I got a chance to perform one of my joints while abroad in the UK. It was tremendously extravagant to have been accompanied by my two good mates. This poetry over music thing is starting to grow on me…
“In Chengdu, it’s called
‘Marinating with the Chickens.’ So… ‘Cluck, Cluck’ and go get your wet wipes b*tch!”
– E. Huang
What’s cooking, good looking? From afar you got me shookt, flipped and dipped into a craze of lust. Don’t fuss, and trust that I’m not just looking to bust these * doors… To leave you floored, scorned, n sore. Begging for more, than just muscle spasms. I fathom to give you mental * stimulus… From this rigorous syllabus, you will learn how ridiculously I yearn to see you squirm in love, with me. Persuading thee using this boulder sitting above my shoulders. Heart trying not to smolder and melt at how your bravura is felt. I suppose to slowly disclose how badly I want to rip off your *insecurities… Using my linguistic dexterity, you foresee I wish to kiss your lips. Those between your hypocrisies… I’m being real, no fugazis or forgeries, allow my words to steal and kidnap your feels. The sap leaking out my face-flap is all fact. I seek to hijack the damsel in distress being fed to the wrong mattress. And treat you like a GODDESS because you’re no mistress.