For My Grandma

My Grandma taught me everything i know, and one of the things she repeated often was, “Dont Take No shit from nobody.”

Painted a lullaby and the child inside wanted to cry, physical description to show how I’ll die, I’ll replace every swear with a bleep, clean up my act and pledge in some prayers that my soul is for god to keep, fake like I’m indebted to religion, indentured to some sort of spiritual beginning. Buts its my Grandma who I’m owing, Edwina the Queen, I’m not going to fake like I have a hard gangster lean, but my family started the new haven scene, it was 1950s, travel back in time to get the definition of mean

A Clip of even numbers in my umbrella, alphabet cars painted blue, red, and vanilla, switched from acting hard to a pink hat like DJ Yella, and now I have a hell of a smell, for the misery, and the pain, I threw myself into rehabilitation with nothing to lose and  nothing to gain. I held pictures of my grandma to keep from going completely insane, shot caller in a mental institution sporting a benzodiazepine gleam from a whole different lane, I conquered my demons but I made it look plain.

That place erased all restrictions and moral, Desensitized to the violence but I can’t write raps about slinging Cristal , I can only embrace my Grandparents as my two best pals, the hate almost derailed my voyage home and I fucked up the tall roadblocks to the height of a gnome. I think about days sitting in room with blood dripping, I was crying all alone. If you had my genetics or looked through my eyes, why would you worry about dying when you roll the dice, Grandson of a Queen so why would I never not rise, blessed to be able to observe the stars, I can upgrade my home and crash a fast car. Through all my success my Gran will never go too far from my heart, sprinkle cigarette ashes on the daily depart

And with all this debauchery, some of us chose to go on and on about pubescent philosophy

And this is the plight of the living dead, verbatim is a death sentence so never quote what I said, now I’m reminiscing about the days when I didn’t have two thousand fans and the potential to publish a revolution right at my hands. Gil Scott Heron would be proud, passed down the asterisk and the slant, Black Panthers are gone but now I’m the man

Kool G Rap was on the edge of sanity, and now I sit back judging this calamity, the town is overflowing with drugs and prostitution to bring the grit to reality, calling out losers is just a formality, to win is like spewing debonair profanity and I’m crushing a hyped house of shit and I’m not talking about Amity, disturbing the peace to the metal of the wood and drawers that are shitty, I was bred in the underbelly of a ugly city, I’ve got the lock on the these other skinny cats, can’t touch me or the way I’m shitting facts

So fuck copyright, Fuck Rights and Motherfuck the peace, I’m the man behind the book taking a stance. My message contradicts my sickness, decided the winner early to add some speed and art to my hit list, who rhymes like this spitting in tongues with such quickness, I’ll bomb the world with mediocre physical fitness, I got this world on Lockdown and I see the horizon with my grandma as my witness. There were three sides to the story so when I finished my 180 degree spin, I contemplated solving the triangular equation before I’d begin, It is my pain that suggests suicide before  I win. I always worked to keep my mind, but god decided to not include me in the general population of mankind.

I got my butter from Calcutta without a pot to piss, can’t see me in a decade with a shiny gold wrist then I’ll help you see the future with an optometrist. Spat lines of ill shit with a major lisp, economist had me in the front sea while I sat back with a morphine drip, then I flipped and moderately constricted the script, I wrote this little book and promised my grandma I’d never ever slip, having my family in my heart with keep me from injury during my ego trip.

Maniacal motherfucker for goodness sake, I don’t wake and bake, and I hate and fake, like I don’t wake and pop, even with the world spinning around me I’ll never stop.

You can’t put a number next to my name, take a life from my surplus because I live life like a game, KKK stopped us in our car and I swear we never changed lanes, my grandma passed down BDI, Black Determined and Insane, I’m an abomination and a lion so ill slap you even if you think it’ll be easy for me to be tamed. I’m not the warm hearted boy I was raised to be

C17H21NO

(Chris)

 

A Breakthrough, to make you live with your descisions…to put you in position. Your one of us… Dottin’ COMS, droppin bombs on such a fragile system. The “Rounds” of a victim. VT to CT, and back. To know when our feelings react, with multicolored caps. Your sanity wouldn’t last, and to that we laugh. Oh the eyes of a deprived past… Cut the “highs” when physical systems collapsed.

