I slide in the pocket, I’m joggin’ then rocketin’ off of it, talkative, God in the monitoring, clockin’ the consonants, nonchalant ominous, Knots in the wallet, I’m solvin’ the calculus, countin’ up columns, I’m positive, dominant, y’all are just novelties, I’m in the documents. Off of the top and I’m off in the tropics, I drop in, I’m toxic, I’m talkin’ like “stop it,” my optics on profits, I’m lockin’ the logic, I’m locked in, Prosser to cosmos, I’m crossin’ the plot holes, I’m possible, not close, I’m postin’ the high score, they pause when the god flows, I got ‘em like “Not him!” Let me go slow with it, whole minute, no gimmick, soul in it, flow timid? No, never, I’m cold with it, Four-count heartbeat, ride on the snare, then I slide, put the rhyme on the hi-hat, ghost in it. One–two–three–four, speak more, each bar detour, I don’t ever re-record, keyboard, delete, I restore, Cheap talk, I ignore, heat source, meteor, Feet on floor but my reach in the ether, I leap toward. Switch seat, now I jump on the two, come through, no loop, new groove in the room, Stutter-step syllables, minimal intervals, then I sprint on the end of the tune, Double-time digital, pivot, I’m difficult, wicked and clinical, pinning the pinnacle, Pull up with a pattern so jagged it’s literal static, I’m crackin’ your visual. Da-da-da, break, da-da-da, wait, Mutter a phrase just to cover the space, then I run in with thunder and weight, Under the radar, I’m uppin’ the stakes, I’m a razor that’s cuttin’ the tape, See how I’m buyin’ a moment with filler then filling it up with a punch to the face. New cadence, melodic, I’m singin’ the topic, I bend it, I’m honest, I’m wavy, Slide on the backbeat, half-bar phrases, lazy, but the pattern still crazy, “I’ve been on a road too long, tryna hold this song, but the load too strong, yeah,” Then I snap right back in the rap, no cap, whole map in my notepad, no fear. Multi-syllabic, acrobatic, automatic static in the attic when I backflip on a ad-lib, “Garden of Eden, heart of a demon, smarter, I’m breathin’ art when I’m speakin’,” that’s the pattern, I’m past it. Threadin’ all the consonants, it’s obvious I’m confident, I’m honorin’ the craftsmanship, Average kids chatter, but the fact is this: every line crafted like it had a blacksmith. I can talk simple, let the space do work, bare bones, no frills, no chains, no merch, “Walk in, nod head, one step, one word,” Pause… then I load that burst: “Prosser on the map, whole state with me, stay with me, Any beat, any pace, I can break, make waves, never chase, they chase me.” Now I’m back to the fast route, mash down, gas now, Stack vowels, lap crowds, background blacked out, Tongue like a MAC now, rat-tat-tat rounds, syllable smackdown, Every little letter that I let up in the rhythm is a weapon when I set ‘em in a pattern in the background. Heartbeat flow with a magnet twist, drag that kick, then I snatch that shift, Get up off my d i c k....

The Nonchalant Confidant.