damn i done switched poisons again. im letting the screwdriver twist into my liver. fuck that malt liquor crap, shit'll get you chunky.
and i was pounding them bottles on the daily, not letting one drop touch anything other than my waiting tongue. fuck the dead homies, what have they done for me lately? the empty bottles that began to clutter my office, with the last few piss colored sips pooled at the bottom like an undefeated sign of resilience, started to close in on me though. a constant reminder of my sickness. i had to clean that shit up just to get my head straight. i had to change shit around so that i left less clues too. so i got rid of the bottle factor, and got myself some vodka and orange juice. now it'll just be the pint glasses that pepper the apartment, and if i wash and use the same glass, ill even minimize that factor.
man, niggas be up outside my window hollerin on the celly like they up in the club. shit be gettin on my nerves. and its not because im mad at fools gettin all loud outside the crilla, cuz i know ive been that nigga some nights [waking mufuckas up, gettin embarrassed when they make a big show of closing their windows], but damn yo, if i hear some loud ass cussin outside my spot and i peep out the window all sly tryin to investigate, there better been some drama going down! i dont wanna see no chump arguing with his girlfriend, or worse yet, his MAMA! damn dog, take that shit to crown heights, this park slope nigga!
and while im on the subject, and in the mood to bitch, what the fuck is up with these fools using their cell phone like a walkie talkie? man, imma cut the earlobe off the next punk i see holding their cell phone two inches from their face listening to the garbled nonsense of some other chump coming out the cell phone "speaker." FOOL ITS A CELL PHONE!!! what the fuck you gonna hold the phone inches from your face for and not just put that shit up to your ear? i swear!
really, like anyone else gives a rats fucking bacteria riddled shit about the conversation you are having with rico up in westchester. fool aint talkin bout nuthin anyway. and its not like the sound is clear enough to hear what the fuck hes saying unless you have the shit right up to your ear regardless. did he like 'Must Love Dogs' or did he think it lacked character development? did his grandmother finish baking the banana bread before CSI Miami came on or did she have a stroke? is his girlfriend pregnant or just fat? i dont know, i couldnt tell. it wasnt clear enough. well maybe next time you should PUT THE FUCKIN PHONE NEXT TO YOUR EAR and i wont have to worry about it! fucking swamp ass funny smelling crackhead lips havin...
dude. gay country. gay. country! finally the two worlds meet! i mean, there are a lot of country dudes i think might be full on flaming, but i can never tell because wearing ascots, tight jeans, and shits without sleeves may be gay, but its also pretty county. this guy though, i have no doubt in my mind that he tongue tickles testicles and FUCKIN LOVES IT. ive got a lot of gay friends, and i dont think one of them has ever admitted to liking country music. but this guy, hes like billy ray cyrus and kevin spacey all wrapped in one scrumdiddliumptios pair of wranglers. and check out how he has a song called 'Lazy Mexican." haha. faggot.
and as a bonus [both of these links courtesy the drum clinic] gay rap parodies! [some hilarity involved]
anyway, its hot. mad hot. crazy hot. stupid hot. caliente. muy caliente. loco caliente even. fools got sweat on their toes, on their eyelids, on their knees. for real, i aint lyin. i think im gonna go slip into my all mesh outfit, eat a bowl of chocolate ice cream and watch Room Raiders. that or roll a spliff and have another drink.