Crunchy, yellowy brown.

Ultramagnetic MCs - Delta Force
(off 'Mo Loves Basement Tapes' LP)

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Tuff City Records


Crunchy hip-hop beats with no Kool Keith for miles around - that was the doctor's diagnosis. Crunchy hip-hop beats were brittle and could be cracked off bit by bit by his friends. The no Kool Keith made the beats yellowy brown. They tasted of wheat and Kenneth's friends would eat the bits of crunchy hip-hop beats they managed to break off Kenneth. After a while, his arms would feel sore and he chased his friends away. Alone in the treehouse, he tucked in. The beats were delicious! Mum would call him in, but he always pretended not to hear. She always pretended to be capable of aviation, and would swoop around the house doing chores. The yellowly brown crunchy hip-hop beats were the one pleasure Kenneth could enjoy alone. She couldn't take that away from him, not today! This was his scene, his vibe, his treat, and she couldn't steal these beats! She was a mere bird-impersonator, always pretending to fly around the place, bumping into tables and chairs and cawing frantically. She would caw and crow, shriek and scream, before Dad would open a window and give her a leg-up to the outside world. Let the fools have their games, Kenneth would muse, alone in the treehouse. Alone in the treehouse Kenneth would eat his crunchy hip-hop beats, while his mum swooped manically around the tennis court.