Do you know how I know y’all are stupid? It’s because you persistently believe and perpetually behave as if it’s possible to persuade or pressure me into playing myself. Y’all, these nefarious numbskulls at the nation’s nutsack have the nerve to insinuate that I shouldn’t nuke them because, in the event of justice being served, some losers will lose their jobs and control of their lives for having lost their minds. Well, it’s called the “easy way out” because it’s an effortless exit. Literally, get the fuck out of here for good, goodbye! You’re toiling to tarnish my image, have tried to trigger me into tirades, thought that you could torture me into taking myself out, are thieving my thoughts and testimony, have tediously been trolling me, and too much more, but I’m supposed to give a fuck about you fools, your feelings, and your futures?! Mistaking me for a mush was a mistake, huh? I swear that I’m seldom stroppy, but this shit has me seething. In the last post, I was tempted to include this tarot-reading lookalike of Tasha K., but my intuition forced me to be forbearing. These petty-ass pea-brains are so predictable that it’s pathetic. A few hours before I began writing this post, Tasha took to the Tube with an alleged targeted truth-teller that has a touching tale that’s tantamount to mine. I’ve seen the story before on the whacked out whistleblower, Ms. Wright’s, channel. Tasha’s take on the disturbing details of a mogul’s damaged daughter’s story happened the day after I divulged, again, that the diabolical deceivers who despise my divinity have been stealing my stories and making them sensations. Luckily for me, the lot of the losers and lowlifes who’ve laughed at my laborious efforts to shed light on this loathsome ordeal have lashed out at and lambasted me under the orders of the aforementioned predictable, petty-ass pea-brains. Shit, even Tasha K. is (allegedly) being treated as a tool in the tender tyrants’ terrible tactics. Everybody knows who I am because everybody who’s anybody and everybody else have been exercised by evil. In other words, the answers are in you antagonists’ allusive applying of all the advice that has apparently been administered to you. How much change comes from conversations? Anyhoo, just so y’all know, I’m not writing about no bogus bullshit. Because I’m intelligent, I’m not unintelligent, and I know when motherfuckers are making up moronic moments just to be mentioned. My focus is on figuratively fucking fools in the ass, not fooling around and getting fucked. But shout-out to the babbling Barbie. Moving on, I recognize that y’all don’t realize that you’re really making it impossible for me to respect you. If you’re not fake as fuck then you’re a fan of falsities and the Feds. What made y’all think that you could piss me off and I wouldn’t point my peeved posture toward the people who prompted it? Please, picture me rollin’ on y’all punk asses. Rest in peace to Young Noble of Outlawz and Big Boi’s uncle. I won’t mention the coincidences, but they’re there and cause for concern. And while I’m on the topic of tragedy, I’m still not tired of telling the truth. That’s tragic for y’all, ain’t it? The truth is, I don’t give a fuck about nothin’—except gettin’ paid, prophesied, and praised. It’s plain to see, you can’t change me, ‘cause I’m gon’ be just realer for life! “Benedict Arnold,” are you still tapped in? I bet you’re mad as a motherfucker that you’ve been made a playfellow of the punk-ass police—a friend of the Feds and an apologist of AmeriKKKa’s authoritarians. I mean, you did tell me “fuck yo’ agenda,” right? How does it feel to be hoodwinked, bamboozled, led astray, run amok, and flat out deceived, sir? Listen to what the fuck I’m telling y’all, okay? Trust me, you want me to extend this grace period. But soon…
Omniscience