“Oh my god!” Praising people or being a deity’s devout disciple, to me, seems servile. And I ain’t an ancient historian, but serving someone simply because most motherfuckers say so is a time-honored tradition—human habit—that way too many motherfuckers have followed. Your Honor, I’m going to be myself here, in Heaven, in Hell, and everywhere else. Sometimes that’s sweet, oftentimes it’s silent, other times it’s helpful and honest, occasionally it’s assertive or a little aggressive, but I’m always immensely intelligent—even in ignorance or irresponsible instances. And these fake-ass folks got me fucked up, Your Honor. Don’t worry, I’m often only politely profane “outside,” and I certainly wouldn’t want any wonderful women running away from my wonderful writing. Which queues the query, Latto, what is it? What’s wrong, ma’am? Not only am I a wonderful writer, I’m a remarkable reader. And again, I’m not big on books, but I frequently flip through the “people pages.” I talk about my totally taken-over timeline to remind regular readers that the trends I see when swiping on social media are commonly controlled by the country’s chief conspirators. And it’s really repetitive, usually random ridiculousness, nonsensical niggas, national news stories, comical clips, some fine fitness females, commonplace content-creating chicks, a bunch of bullshitting, bad-mouthing bitches, etc. But I see plenty of pictures of certain celebrities. I only really swipe and scroll for the evidence of sad, sadistic shit and supremely spiritual stuff going on in my life. And every time I see pictures of Latto, something seems… spiritual, I guess. I’m intrinsically intuitive, and I can tell things. Maybe it’s post-partem depression or something simple. Or maybe the Feds are fucking with me, showing me staged sad shit knowing that my nurturing nature will compel me to say something sweet through comforting comments. These petty, puerile, pathetic people are pissing me the fuck off, Latto. Coco Jones, I see sadness in you, too. What’s wrong? And shout-out to Donovan McNabb, Jr., or whoever your fiancée is. “Canbharri,” girl, why y’all playin’ with me? That was a fake-ass bee in that video, wasn’t it? Just so you could say, “…bee trippin’.” Am I right? Your Honor, why? Then, they’re trying to make me out to be a bitch basher, Your Honor. I love bitches! Anyhoo, repeating as a reminder, Nas was my favorite rapper from a bit before “Belly” till Eminem consistently crushed competition with labyrinthine lyrics, figurative finesse, wordplay wizardry, and metaphorical mastery like I’d never heard before. But other than his excellence in eloquent expression, Nas’ noticeable nonchalance and decent demeanor really resonated with me, as they’re characteristics that I also naturally carry. We’re all going to gravitate toward whatever “world” we believe we belong, right? As a cool, calm, collected champion of your Christ, “conscious” rap, neo-soul, and anything leaning toward life, learning, and love have always been almost magically magnetic for me. Pharaohs and pyramids are fascinating figures and fixtures to most of mankind. And Nas’ album artwork for “I Am” showed the rapper replicating an Egyptian king’s golden gaze. Later, Queens’ “livest” lyrical lord laid down many motivational messages and learnable lessons in “I Can.” Stating, “…be, be. Before we came to this country, we were kings and queens, never ‘porch monkeys.’ There were empires in Africa…” Then, he said, “…shot off their nose to impose what basically, still goes on today, you see. If the truth is told, the youth can grow. They’ll learn to survive until they gain control. Nobody says ‘you have to be gangsters, hoes.’ Read more, learn more, change the globe!” That really, really resonated with me, too. Remember resonance, as it’s important in the supreme scheme of things. This ain’t happening by happenstance, Hollywood. Y’all know what’s happening here, right? To put it super simply, I’m here to tell the truth! And oh your god, goddamn it, goodness gracious y’all are NOT ready for the truth! So, don’t forget that the country’s chief conspirators also had Nas sneak diss me. J. Cole, why did Nas let “B” down, bruh? I got good news and bad news. And soon…
Omniscience