I wrote a poem about a Denver rapper.

Blunter went hunting for that what’s sticky and kush. Came home with a bag that held a stinky little bush. Rolled it all up and he set it a blaze. Started rippin on a mic and spewing white-hot flames. Sounded like a villain, he was killin it such. His quotes were turnin golden ‘cause he was feelin the Touch. He plays foil to tracks when he attacks with sharp tongue. Melted off the wax on all the decks that Bricka’s spun. Gettin dumb for fun and takin shots into space. Word to Elevation Sickness, smoked like hams in space.