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
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