“Invictus” C20 (Bonding Tapes)

Throw down your legally obtained firearms! Mr. Abstract Butta Fingas is continuously undefeated, yes, that’s what “invictus” means because I looked it up (do you think I speak Latin or something?), and there is nothing that you can do to upend his meteoric rise to global overlordship. Just listen to that production and tell me his beats aren’t the shit-tastic bombastic three-dimensional club traxxx, the plague that makes your booty move, infectiously thumping intensely sublime grooves. You pop this in your tape player like an aural antibiotic and all the cares of your Zika-infected mosquito blood will dissipate into a mixtape beatscape, acting as your own personal quarantine. Check that, let’s build a Mr. Abstract Butta Fingas wall of subwoofers around any xenophobic flashpoint to isolate only the greatest and best things in our lives. Let’s not share anything with anyone, just narcotize into a subviolent defensive haze. Somebody’s gotta have their finger on the safety trigger. I submit that we just let that “Somebody else” do it.

Throw down your legally obtained firearms! You won’t need them on the streets of San Diego in 2016; that head-nod action is video-game ready for special-move status – there will be no bosses able to contend. Invictus, undefeated, rolling through the city on a confidence high, power spiked to the red, Mr. Abstract Butta Fingas approaches partly in this plane of existence, partly on an unseen one, fully encompassed when seen through eyes that can perceive the totality. You will underestimate him as he approaches, and he will overcome. There is no defense, just pure submission. Invictus, a soundtrack to conquest, our fears soothed by the utter dominance. Let the blood pulse through disarmed veins. Let the groove saturate our dissatisfaction and numb our diseased anger. Music is the answer – music is the weapon. Remember where you were the day Mr. Abstract Butta Fingas rolled into town.

--Ryan Masteller