it’s about rhymes. it’s about slightly s[h]ifted echoes of the times we used our hands (for steadier, they were, than feet) to stake our claims and take our stands. but we don’t stay still for long; some of us study the Fleet, and no few were fathered by foxes.
it’s about boxes. where we meet we crush some, make them floors to unwalled rooms. others b[l]oom with [fl]auralife, tell strident stories of streetwise strife.
it’s about muscle, and music, and money. we know it pays to find fresh ways to blend the fierce with what the faithless find funny.
Chalant’s first among us, and we heed when he speaks. “assertion’s the better part of valor,” he says, “and you’d better believe this pavement wasn’t willed to the meek.”