hired by the government to infiltrate our culture and ruin it from the inside out. Rap had become too powerful, and too relevant in current American culture. Holy shit the world NEEDS Jay Elelctronica right now….

Anyways. I saw Jay Electronica at SXSW and it made the whole trip. Having tweeted “Drunk by Drunk West” the night before, I was going through the natural emotional rollar coaster of SX, when there he was. A beacon of light in the murky jungles of florescent wrist band hand cuffs, and VIP nooses around their necks. The zombies stumbling from one long line to the next like a pack of undead sheep. The shepard was back, a gleaming smile, a twinkle in his eye, and always with some curious shit to say… My dudebro Jay ELECTBOMBONYA JAY ELECTSTRONGARMYA, JAYELECTFARMKARMA, MY MAN. We hugged liked a war had passed.

So. Anyways, I saw Jay Electronica at SXSW and it made my trip. And all the fuck boys and fuck girls who have any pathetic small-minded hater shit to say, should just eat a short dick off a long cliff, and relax into their mediocre lives. While Jay and his family change the way the conscious animals think about their experience that is being a spirit on a round spinning rock, dead center in the middle of forever.

True Story.

 THE FUCK?

shout out to OKAYPLAYER