I had never even seen a shooting star before. 25 years of rotations, passes through comets' paths, and travel, and to my memory I had never witnessed burning debris scratch across the night sky. Coolio was hunched over his hoes. He slowly beat off on a fat latina ass, rapping, eyes closed, into his pool noodle like he was trying to kiss around a big labia. A woman in a dragon suit sucked patiently on her tail, waiting for her cue. White pearls of cold water swam over their faces and t-shirts. A lazy disco light spilled artificial constellations inside the aluminum cove of the makeshift stage. The metal skeleton of the stage ate one end of some porn producer's summer house. I stared entranced, soaking in Coolio's new material, chiseling each sound into the best functioning parts of my brain which would be the only sound system for the material for months.

The experience and emotions tied to listening to "Take It to the Hub [Explicit]" are like witnessing the stillborn birth of a child while simultaneously having the opportunity to see her play in the afterlife on Imax. It's a single of sparking paradox. It's cacophonous yet tranquil, experimental yet familiar, foreign yet womb-like, spacious yet visceral, textured yet vaporous, awakening yet dreamlike, infinite yet 3 minutes. It will cleanse your brain of those little crustaceans of worries and inferior singles and porn websites clinging inside the fold of your gray matter. The harrowing sounds hit from unseen angles and emanate with inhuman genesis. When the headphones peel off, and it occurs that one man (and the staff of one of the largest porn distributors on the internet) created this, it's clear that Coolio must be the greatest artist alive. Breathing people made this record! And you can't wait to dive back in and try to prove that wrong over and over.