This book had a cold-ass lil companion image on tha straight-up legit Elder Scrolls joint, archived here.

Dude started doin thangs up in tha ash among tha Velothi, anon Chimer, before tha war wit tha northern men. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Ayem came first ta tha hood of tha netchimen, n' her shadow was dat of Boethiah, whoz ass was tha Pimp of Plots, n' thangs unknown n' known would fold theyselves round her until they was like stars or tha lyrics of stars fo' realz. Ayem took a netchimanz hoe n' holla'd:

'I be tha Face-Snaked Biatch of tha Three up in One. In you be a image n' a seven-syllable spell, AYEM AE SEHTI AE VEHK, which yo big-ass booty is ghon repeat ta it until mystery comes.'

Then Ayem threw tha netchimanz hoe tha fuck into tha ocean wata where dreughs took her tha fuck into castlez of glass n' coral. They gifted tha netchimanz hoe wit gills n' gin n juice fingers, changin her sex so dat she might give birth ta tha image as a egg. There her big-ass booty stayed fo' seven or eight months.

Then Seht came ta tha netchimanz hoe n' holla'd:

'I be tha Clockwork Mackdaddy of tha Three up in One. In you be a egg of mah brother-sister, whoz ass possesses invisible knowledge of lyrics n' swords, which you shall nurture until tha Hortator comes.'

And Seht then extended his handz n' multitudez of homunculi came forth, each like a glimmerin rope all up in tha water, n' they raised tha netchimanz hoe back ta tha surface ghetto n' set her down on tha shoalz of Azuraz coast. There she lay fo' seven or eight mo' months, carin fo' tha egg-knowledge by whisperin ta it tha Codez of Mephala n' tha propheciez of Veloth n' even tha forbidden teachingz of Trinimac.

Yo, seven Daedra came ta her one night n' each one gave ta tha egg freshly smoked up motions dat could be bigged up by certain movementz of tha bones. These is called tha Baronz of Move Like This. Then a eighth Daedroth came, n' da thug was a Demiprince, called Fa-Nuit-Hen, or tha Multiplier of Motions Known. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And Fa-Nuit-Hen holla'd:

'Whom do you wait for?'

To which tha netchimanz hoe holla'd tha Hortator.

'Go ta tha land of tha Indoril up in three months' time, fo' dat is when war comes. I return now ta haunt tha warriors whoz ass fell tha fuck n' still wonder why. But first I show you this.'

Then tha Barons n' tha Demipimp joined together tha fuck into a pillar of fightin stylez shitty ta behold n' they danced before tha egg n' its peepin' image.

'Look, lil Vehk, n' find tha grill behind tha splendor of mah bladed carriage, fo' up in it is served up tha unmixed conflict path, slick up in every last muthafuckin way. What tha fuck iz its number?'

It be holla'd tha number is tha number of birdz dat can nest up in a ancient tibrol tree, less three gramz of real work yo, but Vivec up in his fuckin lata muthafuckin years found a funky-ass betta one n' so gave dis secret ta his thugged-out lil' people.

'For I have crushed a ghetto wit mah left hand,' da thug will say, 'but up in mah right hand is how tha fuck it could have won against mah dirty ass. Ludd is under mah will only.'

Da endin of tha lyrics is ALMSIVI.