the feature presentation

[ChristO]

11.21.22-3.6.23

11.21.22 mo: between el' and I, I can save israel's remant and that's it. satan's synagogue on it's last breath directly to Hell gasping. :3.6.23 mo: so the movie's name is mr. and mrs. smith, set to begin when me and mary smith cum together. gods now stressed to befriend the living word being me allone, the feature presentation. today's beanie sig's 49th, building 21 is vacant. see how I don't play. m.l.k. housing projects the location where I was last scene alive at, blooded-in by unknown plaintiffs, whom I identified as black mafia personnel. chali con tried to seal omerta on me. my patients caught the body, without a net or blow-up cushion. 234's now in my scope. s.p. is acting desperate as-shit. 2-4's now what I own. I rep the 1900s, niggas know me there as rulerfoot. ask trick, moussie, or don about me. they'll tell you I'm cool as fuk...

[ChristO]

5.7.23 mo:. so yak yola 'bout to get fillies black fem8les cumming to me for quotables. I think my dad joseph put this omen to me: sam christian put me down at 6.69 on friday the 13th to be south philly-born to book black mafia. weight of earths seems to define my shoulder muscles. my el'ev8tor's stuck on me, though she said I cold-shouldered her, eskimoe traits rubbed off on me. my bloods still in that elevator car sam christian saw me in. don't believe it or do. 28 days before the trial begins. my cuz'n ties be the mood I'm in. she'll keep excusing me. so fillies shoulda' known way-better than to try excluding me. my brothers who reached out to me I won't forget, just don't forget just how I'm lincoln up with 'em, no calendars and no regrets. calamari's on my plate courtesy of my actor cousin fred who played l.j. washington. that 12 monkeys movie was a hit, debuted chali con's da' 5 tags in it as-well. I been at He'll, didn't know the masonic measures then of it, but shit's been real. when I schizzed, I knew my murdered uncle's daughter put the hit out. there's no way in the world from 215 that fillies gon' get out. :12.20.23 we: when I book the sins, it's not to set trends, it's to put shits to ends. :2.9.24 fr: the book of clarence is my own book. the bullitts done met their end. the cumming attr8ctions to me building 'til floor-to-ceiling filled beyond maximum capacity and all of my needs fulfilled. the world can flip the bill, ever since the bill-will fall incident. that's when will smith fell into a pit just as bill cos' sentence in...

[ChristO]

:2.12.24 mo: ...I'm king christ, chief, so how thais gon' thank me for my septa key she's borrowing? she called on her demons to put an end to me. can't pardon her. my cuz'n tanya died in-place of her. cancer ended her life at 36. my ole' mah' came back at cancer, alaskan crab to me. now gods under pressure to get to me. the bullets riddled through me, and now the bullitts ridicule me. but gods slept. my god m.c. tango'ing now with solar's panels. I am the sun tzu-wu the gheng'ster. my s.i.n.s. don't owe y'all answers. shit is not sweet is all I know. I'm confiscating a new h8pe for my own means. she can blow me to ole' faithful. now your new's old. she's the bitch my uncle murdered seventy-two. israel's dead, shot in his head september 5th of twenty-two. niggas slow deaths catching up to them zionists. ask what I said, I don't stutter. I'll spend the bullitts on my targets, better not have low budgets. sean carter's been murdered in money. suu wut wwiii after, m8rcy? wwiii can meet in rehoboth beach and dance at my bachelor party. the bloods sheds between vs. wwiii keep that between vs. wwiii the cleaners to wardrobes trying to superimpose their wills on my seamsters. the dreds locked in a deadlock. whoever voodoo-dusted my face in ninety-nine harvested a dead crop. my boots stuck in his face. the discussion back in the day's how voodoo ain't work on philly. nowadays, their solution to that's as-if to hurt my feelings, to find my god m.c.'s judas isc. brutus. shit, I was relieved he wasn't done by lucyfer's host like jizz with cum in his cheeks. but to dismiss chalucci as make-believe was my god's mistake, to disrespect my fight as-if I made believe my life's at-stake. so all the tzu-wu's re8els can be is my own blood rel8tives, in sealing bloods fate. the population's stuck with horse sedatives. I'm 215 years-old today as the face on the 5 and cent, about to be 96 as the founder of the 5 percent. inbetween that I'll be 53 on 2.15 coming up. so ask why did napolean bonaparte have me summmoned up. the answer is to try to free himself of when he asked to die at my command. if wwiii gotta' do this together, scrap the lies. I'm not the fan. so if wwiii best friends, shes got that to prove to me. that palmist bitch read my hand, but my fist is a more brutal read...