 

 

 

(Anthony)

 

Chris and I are about to bring reality to this shit, my fear is the world is reading us crooked

 

It felt like we were waiting for decades so we took it for the dictatorship

 

I spell and pronounce the prophecy, it seems like this establishment kept its commonwealth naïve and illiterate

 

They taught them to spew out all this happy go lucky rhetoric

 

 

 

(Chris) Handling, ATAXIA to the MAX. While…Structures Keep You Trapped. With your head up high, at that. Lose the diet of meds, then fast.

 

(Anthony)

 

The macabre, I depend on it

 

Without it I’d be a happy invalid

 

Chasing Dreams that aren’t what they seem, rearrange my knuckles as I blow off steam

 

Add a dose of hate; let’s get down to the shit

 

Raise my digits quick but it’ll never be the end of it

 

 

 

(Chris) Evidence suggests that we stay away, from rat feins, who say they can Hear Our Pain. …And their brains can maintain, if we refrain, …from exposing their dreams of a higher place. So, wear the shoes of a holder to “constant change”. Feel hate, when we feel collective embrace.

 

 

 

 

 

(Anthony)

 

I was a lost soul, I lead by example

 

Bred to be a prodigy, with new souls to trample

 

I’ve got phantoms on my shoulders assembled; get side tracked by backwards emotions but I stay central

 

I’m fuckin mental

 

We swerve to the fast lane and the speed of sound stutters, we are raising prodigies

 

Brilliant oddities

 

In the distance you hear thunder

 

In my periphery

 

I sense wonder, What’s their history? Where do they come from? Why should this mean shit to me?

 

Mix double definitions of illness, a dual diagnosed calamity, Affluent in the language of insanity

 

God fucked with us, and we waited patiently, Spat modern Shakespeare in a brilliant rhyming pattern

 

If Men come from mars, then we originate from motherfucking Saturn

 

And If God is real, and then may he grant me the serenity to fuck you up

 

Let you feel the pain of the lepers

 

Let you Run out of Luck

 

 

 

(Chris) Fuck “The We”, Feed on 3 more. They contribute to a Farm-Party Of Four. Then feed the youth the main cause of war. Take a look. Fucking open your eyes. The drugged hold our streets with positive vibes. All the time. Steelys or Red Wine. Your superiors live life. Forget mine.

 

(Anthony)

 

Blame it on the Drugs, and the medicine?

 

Or the material that is made from ambition and pseudoephedrine

 

Write a Best seller without pills, well I’m dead then

 

I guess it’s cool for people to torture you half your life, domestic abuse for six years due to your own strife?

 

But Boy, you can be a born again Christian

 

My father paid his tribute, and the bullshit he will listen

 

I’ve got two brothers and mother and that’s my family

 

Chris and I are just beginning to stand tall; my father means fuck all

 

The Devil closed the door but I pick a good lock

 

I’m making six figures while getting taunted by a demon holding his Sesame street Cock?

 

I spew rhymes like rounds from a Glock, thinking about the days when my statistics were snug next to a blade in my tube sock

 

You say you feel my pain, I should be happy?

 

Are fucking stupid, or Just Daffy

 

I told you hate begets a book contract, so motherfuckers stay out of contact

 

I wrote a love poem to make up for what the world lacks

 

We hear abuse not a clap

 

This is Truth not rap

 

And I already killed cupid

 

I ostracized his wings, see you knew because you use his freshly cut ideology as your bling, you hypocrite romanticized normal thing  

 

(Chris) From the start, when sick, we sip potion. Then move on to the next forward motion. This could seem beyond my comotion. So Take A Minute and let make locomotion. …OF the word, your hopes in, a better world to loathe in. Start to feel you incline, slopin.

Drive to Aspire

I bet my life on the slots, and I don’t mean to name drop but if you are Dirty Harry then why do you need to call the cops?

 

Torturing the masses like Pol Pot, Spewing superior to you lot as my liver rots

 

Living on the budget but don’t mind the hole in my cot Supreme?

 

I think not, I’m just bending syllables to make life livable As prospects of the future become bigger, I bet on your demise with impressive figures Not the prodigal son, undisputed king of the litter

 

Used to be autumn now its winter, took a laxative and know I’m defecating librettos on the shitter

 

 

 

Had a background check looking valid, the roof is on fire but I’m to busy feasting on competition with a side of salad.

