Lil Wayne - Glory
Few words about this cracking gal.
Louise Hampton.
Take heart in God, with people inspiring, or a disappointment. Nor, are we all so 'cracking' and great. Or..?
What are the intrinsic differences in the two peoples' of the UK?
People who watch TV News etc., or not?
Voluntarily wear a mask, or not?
Welcome and promote lockdown and 'believe the lie', and; Truthers.
Internet censorship and no-more 'plant a seed or truthscoop' is the battle. Not because, I believe in blogs, it's that it, never stops there.
The resentment both-ways, by the lock-downers conned into crisis behaviour.
By 'liberty lovers', who care about the world they live, and are moving toward. Pushing each other, toward, or...? Taking responsibility, like men and women of old.
'Lockdowner's' don't care, they want, out. The mental ill-health, Louise's testimony backs up, is where the demons roam. The 'people who believe the lie' are facing an immense turmoil, struggling with truth, that suddenly, doesn't matter. Concede the ground . Lies and insincerity, fear and distancing...
All I can do is pray. Not, ALL and "oh, dear..."
We're in this mess, because we ain't been.
Screens and machines killed-of 90% men and women of old and the behaviour, and the way.
The 'scoops and seeds', the posts, are becoming... something to tap in...
...while, praying. Or, getting into praying, and being all-attentive, and the present one.
Start and keep-on, keepin' on to worship, verses, and the way.
A consolation, 'meetings with God'.
Bless the peep. I meet, but am preparing to be fully-withdrawn, and go dark.
Truthers around? Open arms.
And; Not on the good side and for good, and God?
Avoid. Stay away.
One big hurt and surprise? All the people I admired, Christians in particular, are 'gone'. Dead to truth and hope. Pretending who-knows, but it's the difference...
In one description.
The two positions and peoples':
Men and women, 'adults' -and- children.
Depending on capacity to respond, or a desire? Grown-ups, care for the young. And, that's it.
The lock-downers should be seen in the comparison; adults with integrity and openness -or- deception and distance. Children scurrying about to 2020's Nero.
Time, to do the time.
Got God, or, get God, taking a chance on Jesus, is reality?
MJ.
Mick:
Risk Assess, and Action Plan:
Apologies, at nine, more drama's, and will remain confidential with social care, a business, and authorities. Yesterday, drama/first-act, spills over into the day. Later, when-can get publishing, MJ.
[Unusual back-in, and hear/watch, Daniel Barenboim and Chicago Symphony Orchestra, opening the 1997 season at Carnegie Hall. Go? Oh yeah, Music ...and, immediately, all other and 'pop +', music, ...ain't.
Having said that? 'Swing both ways'.]
Is it? Where you're at, or where you from?
Plantaseed.org.uk/where-you-at.
Posting for 9am, and adventures with Shoutsouth.
[Update]. Spartans, 67, RA. taking me back,,, You know? Memory lane. On and off, "not a long 'ting", though. To write/edit, post, and start next post. No, new post? Ain't done.
Spit, and Polish.
Domain for True Life, gave them, spitandpolish.com
Up, and be all for today.
Up, and keep on: keeping...
