The worst is yet to come! In the chemo crystal ball, you can see the sickness oozing and pumping like crimson cataracts through the heart of this world. Rotten juice for crayon-chewing orphans of lost continents. Drooling in rainbows because their dreams haven't any color to spare. A fire burns in the sky, and it descends to the shore like a chariot tumbling over the knife's edge of a cliff, then all the skeletons rise from the salty residue of the sands, from where dragon's teeth have planted themselves in the surf at low tide, then they begin to speak, and their voices have the sunken timbre of an old hollow oak tree. One man floats amongst the ether of this wilderness of woe. Your most menacing nightmare is his daily inspiration. The ferment of his flow will cause a cold flush bead on the back of your neck. Distinguishably large due to his countless layers. He is Fatboi Sharif!
And if you're in town, he's coming through Chicago on October 20th and playing at the Sub T with Rav and Teller Bank$.