 

I’ve got an ace in my pocket beside my wocket; I stand parallel to the baseball bat coming for your eye socket

 

Perpendicular to the struggle, above average, my mother used to push around a savage in the baby carriage, ready to ravage but right now I have to focus on food on the table and keeping on the cable, don’t give a fuck if you’re able to do things now that I can’t

 

My present is the future, so return to your hill little Ant

 

 

 

We know the true story, its pitch black and we’re blindly chasing glory

 

It’s not ok to hear my mother cry at night, breaking nails to hang onto the Edge of the Earth

 

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t made it on my birth, other times I feel like the chosen one

 

Disturbed by the billing and the economical killing, smiling in denial of the payments stacking up in a towering pile, enough to make me suicidal

 

The fantasy is dead; the Reality has been read, holding on to the future by a crack

 

I write the fiction, while the aftermath spells the facts

 

 

 

 

 

I’m living with a purpose because I swear my endeavors are perpendiculars to your verses my mind is thirsty for knowledge and creative visions

 

I’m hiking up my ambition with a pistol to my temple, the future is so bright because the mathematics are displayed so clear and the critics are dreaming simple

 

Passed off as a fool, but now I use the doubt as my tool

 

Writing novels with a noose around my neck and one foot on the stool

 

Fuck what’s cool; new horizons are the contradiction because I’m writing facts while your persona is laced with fiction

 

Speaking simple diction, I’ve got something for the friction

 

Sweating with full exposure, I hear the competition had some openings before I brought them to a closure

 

Success was written but these months call for full composure

 

Corrupted the times, abstract rhymes that snort lines with haste

 

Spit out ill shit because they don’t like the taste

 

While most of the world copy and pastes, I’m charging with velocity because I don’t have time to give you a chance, the power’s going off so in the dark your stanzas dance and while you are prancing and standing where I’d like to be, As the darkness sweeps through the city, I defy poverty and pity as a trendy oddity with the ingenuity to play on your inadequacy

 

My future depends on me

Do or DIE

I teemed with Inspirations, Jr. King created the Team of Leaders. Our words are decidant in wife beaters, while the bar us set so high, these days the monsters half step while the new generation calls in the bets. The captains feel the crunch, the business is out to lunch, our craft was created straight from the roots of the milieu with enough persistance to kill you while staying calm, i leaned over to light my passion ftom the flames of an H-Bomb

The old takes from the new, thats why their verbatim sounds like something we grew. There is nothing redeeming about these youth, they dont need sauce to eat your face, and when the law persists they stay silent with style and grace. This is monoply, we role the dice just to keep going, my ma was robbed in a vicious way. Should I wear a suit and tie, to cover my scars as the ignorance starts to multiply. The misconception is when you do something wrong you die, is that why my race is haunted by Trayvons cry? Or when our dividend falls short again and again, should we riot or discuss the weather with a politician, because i see clouds. Ill look the other way, say yes to my white master and shut the fuck up, because there is no god, just luck

The man on the moon yelled Do or Die, but Im still to sick with skill to listen, ive been over the hill and oh lord im ill, suffering from symptoms of my philosophy, and I still vomit when surrounded by mediocrity. Sing to the Truth, Sing to a cry, because i cant take it anymore. Jr. King’s a savage, but these arent times of war. We celebrate peace, however our insecurities endorsed and advertised, like we are the undesirable beast. Its end of the lies, we can come together and fight. There isnt anything to occupy, but there is light to shine, so lets shine it bright. Its positive over negative, right?

While observing flowers and doves, preach about why we should love, all of each other, Ill be raising these offspring like a mother. Perform open mics in candy shops, with all day suckers, channeling my inner motherfucker, i made a fashion statement with a bulletproof vest, im not the best yet, some people should write Grandin down so they dont forget me before i become a vocabulary vet. Tell my mom’s co-workers to friend me on facebook now, before i become the Day-Grandin farms most valuable cash cow. I growl as I plant seeds into the lands my enslaved brothers once plowed, the pain you once allowed, and now we have latinos running blacks out. I had a vision, to make the smallest incision, and make it grow with a fastidious precision. My grandma told me, boy get off your ass, its time to write. So to her delight, fuck your feelings, ill have your dignity hanging from the ceiling. My grandma sat me down and said Follow your dreams its Do or Die, so i started to cry and i made my limit the sky

C17H21NO (Benadryl)

(Chris)

 

A Breakthrough, to make you live with your descisions…to put you in position. Your one of us… Dottin’ COMS, droppin bombs on such a fragile system. The “Rounds” of a victim. VT to CT, and back. To know when our feelings react, with multicolored caps. Your sanity wouldn’t last, and to that we laugh. Oh the eyes of a deprived past… Cut the “highs” when physical systems collapsed.

