Love In The Future might just be one of the best albums out right now


Your not even African-American your just american what a shame.

Bye. The first three songs on my blog are by African artists. Dude you’re the only one that asks me questions on here, wtf is up. I know it’s the same person because I don’t have that many followers. I’m not even annoyed I’m creeped, you ask random questions and say the same rude shit every time. 

I get played over and over and over again, and I know it.


Say baby, can I be your slave

I’ve got to admit girl you’re the shit girl, and I’m diggin’ you like a grave.

Now do they call you daughter to the spinnin’ post, or-or maybe Queen of 2,000 moons.

Sister to the distant, yet risin’ star.

Is your name Yemaya? Oh. Hell nah, it’s got to be Oshun.

Ooo. Is that a smile me put on your face child?

Wide as a field of Jasmine and Glover.

Talk that talk honey, walk that walk money.

Hound legs that’ll spank Jehovah 

Who am I?

It’s not important but they call me Brother to the Night, and right now 
I’m the blues in your left thigh. Tryin’ to become the funk in your right.

Who am I?

I’ll be whoever you say.

But right now, I’m the sight raped hunter 
blindly pursuing you as my prey.

And I just wanna give you injections of sublime erections, and get you to dance to my rhythm.

Make you dream archaetypes, of black angels in flight.

Upon wings, of distorted, contorted, metaphoric jism.

Come on slim. Fuck yo’ man, I ain’t worried about him.

It’s you who I wanna step to my scene.

'Cos rather than deal with the fallacy of this dry ass reality. I rather dance and romance your sweet ass, in a wet dream.

Who am I?

Well they all call me Brother to the Night, and right now I’m the blues in your left thigh. Trying to become the funk in your right

Is that alright?

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