I flip when I kick it trippin it. So I can check shit not in a daily style. But once in every while so I can. File check file check the files of my brain. Many of meaning manage to come from the insane. And the butcher the baker the fabulous drama maker. A cracker on a truck goin' breaker breaker. Listen to everyone then disregard it. The maningful shit comes back back to where it started. In your cranium surrounded by pot like a geranuim. A capital 2 burns in my mind give me some peace. I looked at her I looked at him and neither one did know. Where the wild thoughts grow check it out. I look for absolutes and there absolutely none. The truth is what you shoot for not one. Nothing brings it all together the journeys never done. I'd sing you Stormy Weather but it's been sung so. Let's have some fun. Three Eleven hass grass roots. Challenge comes and goes and there will be another. I say bring it on. The roots that grow underground are as big as the tree. That you see if not it will fall down. We waste so many moments standing on convention. The only survey is when our heart pays no attention. Move with persistence cover much distance. Knowing no perdition that's my game for instance. Three Eleven true to no tradition. And the Three Eleven crew not dow with convention. But a hundred different people already told what we about. So I make not attempt to try and suss the stupid out. I'd turned into a roughneck that was not my intention. It doesn't even really matter unless I fail to mention that. Peace to all crews that want some peace. First the Mid then the West then we slide through the East. A piece to any crew that want a peice. But peace to all crews that want peace. Check it out.