 

 

 

(Anthony)

 

Chris and I are about to bring reality to this shit, my fear is the world is reading us crooked

 

It felt like we were waiting for decades so we took it for the dictatorship

 

I spell and pronounce the prophecy, it seems like this establishment kept its commonwealth naïve and illiterate

 

They taught them to spew out all this happy go lucky rhetoric

 

 

 

(Chris) Handling, ATAXIA to the MAX. While…Structures Keep You Trapped. With your head up high, at that. Lose the diet of meds, then fast.

 

(Anthony)

 

The macabre, I depend on it

 

Without it I’d be a happy invalid

 

Chasing Dreams that aren’t what they seem, rearrange my knuckles as I blow off steam

 

Add a dose of hate; let’s get down to the shit

 

Raise my digits quick but it’ll never be the end of it

 

 

 

(Chris) Evidence suggests that we stay away, from rat feins, who say they can Hear Our Pain. …And their brains can maintain, if we refrain, …from exposing their dreams of a higher place. So, wear the shoes of a holder to “constant change”. Feel hate, when we feel collective embrace.

 

 

 

 

 

(Anthony)

 

I was a lost soul, I lead by example

 

Bred to be a prodigy, with new souls to trample

 

I’ve got phantoms on my shoulders assembled; get side tracked by backwards emotions but I stay central

 

I’m fuckin mental

 

We swerve to the fast lane and the speed of sound stutters, we are raising prodigies

 

Brilliant oddities

 

In the distance you hear thunder

 

In my periphery

 

I sense wonder, What’s their history? Where do they come from? Why should this mean shit to me?

 

Mix double definitions of illness, a dual diagnosed calamity, Affluent in the language of insanity

 

God fucked with us, and we waited patiently, Spat modern Shakespeare in a brilliant rhyming pattern

 

If Men come from mars, then we originate from motherfucking Saturn

 

And If God is real, and then may he grant me the serenity to fuck you up

 

Let you feel the pain of the lepers

 

Let you Run out of Luck

 

 

 

(Chris) Fuck “The We”, Feed on 3 more. They contribute to a Farm-Party Of Four. Then feed the youth the main cause of war. Take a look. Fucking open your eyes. The drugged hold our streets with positive vibes. All the time. Steelys or Red Wine. Your superiors live life. Forget mine.

 

(Anthony)

 

Blame it on the Drugs, and the medicine?

 

Or the material that is made from ambition and pseudoephedrine

 

Write a Best seller without pills, well I’m dead then

 

I guess it’s cool for people to torture you half your life, domestic abuse for six years due to your own strife?

 

But Boy, you can be a born again Christian

 

My father paid his tribute, and the bullshit he will listen

 

I’ve got two brothers and mother and that’s my family

 

Chris and I are just beginning to stand tall; my father means fuck all

 

The Devil closed the door but I pick a good lock

 

I’m making six figures while getting taunted by a demon holding his Sesame street Cock?

 

I spew rhymes like rounds from a Glock, thinking about the days when my statistics were snug next to a blade in my tube sock

 

You say you feel my pain, I should be happy?

 

Are fucking stupid, or Just Daffy

 

I told you hate begets a book contract, so motherfuckers stay out of contact

 

I wrote a love poem to make up for what the world lacks

 

We hear abuse not a clap

 

This is Truth not rap

 

And I already killed cupid

 

I ostracized his wings, see you knew because you use his freshly cut ideology as your bling, you hypocrite romanticized normal thing  

 

(Chris) From the start, when sick, we sip potion. Then move on to the next forward motion. This could seem beyond my comotion. So Take A Minute and let make locomotion. …OF the word, your hopes in, a better world to loathe in. Start to feel you incline, slopin.

Pen on Paper

 

 

I don’t understand why they can’t make this chain gleam, why can’t I keep the walls clean?

