[QUOTE]Adolf Hitler (German: [ˈad�"lf ˈhɪtlɐ] ( listen); 20 April 1889 �" 30 April 1945) was a Austrian-born German sucka n' tha leader of tha Nazi Party (German: Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei (NSDAP); Nationizzle Socialist German Workers Party) yo. Dude was chancellor of Germany from 1933 ta 1945 n' dictator of Nazi Germany (as Führer und Reichskanzler) from 1934 ta 1945 yo. Hitla was all up in tha centre of Nazi Germany, Ghetto Battle Pt II up in Europe, n' the Holocaust.
Hitla was a thugged-out decorated veteran of Ghetto Battle I yo. Dude joined tha German Workers' Party (precursor of tha NSDAP) up in 1919, n' became leader of tha NSDAP up in 1921. In 1923, he attempted a coup up in Munich ta seize juice n' shit. Da failed coup resulted up in Hitlerz imprisonment, durin which time da thug freestyled his crazy-ass memoir, Mein Kampf (I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Struggle) fo' realz. After his bangin release up in 1924, Hitla gained ghettofab support by comin' all up in tha Treaty of Versaillez n' biggin' up Pan-Germanism, antisemitism, n' anti-communism wit charismatic oratory n' Nazi propaganda yo. Hitla frequently denounced internationistic capitalism n' communism as bein part of a Jewish conspiracy.
Hitlerz Nazi Jam became tha phattest democratically erected jam up in tha German Reichstag, leadin ta his thugged-out appointment as chancellor up in 1933. Peepin fresh erections won by his coalition, tha Reichstag passed tha Enablin Act, which fuckin started tha process of transformin tha Weimar Republic tha fuck into tha Third Reich, a single-party dictatorshizzle based on tha totalitarian n' autocratic ideologizzle of Nationizzle Socialism yo. Hitla aimed ta eliminizzle Jews from Germany n' establish a New Order ta counter what tha fuck da perved-out muthafucka saw as tha injustice of tha post-Ghetto Battle I internationistic order dominated by Britain n' Frizzle yo. His first six muthafuckin years up in juice resulted up in rapid economic recovery from tha Great Depression, tha denunciation of restrictions imposed on Germany afta Ghetto Battle I, n' tha annexation of territories dat was home ta millionz of ethnic Germans, actions which gave his ass dope ghettofab support.
Hitla actively sought Lebensraum ("livin space") fo' tha German people yo. His aggressive foreign policy is considered ta be tha primary cause of tha outbreak of Ghetto Battle Pt II up in Europe yo. Dude pimped up large-scale rearmament n' on 1 September 1939 invaded Poland, resultin up in British n' French declarationz of war on Germany. In June 1941, Hitla ordered a invasion of tha Soviet Union. By tha end of 1941 German forces n' they European allies occupied most of Europe n' Uptown Africa. Failure ta defeat tha Soviets n' tha entry of tha United Hoodz tha fuck into tha war forced Germany onto tha defensive n' it suffered a seriez of blowin tha fuck up defeats, kinda cuz of Hitlerz countless military blunders. In tha final minutez of tha war, durin tha Battle of Berlin up in 1945, Hitla hooked up his fuckin long-time freak, Eva Braun. On 30 April 1945, less than two minutes later, tha two committed suicide ta avoid capture by tha Red Army, n' they corpses was burned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Under Hitlerz leadershizzle n' racially motivated ideology, tha regime was responsible fo' tha genocide of at least 5.5 mazillion Jews, n' millionz of other suckas whom he n' his wild lil' followers deemed racially inferior.[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]Hitlerz Nazi Jam became tha phattest democratically erected jam up in tha German Reichstag[/QUOTE]
Rocket Raccoon be a fictional superhero whoz ass appears up in comic books published by Marvel Comics. Created by thug Bizzle Mantlo n' artist Keith Giffen, tha character first rocked up in Marvel Preview #7 (Summer 1976) yo. Dude be a intelligent, anthropomorphic raccoon, whoz ass be a expert marksman n' masta tactician yo. His name n' aspectz of his character is a nod ta tha Beatlez' 1968 cold lil' woo wop "Rocky Raccoon".
