Another work week over. Now it's just me, the screw tape (CD, actually) Kyle left over here a while back, and some Jim Beam. My shitty computer speaks do some interesting things to this shit's bass frequencies, similar to a massively scaled-down version of the oversized subs all you Houstonians are familiar with.

Speaking of trunks, this one car audio company that advertises in the Greensheet routinely sends us 4x6 photos of the trunks they customize. I don't live in the right part of town, but I nevertheless can't wait for the day when I see some dude pop trunk and see the "KEEPIN IT GANGSTA" or "I SEE U WATCHIN" script on the inside of the lid, vibrating to whatever shit it bassing out of the inevitable six 12" subs in their trunk. The aforementioned car audio joint sent us pics of said custom trunks, and it's an endless source of amusement. I dig H-Town.

Back to the screw tapes: listening to them high is the way to go. This shit is the rap equivalent of doom, but with insane posturing. When me and my bro get our '65 Impala, we're gonna have to crank this shit whenever we're not infecting the populace with Brant Bjork or metal.

Enough of this rambling shit.

"Gorillas not dinosaurs."
"I sold 40,000 mixtape messiahs in one month."

P.S. If anyone knows who the fuck chopped "Crazy Train" into that one song, let me know.