I first picked up a mic on a trip to Santiago, I told my parents I was going to the Chilean National Museum of Natural History to see the first Incan depiction of our kind.
We actually went to see Kanye and drink cheap Carménère, we wound up in this house party, someone was laying down some mad beats and these dog-turd Culpeos (that’s a kinda gangster fox) were spitting the worst bars I had ever heard in my life. I thought “nah, not in my house” it wasn’t actually my house but it was more of an abstracted sense of community I was referring to.
My boy Carlos gave the Culpeo holding the mic a neck slap and I grabbed the mic straight out of his clammy mitts. Inspired by the holy spirit of Kanye, I just started freestyling, about being a badass Guanaco neck-wrestler, about spitting when I’m ready to copulate and when I’m agitated, fight or fornicate am I right? “Let me hear all the guanacos say Hey! Let me hear all the vicuñas say Ho!” Pretty sure every llama in the place was bouncing on the tips of their flat 2 toes. I crowd served out of there when I was done, me and Carlos got silly that evening. In the morning, I woke up next to an Alpaca, I know, I know. Not even the shame of that could bring me down.
Yeah, my rise was meteoric like a cross between Picasso and Escobar. Every kid in the favelas new the name Guillermo but feared to speak it in case my genius would melt their face off… like a Chilean Voldemort. My face was on the back of every bus as I sold out arenas. Yet, I stayed true to my roots, I’d still go to Maipo, pay my respects to my folks, chill on my old patch with my crew.
It was on the cross section of those Pinot Noir vines, that my consciousness changed, like spiritually. These two human women were there walking through my patch bold as brass, banging on about terroir and ungrafted rootstock. I was gonna roll up to them and give them the neck-wrestling of a lifetime but they turned to me and offered me a glass of the new Pinot Vintage they were trying. It was transcendent, we sat around talking about the nuances of wine, the beauty of the region and how wine shouldn’t be the prerogative of the privileged; exceptional wine for every man, women and llama. I thought, these cats get it.