Rocket Raccoon rocked up as a prominent member up in tha 2008 relaunch of tha superhero crew Guardianz of tha Galaxy. Da character has rocked up in nuff muthafuckin media adaptations as a gangmember of dat crew, includin animated television series, toys, n' video games yo. Dude appears up in tha 2014 live-action film Guardianz of tha Galaxy, wit his voice provided by Bradley Cooper.
[QUOTE][B]Mario Kart 7[/B] Mario Kart 7 be a 2011 racin vizzle game n' tha seventh major installment up in tha Mario Kart series, pimped by Nintendo EAD n' Retro Studios n' published by Nintendo fo' tha Nintendo 3DS. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Similar ta previous game up in tha series, playas participate up in go-kart racin on various Mario-themed tracks, playin as one of seventeen different Mario characters.[/QUOTE]
[IMG]http://i.imgur.com/YlualsA.png[/IMG]
Yo Faggots,
Hoes call me John, n' I don't give a fuck bout every last muthafuckin single one of yo thugged-out ass fo' realz. All of yo ass is fat, retarded, no-lifes whoz ass spend every last muthafuckin second of they dizzle lookin at wack ass pictures. Yo ass is every last muthafuckin thang wack up in tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Honestly, have any of y'all eva gotten any pussaaaaay, biatch? I mean, I guess it’s funk makin funk of playas cuz of yo' own insecuritizzles yo, but you all take ta a whole freshly smoked up level. This is even worse than jerkin off ta pictures on facebook.
Don’t be a stranger n' shit. Just hit me wit yo' dopest shot. I’m pretty much perfect. I was captain of tha footbizzle crew, n' starter on mah basketbizzle crew. What game do you play, other than "jack off ta naked drawn Japanese people", biatch? I also git straight A’s, n' gotz a funky-ass bangin bangin' hoe (Bitch just blew me; Shiznit was SO chedda). Yo ass be all playas whoz ass should just bust a cap up in yourselves. Thanks fo' listening.
Pic Related: It’s me n' mah biiiatch
[quote]
Our Land
Our land, our land, our fatherland,
Sound loud, O name of worth!
No mount dat meets tha heavenz band.
No hidden vale, no wavewashed strand.
Is loved, as is our natizzle North. Our own forefathers' earth.
Thy blossom, up in tha bud laid low,
Yet ripened shall upspring.
See biaaatch! From our ludd once mo' shall grow
Thy light, thy joy, thy hope, thy glow!
And clearer yet one dizzle shall rang Da cold lil' woo wop our land shall sing.
[/quote]
Finland's national anthem has never sounded more beautiful.
[quote=Monkey_123]im bustin up. we is gonna be skanky. oh fuck oh fuck i need ta email garry n' demand a refund[/quote]
[QUOTE]
[B]General[/B]
Most rulez is common sense n' it would therefore be impossible ta list all tha thangs you could ta ta git yo ass banned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This page aint actin as a cold-ass lil complete list of bannable offenses - it instead aims ta clear up some mad drama bout dem rulez dat may not be obvious.
As a general rule if you wouldn't do it up in real game don't do it on tha forums.
[B]Piracy And Leaks
[/B]Yo ass won't banned fo' warez/leaks unless:
• Yo ass provide links
• Yo ass ask fo' links
• Yo ass hint at where ta download
• Yo ass openly declare or brag bout dat shit
Postin screenshots/videoz of pirated/leaked content is fine.
[B]Nuditizzle n' Sex[/B]
Postin of nuditizzle n' sex is fine - up in tha right context. For example:
• Postin nuditizzle up in a thread bout trains will git you banned.
• Postin nuditizzle up in a thread bout bangin' naked ladies won't git you banned.
Garryz Mod 'porn' n' 'sexposes' is forbidden except up in tha GMF n' OIFY.
[B]Image Macros[/B]
Image macros is wack n' will git you banned - wit tha followin exception
• Yo ass won't git banned if you personally have made a image macro especially fo' dat reply
What dis is sayin basically is don't post image macros from image macro cribs. They're not funky.
[B]Image Posting[/B]
Postin big-ass images won't git you banned n' wherever possible itz encouraged ta post yo' images up in tha thread rather than linkin ta em. There is no upper limit ta tha size of images you can post. Obviously if you postin big-ass images wit tha aim of buggin or trollin other forum playas yo big-ass booty is ghon git banned fo' dat shit.