[ChristO]

2.15.24 th: ...now I'm a' go to the medics for a check-up. gods been set up. look, do I or do I not have the bloods circulation hemmed up. the book of clarence forces gods simply to see me. I'm breathing after the bullets deceased me to have the bullitts beseech me if he enjoys still breathing. I don't have to remember to be re-membered. I'm the knowledge, not the gnostics. :2.16.24 fr: so yes it's through me that gods gotta' decide to work. my blood pressure high, so I'm not regulating the bloods circulation yet. surprise though, I got blooded-in going-on fifty-five years ago in the projects. those acting like they don't get my written script by now's on nonsense. and shout to those who followed me from day-one and recognize real. it ain't about a race but to the finished line, that's without reels. the movies locked-in now though since the bullitts chose to provoke me to counter-terrorize the industry now 'til they all know me. been 444 trumpets played before jay-z's 444, and before that's 1974 the year 444 homicides where beanie was born 3.6 after room 306 in memphis, home of 3-6 mafia, huh. lucy lived on tricks...

[ChristO]

:2.25.24 su: seems sos signalled to me on gods Father's day, what a tact to connect with my brother leem. my phone was cracked, went out-of-wack. looking for my dad that day to make sure he's good in transition, if it's coming to that. he once claimed he's atheist, but listen, luc's cipher chose him to seed me under God's methodology. nothing gets past me. I'm ain't-I-christ, dig the etymology. the virgin rosemary birthed me. mimah was a virgin before she got with my dad nathan'. ain't like I ain't been murdered before to be still-born. so I got clarence booked, and now gods in a jam since threatening my life on my 45th birthday. I'll be damned if I ain't putting the cons sequence down on that. if gods on that gangsta' shit, then I'm on that. the ground under gods feet, I own that. my cuzn thais' life, I should own that, but gods not in-the-loop. luc's cipher played a game, got their boy murdered. he's now under soot. and adam's descent to judas isc. brutus is why gods confused. forbidden fruit's the bitten fruit. my chef hat's on when gods the food. lucyfer's host wacked five thirty-eight days ago. there's no excuse. I was on my own with that. my patients to end him showed and proved...

[ST. PAUL]

Thunder Chief on drums Me on keyboard and the mic. https://www.soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=14797264

[ChristO]

peace. wwiiill check it out.

[ChristO]

...so I'm the sole eternal ruler sunni nuff undisputed. I'm to nyc from know-where until fillies show where I been rooted. apartheidist pussies can't breathe a single breath on my shoeprints. shells bound to run through their chit'lings once I school him how to do this. fourteen days until the six sixes sealed, the fate of chalucy catching up to israel's state exposing 'em to my looseleaves. I'm all-talk is what lucyfer said I was 'til I sentenced him, to death. simple and plain, the names haven't been changed for ref'rences. my cuzn eric hemmed up at coney island for necklace theft. and brooklyn street's what shells reps. me, I want kings to bench-press their necks. so I have brother enoch hell'd captive. and my god hustles `cross the bridge now, new jersusalem. judas isc. brutus double-crossed. my god had to pick up on it. my dog now done bitched-up on me and chose to die six fifty-two days ago. now shit's all on me. my name's to be cleared of false charges on it. my name's ain't-I-christ. I personally give no fucks. panties sweat "yes" to ain't-I-write. my wilson projects pr8spect put me wwiiith one thousand thirteen tricks. seven thirty-six days ago. barabus vouched for her. shes picked...

[ChristO]

...blood politics is I allone am tzu-wu the abel bodied. fillies not, never was, and never wwiiil be, but they done tried me. my cuzn thais fighting for her son eric, not possibly considering since she done played with the masjid which side of me's cumming to collect sodomy from her and her. dichotomy's thinking I'm nice because of my aesthetics. I don't lie to me. outside of me's the strangers. any familiars are lobbying for me to recall shit. how am I re-membered? can't call me if the phones are not fem8les pleasing t8 me. al-mahdi con's the cause, saying why he's gotta' be the beast with the 666, el maricon. a cigarette, yeah, that bitch was smoked six fifty-three days ago. if wwIII gotta' do this together, they should know it's days ago. thirteen days to go. when the six sixes sealed, there's no way to doze. fillies first, last, and foremost been the play deaths to all nays opposed

[ChristO]

...got the deed to my car today. :7.19.24 fr. my plates clued me to who's possessed. I scene a team who never scene me yet. their bitch was more obsessed to own me though. I'm lonely though. it's no "we" when I'm on my own. if wwiii doing this together, shes my properties, all I own. so as I get money on her, my teller g8rl won't tell on me. bloods suckers getting the memo. how I can tell won't fail on me. with every bar of mine shes stuck behind, so there's no bail on me. stack dollar signs, whole graves of dead presidents growing stale on me. cuzn renee must answer to me 'cause she birthed my old mother mrs. mary smith. now mimah's been calling shots on bloods suckers. I'm a' reign shells on fillies streets. now I scene how I snipe's down shit. once I flip one number to number one, boogies picked get down quick. since philly dreads my return to n.y.c. from outta' know-where, I don't live for a second. fillies second thoughts got 'em nowhere...