When I slaughtered the competition blood splattered everywhere

I have visitors coming by but I don’t care, the mess is a sign of my ascension

My reputation, isn’t one that’s to nice

I reject Christ, I tried to off myself twice and was never a fan of Obie Trice
Thoughts were itching viciously and they thought I had lice

Used to brainstorm as a young child, teased almost to death for my belief in thought

Killed a few rhymes in my times but haven’t been caught

I may not be the man that you sought but I’m a problem

My era has been delayed massively, as]p

I wait dissing close friends and family passively

I spat illness nastily, throw up paragraphs with the propensity to add words to the sky

Growing up my household was do or die, I wrote the yesterday so what do you think?

Now I’ve got a couple dollars to spend and a good shrink

A good reason to continue to blink, each day I’m evolving into something new as I think

There is a pause between each inquisition, As the fair weather turn cloudy and change their position

How do I make the decision to bring home a win?

Believe me I’m a cool cat, but try to double team the best and where’s the party at?

Knock you cold, and wouldn’t even drop my party hat or my night cap!

Not feeling scared these days, just trying to figure out how to pass time in different ways

But can end your hopes and fears with one swirl of my pen on paper, the death of love to make the world safer

 

Spitting in the Face of Trauma (ill)

I want to bleed them dry, I’ll Never die, ill immortalize my name, Although I’d take a very nice pen over nice cars and fame, Go!

 

I’m gonna dance as your pendulum swings, I’m gonna grace the sky as you start thinking about when to begin, No! I want to end when they start spitting benign words, I want to roll my dice and never die, and I want to take your pitiful ego and bleed it dry

 

 

 

I hear them laughing as I wake up in hell, but I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix well, I’m perpendicular to sick, parallel to whatever is left, I want to go iLL and stand still, I never took my eyes away when I wasn’t the predator but the kill

 

Now I dance to an ominous tune, I’m the king of the hill, independent of the population’s unrealistic lust of the dollar bill, I repudiate therapy and request for the slub to twist aside, I smile as the painful episodes subside, this is the season and I’m ready for war, but I have to stay alive as my mind contemplates treason, I continually attempt to outsmart reason

 

 

 

I told you I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix, above adolescence so please save your tricks, you cant insure this type of fire, you can’t stare at the starlight as the game switches lanes. These rules are insane, but my grandma said beat them up, Plain

 

 

 

Yo, you don’t know my past so don’t judge my present pain, you can’t predict my iLL tendencies, you could pick the day when I’ve fired my restraint, and I’ve earned the right to reign upon what is left, I’m Ambidextrous, so I’ll always have the upper hand, I’m a poor excuse of a man but I have the most desirable girl in the land, YES!

 

 

 

Every time I publish a poem I spit in the trauma that won’t leave me alone yeah, because you aren’t talking to a typical body laced with perfection, this is the shit coming from the poster boy of something killer that embraces his own rejection, I’m just iLL far from an infection. I rock my head to Indie pop, my wordplay transcends a common flow, call it Poetic Diddy Bop

 

 

 

Yeah, I’m Going to Do it, make it look pretty in every way, I want to be her city everyday

 

Yeah, I’m going to Do it, stand by everything I ever did say, I want to be with my Dad everyday

 

 

 

Motherfuck this god damn Cabaret, I’m gonna glorify my sickness and Identity. Don’t step on my amendment, constantly, this is way too dramatic to be a play, but don’t distort the arrangement or skip the foreplay, you’ll have a youthful Killswitch Engagement, so watch what you Say

 

Stay and mix my emotion, I think about disses and chaos, as my cat pisses and licks his missing balls, just like I wrote this piece and duty calls, my grandma told me, beat them up plain

 

Touch the sky strong, and make my spherical heart oblong, I’ll turn my suffering into a song, a golden oldie instead of trying to keep it where it belongs. I wrote survivor art and a renaissance, I’m far beyond living for what’s right and wrong…

 

I’m going to do it for my grandma so every time she wakes up, she can see her grandson is keeping it tough

 

I’m Going to do it for my grandma so every time she wakes up, she can see her grandson is keeping it tough

 

Hit It Yeah! I wish life was fair, but I have to enjoy the time and not make it so rough, I’m gonna hold her hand so when she wakes up, I can remind her that I stayed tough…

 

 

WordSmith

Writers block is an affliction, i voyaged downstream to conflict my addiction. I dropped it like a bad habit, i blended animation with reality like Roger Rabbit, then threw in animosity to be emphatic. The writers block kept me in a straightjacket, humming a tune. He’d feed me once in a blue moon.

