The Scratch Ticket...

You can only hope for a win....If you have enough faith, you just might get it...

In all that has happened, one can say that DaChamp is probobly on edge and ready to fall off, I know some of yall read my shit like what the fuck? Understood, I do tend to put em out there, and yes I was on edge, but as far as I'm concerned....

NO FALLING OFF.

Fuck dat, NO REALLY FUCK DAT. I have too much talent for you bitches(m&f) who think that you are in my head, this brain of mine has been working overtime trying to figure things out for myself and yes, my time here on God's green is for a reason. Inside of me, sits a little version of myself just dying to come out, that's the asshole I left behind years ago when I grew up. You may have seen him doing cameo's on my blog, or those times where you went to the mall and caught a fish eye from acting like a damn fool. That asshole is still there, but only comes out when I'm pushed. Right now, he's asleep. For some that's a good thing.

For others? You got off lucky, I refuse to sit back and allow someone who holds no allegiance to me to enter my head, and I've been successful at that. My phone rang once today, and after getting off of work early, I see it hasn't rang again. Looks like someone got the message.

Firm for life bitches, there's only two left, and you know what? It couldn't be more tighter than that. Then again....

also...
Big up my people's in RI, this just might be the calling I need to proceed...

last but not least...a quickie for those who don't know.

I move up slowly with smoothness of an escalator
In hopes of rising above my level from the haters
No need in life for reporters or commentators
Especially the ones who aren't even playin'
or coachin'
just spectators
See that no-look pass? Me cleaning the glass?
Another ankle broke, from crossin over that ass?
I'm your new teacher welcome to my flight class
You just a groupie from ol' Mass take a seat on the grass
My number one fan sits inside where the air condition blasts
where the heart beats basslines
motions captured in silence making moves like a mime
smiles that aren't meant for you
thoughts truly not into you
bash my people's? what the fuck? you make me wanna stop playin and come after you
but that energy was spent making sure I erased you
throw the ball over the fence like Jesus did in He Got Game
times changed and you still think that a feeling remains?
Just some bad thoughts and a good shit with toilet bowl stains
flushed down some pipe with a cell of memory from the brain
do us all a favor and please forget my name
I got work to do, and want to get back in the game....

I'm out yall be cool
daChamp