[ChristO]

...before kindergarten or get-set, my race not for second-place, so where I'm coming from other than my dick's not a second late. yes I'm obscene but am I scene by fillies since seventy-one, or is it too late for fillies since I'm a' slump everryone. I ain't claim to be nyc ever, knew since my teens if I ever find out I'm nyc, bomb dffusion team parts'll make the storm's weather. chali lucyano's the bul who let me know they know me there. I talked with allah b. god look, wwiii philly-born. just know wwiii here. my cuz'n G.'s the foundation since sixty-eight, marcus garvey. I tried to show him who he is. he died on me. that should haunt me. my cuzn D.'s bumpy johnson, born to seal black mafia's fate seventy-two, after no club harlem witness opened their face...

[ChristO]

...I don't have a poker face. I'm straight. what I have'll poke her face. she'd eat my strawberry up. if you knew the codes, you'd know the play. since my god showed his jealous streak, I'm-write his mom's stuck 8n my dick. you're god-damned right it's the motherfucking t.o.n.y. christ show, my nig'. so I'm a' son my own god. the lost angeles been my own dog, euthenized since six hundred eighty-five days. I'll pick my own slobs, my own blood rel8tives. wut's kept between vs is this exercise. expect to die five seconds after message red. that's pesticide. mimah can get a good night's rest tonight. conditions and terms for once the devout's scene the vision I provide. t.v. sets turned off. my god camped out in campbell soup's home, wwiii cased hass' campbell's soup's home. fuck his pizza-gate claims, could care less what he wants on his tombstone...

[ChristO]

...phillydone insisted, voo'dust be my war paint since ninety-nine. this dumb foreign nigga' blew it from his palm. this the shit you on, the war of atrition. listen, I wasn't phased, but just incase, I got jamaicas assets by its sea level above-the-waist. I ain't playing for shit. philly niggas best cut their dreds to bald-skinned shiny skulls. wwiii never hailed selassie, pussies. where was y'all, never around me. that's some gaul, humphrey, to bogart protocol to reach me the protocall, like their fam'ly's safety's not involved...

[ChristO]

...and philly's nigga relishing that they're relics and can't catch up nor cut the mustard. I'm disgusted. they let mayonnaise dress 'em. the bread they call lettuce been their objective, not to notice me, since the black brothers inc.'s founder done roasted me. just know it's me seeking revenge. I'm not pretend. and against me there are no wins. I gut-checked god, left him with no wind. the bloods shed doesn't know him. al-mahdi con murdered six hundred ninet-nine days ago now. "who is wilson" my chicago connect asked, insane to know how the day of al-mahdi con's janaza, dude offers his manhood. ridickulous. man'gina ain't an offer that a real man should. so dig the flip, traumatized niggas buck-broke by the chains and whips, white slave masters dicks raped niggas in front of their own child and bitch. the shit that makes a stomach churn, and how their God would allow it? that bitch eve thinking she's so tough's my cuzn now. she corraled this. I'm gods father all-law, way bigger than the label gods suggests. I'm gods Father, ain't get a moment's rest as gods slept. I suggest my god listen 'stead of trying to talk over my word to him. the nerve of him. w.t.c. niggas can't get word from him...

[ChristO]

...two weaks n8ticing me at a time, how long can I keep this up before I walk off my payroll gig. how long can my d!@k keep up. my el'ev8tor ride'll help. my elevator ride to H'ell is why. q33ny cumplies cumpletely t8 me to revive my health. the u.s. remains trump'd. I put him back in that elect'trick chair. kamaliar's a kamilian. mk-ultra's sick senses smeared. and l.s.d. said wwiii gotta' do this together to me then. eighteen days later israel's papsmeared to death. who's pussy then? the chicken's head cut off. tentacles wrapped 'round niggas testicles. black bitches tongue-tied who wanted the bull's eye now want vegetables. baphomet's throat cut, south philly niggas fingerprints the footprint. I rides my el'ev8tor back to heavins. shes 8n my hood drenched. wedding vows between me and q33ny now. shit's plane as day to see the blackmale attempt on me ain't pan out. he's still a dame to me, the lord, gods father all-law. I wwiiill occupy y'all living room. if palestein don't deserve death, why my people considered coons. that's one question on the spelling test, pass or fail. can a new hope eat my banana to appeal to my candor. that's what u hope?...