So i sat in the corner, creating a masterpiece in my head. The block struck my idea dead, and i cried for hours, i heard the ringing of the aecidic showers. The depressed apologist in the shadow of a high tower. I saw no flowers, or any beauty, my brain fought back but the block forced mutiny. I observed the waves of social regimes, i watched as the upper echelon prowled. I handled my heart by my spirit growled. It was time to write, Die or Fight. Take these clouds to an ominous sight. and build narrative around pure spite. Sprinkle the future with seeds, i wanted to watch something grow while my spirit fed upon the poetic dictator. A caniving self induced player hater.

So i built and i planned, the drive of fire never left my hand. The chains hurt my gaunt leg, that night was the worse because i was forced to plead and beg. Who the fuck said life was easy, the difficulty level continued to rise enough to make any punk queasy. I was born a wordsmith, assassinating every obstacle with my whimsical gift. This was my honor, my pain, and glory. I weave hate and love into a beautiful story, with a cruel end. As the world crumbles, ill leave my live to send.

It was sunrise and i opened my tired eyes. The sun shined a light on my fears, on the tears of a lost and dying soul. But my grandma taught not to listen to bullshit, so i tore off my ear. I was covered in blood, warmed my motivation of a savage improvisation. Its mud before the trophy above, the war came before the flock of doves. I pulled my leg from the chain, gradually leaving behind a past that was so bleak. Im Grandin, minutes, hours, days passed by i stand by my crash landing.

I was gone, the prison walls were burnt with my prototype heart. I had my armor and my pen, motherfucker Im ready to start. I wrote a symphony, comprised of jubilant lyrics and a falsetto heretic. I created an entity, my name is Grand in nature, so just call me the Brotha man. I had an epiphany, I love you, you love me, this world evolves, everyday there is more to see. I visited guilt’s grave while keeping every sweet memory I could save. Writers Block had an upper hand, Yo, im ambidextrous. This is a Statement

Some Bullshit

 
I Like to…
Return the favor
I got god’s cell phone because i robbed an angel
Hand gestures that looks like a gun
I’m young, going on and on some nights like i’m fun
Is it me or has the tide turned
Feeling a little cold in here, chill gone down your spine
Rhymes becoming less sensitive
Trade morals for success
Those three words, aren’t in my head like they used to be
Crying about some bullshit, emotions on the rise
Tension all throughout the house
Teeth grinding and your fists clinched, bringing back the days with youthful death stares
Prophecies about your demise become an actual plan, praying on your hopes and fears in a religious institution

Feeling beat like their heat pressed to my temple on a cold winter day
Better rub some bengay on those joints because i’ve been stretching you thin
Hurting your pride, hurting you like a lovers lie
Talent, couldn’t have given to a worse guy
Standing breathless, knocked the wind out of the sentence, like a misplaced comma
Whining about some bullshit, getting involved in some drama
Petty thieves committing murder
Elevated my urine test, but now it’s time to step a little further

Song of the Day 8/29/2013 (SORRY A LITTLE LATE)

(Freestyling over one of the most coveted beats of all time is no small task. The bigger challenge is sounding good, Big L did it and it’s arguable that Jadakiss did as well. But K.Dot did it the best, back when he was known as K.Dot. And it’s only fitting that I have a Kendrick Lamar song in my songs of the day, the man has revitalized rap and spearheaded the new Golden Age. Now it’s not as good as the other one, we don’t have the same quality rappers that we had then. But there is some serious young talent out there, and during a time when nobody was challenging anyone else, Kendrick Lamar dissed the shit out of America’s most beloved city. The saddest part is the dismal responses that were returned to Mr. K.Dot. New York should be fucking ashamed of itself, or at least the rappers should be. But I wouldn’t advise Kendrick Lamar to come to New York anytime soon. Anyway, the Who Shot Ya freestyle is absolutely brilliant. Featuring clever worldplay, metaphors and Kendrick gets deep into the actual song by making it his own. Bravo to you sir!)