Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
New Orleans-bred hip-hop artist Nicky Da B is crazy. He's CRAAAAZEEEE. Kinda like that. He's in-fucking-sane and we couldn't be happier that he is the way that he is. He makes us feel:
-- like we would be willing to stuff as much Jell-O or spaghetti into our underwear as he suggested we try. We'd keep it there until it all jiggled out naturally, which wouldn't take all that long, he's assured us.
-- like we no longer sweat sweat. It's like we now sweat confetti and the fluid that's most normally found in glow sticks.
-- like we're being mauled by a sadistic Nintendo console that's come back from the dead, is stronger than 10 grizzly bears and hasn't had sex in a long time.
-- like it's his weed talking.
-- like it's your weed talking.
-- like we ARE freaks, like we ARE nasty and we're shaking all of our private parts as if we were spazzing out, convulsing.
-- like this can't really be happening.
-- like we're going to wake up with the worst headache and the biggest smile on our face.
-- like we're going to go to hell.
-- like every night should be a special and messy.