'."""""""""""""""""`. `. ... `. `. /@ `. `. .'"":_ :"""""".'| .'//)/) ` (/)/)).' | .'/)_/"" __ ""\.' ^ | |"""(((""""((("""| | | | "" "" | U | | | High Quality | P .' | Bananas | .' | | .' | |' """""""""""""""" yo hell yeah I’m packin, playuh, them stars ain’t just twinkle they stare, cold glare like dice in the air, space monks ridin dirty in a shuttle held together by prayer-duct-tape and bad credit, trunk full of heat that hum like a hive when the beef get live, each blaster got a name, each monk got a scar from a bar fight with a comet, we don’t plot, we orbit steady, petty, deadly, already sweaty from the hustle, float through the void lookin for a bundle, bananas or bullion we juggle both, peel off profits like old coats, hit that planet down bad, dust kick like old slang, concrete cities made of rust and gang tags from civilizations that already failed, I’m like “yo slime, they got fruit out here?” monk say “yeah, and fools guard it like cash,” bet, mask up, walk through the crowd like basslines in flesh, chest puff, step tough, shoulder checkin androids for respect, found the stand old man sellin bananas like relics, said “one peel’ll buy a future,” I said “how much for the whole past, bruh?” he froze, I pull a heater shaped like a saxophone, hum a tone, stall lights flicker, monks snicker, quick snatch all the stacks and dip slicker than a backroom whisper. we left with no cash but legend in the dash, monks chant low like bass in the ash, I spark another plan, half-smirk, half-mask, “yo slime, next planet we robbin for gas.” warp jump, now the stars smear like liquor on glass, we pass thru the laws of physics like unpaid rent, bent time till it owe us interest, land at the citadel, walls built from melted ambitions, guards stand like mannequins dreamin of promotion, I step up, banana in hand, grinnin like confession time, said “take me to the machinegod got a gift and a scam,” they scan, they jam, door slam, next thing I’m facin a tower that breathe, wires weavin like hair on a queen, whole scene gleam like stolen gold in dim light, machinegod voice hit like bass in a fight: “why rob the poor for fruit?” I said “’cause hunger the only truth, you feed the myth and it feed you back,” monks nod, sparks crack, throne hummin like a slow clap, I toss the peel in its lap, said “that’s art, bruh, organic chaos, starch of the cosmos,” it pause, then laugh, metal jaw flash, said “you insane, but I respect the math,” we left with no cash but legend in the dash, monks chant low like bass in the ash, I spark another plan, half-smirk, half-mask, “yo slime, next planet we robbin for that shit bananas dawg......... huh? these simian sultans thought fruit was steady, til da monks pulled up wit dat machete ready,” crates hummin, “we ripe and deadly,” radiation syrup drippin thick and jelly, i’m talkin plasma slicers hid in smoothie blenders, energy tenders, galactic lenders, wheres yo girl? return to seeeenderrrrrrrrr.... time fold twice like debt in disguise, and da trunk still hummin wit fruit that lies, dat fruit that spies, dat fruit that multiplies, da smell like gunpowder lullabies we cosmic criminals wit formal ties, space clergy dripped in compromise. “yo reality synthetic, we bendin laws til da math get hectic, mirror neurons flexin aesthetic, bars too dense, they compress kinetic,” da beat oscillate like heart prosthetic, monks bow low but da grin prophetic, slime sauce thick, drip magnetic, da rhyme so warped it sound telepathetic.
