Smino Maybe In Nirvanazip _top_ 🎉

He’s not wearing a shirt, but he’s got on a pair of patchwork denim overalls with one strap undone. His hair is a galaxy of tight, springy curls, each one holding a tiny, humming neon light. In one hand, he’s holding a spliff that’s rolled with pages from a Sun Ra manifesto. In the other, a styrofoam cup of Lou’s sweet tea, which, in this dimension, is also a time signature.

Jalen double-clicked.

Smino is the unofficial mayor here. He’s also the gardener. He plants words like seeds. “Flea Flicker,” “Z4L,” “Rice N Gravy”—these aren’t just songs; they’re weather patterns. When he spits, it rains syllables that bounce off the pavement and turn into backup dancers. smino maybe in nirvanazip

I been on the road eatin’ gas station vegan Might crash out ‘fore the pension, uh She do her dance like she pregnant But she ain't showin’ yet, just a little depression That’s the 4th trimester, hormones like a blender I been sendin’ prayers through the speaker, hope the Lord remember Shawty say my heart too tender like I left it in November I told her, “Babe, that’s just the splendor of a nigga who surrender” (Sur-render) Ridin’ through the city with the moon roof cracked Got a blunt of somethin’ quiet, barely talkin’ back She say, “Why you always leavin’?” I say, “Why you always ask?” Then we laugh, then we crash into the mattress on the floor—no mattress Just a thought and a habit, I been spazzin’ in the attic All my exes got a status: “On read,” “On the fence,” “On some new shit” I’m just on some weird shit, Nirvanazip the new zip Took a Xanax with the shrooms, now the room do a two-step He’s not wearing a shirt, but he’s got