Woo, this that shit they didn't want me on
I'm 'bout to act a badonkadonk, shamone, shamone
Don't need sugar, I need cream, I'm dark and strong
The garbage man puttin' on cologne, aroma wrong
I'm on, I'm on, this that shit they didn't want
I act a ass and shit a skunk, I will, I won't
Black your eye like will.i.am, you Willy Wonka
That's me in the Lamb', I'm disappearin' like Jimmy Hoffa
AK-47 my business partner, business is swell
French kiss a bitch, she don't speak French, can't kiss and tell
I push his ass in a wishin' well, then wish him well
Sippin' syrup like ginger ale, but I'm the quickest snail
From here to Hell, I hear them hail, I give them hell
I'm spittin' hail, I'm Clinton, well, I did inhale
These niggas frail, they Chip and Dale, they little gals
Watch me act a donkey, then pin a tail, spit out your nails
:
Uh, glory, hallelujah
Holy shit, I'm the holy shit, I'm God's manure
I know how to hack a jeweler ward and not computers
I meditate like a Buddhist, holy ramen noodles
And now you sleep, I'm inside your room wit' a lot of shooters
You wake up to this chopper tool, it's like, "cock-a-doodle"
I'm awkward, cuckoo, I turn your Froot Loop to chocolate Yoo-Hoo
I'm hotter than Honolulu, glory unto you (Glory)
Glory
:
I'm awkward, cuckoo, I turn your Froot Loop to chocolate Yoo-Hoo
I'm hotter than Honolulu, my clothes and socks and shoes new
I been a boo-boo since ga-ga goo-goo and Dada, FUBU
Make everybody that knew you boo-hoo, I got them spooked too
I drive in neutral, shock the future like Dr. Luther
I'm not a chooser, your mom a cougar, I'll sock it to her
My cocaine white as a white beluga, I like bazookas
I'm high as lunar, I'm wilder than tigers, Nikes, Pumas
Woo, this that shit you didn't want me on
My weed louder than underarms and car alarms
Cheers, I said, "Surprise," but couldn't party long
I got to get back to the grind and the drawin' board
But all this fuckin' artist drawin' is the art of war
These niggas soft as teddy bears, talk to Marky Mark
I wet your block, leave it a waterpark, broad or dark
I whip the work like tartar sauce, you want it hard or raw, huh?
:
Uh, glory, hallelujah
Holy shit, I'm the shit, Porta-Potty Tunechi
Unload the Glock profusely when sortin' out confusion
Your motor mouth keep vroomin', I'm goin' Tony Stewart
I'm on the fluid, I'm ruined, I'm cold as Boston Bruins
Lost in the shoo-shoo and who's who and I lost influence
Lost my point of view 'til I find a mirror, start talkin' to it
It told me the truth, it said I'm the shit and you party poopin'
Lord, oh, Lord
:
Am I talkin' crazy? Too much coffee maybe
I smell like money, I know broke niggas feel nauseated
The broads elated, my boys are faded, my car's the latest
My bars the greatest, they rated X like Marvel made it
She caught the babies, she barfed the babies, they orphans maybe
We got that white girl like in the '80s, that Marcia Brady
I dicked Tracy like Warren Beatty, I'm warm as Haiti
I'm armed and lazy, I'm sprayin' until my arms is lazy
Pardon my mental, I'm higher than Continental
Went from flyin' cockroaches to flyin' without credentials
That's private, tell the pilot, "Be quiet, we need our privacy"
Throw you off this bitch if you wired, justifiably
Hustle wit' a motive, you know this, I'm wit' my whoadies
No snakes, no rodents, no ad-libs, no chorus
No stress, no worries, hook you to a respiratory
It's self-explanatory, the glory is mandatory, glory
:
Uh, glory, hallelujah
Holy shit, I can't hold this shit, my bowel's looser
My towel's newer, my powder room is for powder-users
You see rolled up dollar bills filled wit' snot and mucus
My tires Lucas, my driver's cruisin', my partner's ruthless
My flower's rootless, my pocket's roofless, she poppin' roofies
I'm not a student, I'm not assumin' I'm not a human
You are not immune to this kind of music, you got 'em, Tunechi
You got 'em, Tunechi, I got 'em
:
Glory, hallelujah (I got 'em)
(Glory)
I got 'em
(I got 'em)
I got 'em
Twenty eight minutes prep. on Plantaseed.org.uk/theodore-dalrymple-on-prisons
...preparation for 'Prisons Pt. 2.'
Advertisement: Pt. 2. Drill's Roots, (Harlem Spartans - Kennington Where It Started.), Wed., 10th.
Pt. 3., Drill's Roots, (Rocko - Brixton Hill.), Thurs. 11th.
Theodore Dalrymple On Prisons, Pt. 2., Friday.
Sunday School, RA on Pound Cake, and Pt. 4. Drill's Roots, (Angell Town). [Truthscoop.net]
Bobby:
[Not Elgar, although, nearest and brightest star. Womack, and the wonderful few.]
Text by ten, includes Genesis and Saxon stories. Most of the people in the photograph, 10-15 years later. / The Kennington and Brixton Hill music makers' parents, and their friends. Drill-like earliest beats and raps.
Bonus Ball:
[Up, not seen. "O 'course, standard."]
