Posted 12:15 PM by Alfred

Hey, what’s up. Oh, one thing: I’m not Kool Keith. Well, I am, but I’m not. I’ve been through this before. Too many times. Anyway, people keep asking me, and it’s cool, really, but well, there you go. Ain’t me. I ain’t him and he ain’t me. You know I ain’t slim and my brim is kinda tilted, but not like that. not like you might think. Seriously. And Ced-Gee, c’mon, loc, I can’t get you back up in the game, you gotta call life-alert to hook that shit up. Serially, though, homey might be a multi-millionaire or one foot, shit, two, inna grave for all I know. Really doe.

You might think, well, shit, Alfred, that’s pretty fukn kool keith of you to SAY that you’re not kool keith, so, um, shit, maybe you ARE the genuine article. Whatevs, think what you like, it’s up to you to figure out what to believe and what to call bullshit on. Sad to say, I can’t really help you there, because, in all honesty, it’s prolly close to a 50/50 ratio, the real vs. dogshit that is, up in here, ie this here space. If you can’t handle the heat, turn off your tanning booth. Chuuch.

There are a lot of theories as to my true identity, most of which are imagined and fantasized about by me myself and never forget I. The idea of people wondering makes me ponder the variants in name rank and serial number that could possibly be devised to cause the fans friends and foes hallucinations based in multiple realities. Don’t forget that this is all just a fabrication of the little boy living in my throat, feeding me lines and verses and options by which to confuse and titillate, if I may be so bold, and if I may not, well, shut this bitch down if you got that kind of clout.

Fuck, maybe I am kool keith. Nah, just kidding. I’m not. Seriously. I’m just some dude. Some California kook. Some Hawaiian soul brudda with no soul and no brothers. Some mack cruising the mall looking for bells to rock. Some joker from okeefenokee, my glasses strapped with croakies, hollerin at my peeps and kickin’ okey dokeys. Ya feel me? Then try and find me. But good luck, cuz I ain’t in the book. The good one or the bad one or the yellow one. I am in the red one, well, actually, I answer a red phone, and yah, it’s the cops, but I don’t work for them and they don’t work for me. We help each other out when it’s mutually convenient. And yeah, when shit gets hectic I gotta go on the lamb, cuz if justice ain’t flowing then I ain’t mowing. Your lawn, that is.

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