Big Ghost’s Week 3 Rant:
Ayo whattup this the illustrious Hands of Zeus aka Cocaine Biceps aka Thor Molecules aka Big Ghost the panty melter namsayin. Son…I was peepin this joint that was on the ipod that came from the heavens that the dragon blessed me with nahmean. The shit had some gorgeous piano chords playin b…as tho the keys was bein stroked by the hands of God Almighty hisself namsayin. Ayo son this shit had angels singin on it…and a voice began to speak to me I listened namsayin…cuz I thought it was the voice of the White Jesus. I listed to what the White Jesus was sayin…I was focused b…cuz I had thought I had been chosen by the Lord forreal forreal. But then I wasnt able to interpret his message…it was too Biblical…it was too deep for my mental b. My emotions began to drown my soul nahmean. I was immersed in the holy message of what I had thought was the voice of the Messiah n I wasnt able to diagnose the scripture like that. The god felt sorrow b. That shit hurt my aura…tears burst out my wig as I felt the hands of a hundred cherubs pat my arm….(pause)…n one began to speak to me telepathically n shit… sayin “nah chill b…you was chosen…you was chosen my nigga”. So I arose…n I knew what I had to do. I showed to one of the snow niggas I be cool with… one of my cream brothers…Brody. And so it was that Brody came to listen the joint…n son said to me “Dude…that aint no white man’s version of the Messiah… thats Beck motherfucker. Durrrrrrr…”. Word is bond…I began to nod my head n stroke my beard…n I responded to son…”Who the fuck is Beck yo? Ayo n also if you say some durrr shit to me again Imma duff you in the muthafuckin face…thats my word…Imma slap you wit the force of a thousand elephants n turn the bones in ya face to dust b…thats my word.”….or some shit like that n whatever whatever. And so it was written…I had became educated thru the youtube videos that my Caucasinite homie showed me…n I had began to understand namsayin. I was brought forth to the light towards the righteous path nahmean. And even tho what I had thought was a personal message from the White Jesus of Nazareth turned out to be jussa feature by the muthafucka who made the joint “Loser” back in the early 90s…I felt enlightened. And so it was written… - Big Ghost
The artwork, “Trophies,” for the week 3 track is yet another piece by the ever-talented Sam Spratt. (Love the D + G = CG on the chalkboard, by the way, as well as the kids going to camp. And is that “The Younger I Get” scribbled out at the bottom of the board? I think so.)
Big Ghost’s Week 2 Rant:
Ayo whattup…you back in the presence of the Mighty Hands of Zeus nahmean. Ayo son…the shit is gettin hectic up in my spot rite now namsayin. I was peepin this joint off the ipod that the dragon left on my balcony n shit…n this shit is gettin to a whole nother level b. Muthafuckas is elevatin mindstates rite now n doin some intellectual shit rite here son. This is some gettin to the heart of the matters types of shit rite here nahmean. I been absorbin this shit like a sponge yo. Not like the sponges that you be usin to wash dishes or scrub old people wit but like the kinds you find in oceans n shit namsayin. Im seein shit at the bottom of the oceans that I aint never seen before namsayin. Im feelin like the Zshock Koostow of this shit rite here b. Im havin visions of pyramids wit seven thousand exotic virgins nestled upon thine steps n shit par. I feel like Im walkin in the presence of Moses son. Except its like Moses is speakin thru the homie Nipsey Hussle or some shit my nigga. Son is spittin that Apocalyptic shit yo…like he jus galloped thru the tundra on a white polar bear to deliver his scriptures b. Niggas is out here standin on frozen blankets of thin ice namsayin…n here come Nipsey ridin on the back of a polar bear holdin two stone tablets n he got on his little snow goggles n he rockin the tennis racket joints on his feet n shit. Word is bond. And when he spit the bars its like he magnetically pullin niggas off the thin ice n bringin em to the hard surface n whatever whatever…the icebergs n shit of that nature. So niggas is like cool. We chillin over here now…n then son who be soundin mad familiar to me now comes in wit the hook…n its like “aight now we gon test yall niggas parkas n shit. Do yall niggas got the kinda parkas that can withstand these types of temperatures yo?” nahmean… Like muthafuckas pull yall off the ice jus so they can blow that cold wind on you b. Like “ayo we got you off the ice now you gon feel these chills n shit yo”…that Obama on a million dollar bill shit. This is not a test son. This is the actual actual shit now. Ayo son… muthafuckas is gon give you the poison jus so they can sell you the antidote b. This is warfare out here wit invisible enemies namsayin. We slaves to the machine son. Is yall equipped or yall jus gon let the forces that be put they little strings on ya arms n legs n make yall dance for the little crumbs that they throwin in ya mouths n shit? Like yall some hoes strippin to pay yall tuition n some bum niggas is makin it hail wit they little nickels n dimes up in that muthafucka. How we gon eat? Its too late for us b. Save the kids son. We doin this for the seeds. - Big Ghost
The artwork, “American Chariot,” for the week 2 track is yet another piece by the ever-talented Sam Spratt.
“Hope” - Single cover art commissioned by Childish Gambino aka Donald Glover by Sam Spratt
It’s been a bit surreal getting to work directly with one of my favorite actors/comedians/musicians. This Rockwellian scene of Black Americana is only the beginning, stay tuned. Download the awesome track “Untitled” for free in the link above (Seriously, it’s fucking amazing).
Wow, I can’t believe I overlooked this. The presumed cover art for Gambino’s Untitled was commissioned by one of the best, most popular artists on Tumblr and in the art world. Sam Spratt has created some truly wonderful pieces, and I suggest you go peruse more of his work.
“Donald Glover is someone who really inspires me. [This] mostly means that every time I’m in a slump, his comedy always cheers me up and gets me going. I wish I could send this to him somehow, but alas, Google does not have his address.” - Zanimonkey