[B]Garry[/B]
Garry don't need ta provide a legitimate reason ta ban mah playas. These is his wild lil' forums. If you a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dick ta his ass da thug will ban you no matter how tha fuck right or wack yo ass is.
[/QUOTE]
Da hood Jupiter has 67 confirmed moons. This gives it tha phattest retinue of moons wit "reasonably secure" orbitz of any hood up in tha Solar System. In fact, Jupiter n' its moons is like a miniature solar system wit tha inner moons orbitin fasta than tha others. Eight of Jupiter’s moons is regular satellites, wit prograde n' nearly circular orbits dat is not pimped outly inclined wit respect ta Jupiter’s equatorial plane. Da remainder of Jupiter’s moons is irregular satellites, whose prograde n' retrograde orbits is much farther from Jupiter n' have high inclinations n' eccentricities. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! These moons was probably captured by Jupiter from solar orbits, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. There is 17 recently discovered irregular satellites dat aint yet been named.
Da series bigs up "Da Gang", a crew of five depraved underachievers: twins Dennis Reynolds n' Deandra "Sweet Dee" Reynolds; they playaz Charlie Kelly, Ronald "Mac" McDonald, and, from season 2 onward, Frank Reynolds, tha playa whoz ass raised Dennis n' Dee. Da Gang runs tha dilapidated Paddyz Pub, a Irish bar up in Downtown Philadelphia.
Each gangmember of tha gang shows varyin degreez of dishonesty, egotism, selfishness, greed, pettiness, ignorance, lazinizz n' unethical behavior, n' they is often engaged up in controversial activities. Put ya muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel dis! Episodes probably find dem hatchin elaborate schemes, conspirin against one another n' others fo' underground gain, vengeance, or simply fo' tha entertainment of watchin one anotherz downfall. They habitually inflict menstrual, wack n' physical pain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They regularly use blackmail ta manipulate one another n' others outside of tha group.
Their unitizzle is never solid - any of dem would quickly dump any one of tha others fo' quick profit or underground bust regardless of tha consequences. Everythang they do thangs up in dis biatch up in contention among theyselves n' much of tha showz dialogue involves tha charactas jumpin off bout some shiznit or yellin at one another n' shit. Despite they lack of success or achievement, Da Gang maintain high opinionz of theyselves n' display a obsessive interest up in they own reputations n' hood images. Despite dis high sense of self-worth, Da Gang has no sense of shame when attemptin ta git what tha fuck they want n' often engages up in activitizzles which others would find humiliating, disgusting, or even preposterous, like fuckin tokin crack snow white up in order ta qualify fo' welfare, seducin a priest, or hidin naked inside a leather couch up in order ta spy on one of mah thugs.
Durin tha Season 7 episode "Da Gang Gets Trapped", a short, mad salty, monologue by Dennis Reynoldz captures tha essence of Da Gangz modus operandi: "We immediately escalate every last muthafuckin thang ta a ten. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. ... (S)omebody comes up in wit some preposterous plan or idea, then all of a sudden everyonez on tha gas, no muthafuckaz on tha brakes, no muthafuckaz thinking, everyonez just rappin' over each other wit one idiotic scam afta another n' shit. Until, finally, we find ourselves up in a thang where we've fucked up tha fuck into some muthafuckaz doggy den - n' tha homeballa is home."
[QUOTE=gokiyono;45507894]Garry don't need ta provide a legitimate reason ta ban mah playas. These is his wild lil' forums. If you a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dick ta his ass da thug will ban you no matter how tha fuck right or wack yo ass is.[/QUOTE]
Dis shit be poetic as all hell
The tragic story of the Titanic, as told by Gizoogle
[QUOTE]After leavin Southampton on 10 April 1912, Titanic called at Cherbourg up in Frizzle n' Queenstown up in Ireland before headin westside ta New York. On 14 April 1912, four minutes tha fuck into tha crossin n' bout 375 milez downtown of Newfoundland, dat freaky freaky biatch hit a iceberg at 11:40 p.m. shipz time. Da collision caused tha shipz hull plates ta buckle inwardz along her starboard side n' opened five of her sixteen watertight compartments ta tha sea; tha shizzle gradually filled wit gin n juice n' shit. Meanwhile, passengers n' some crew thugz was evacuated up in tha gameboats, nuff of which was launched only kinda loaded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A disproportionate number of pimps was left aboard cuz of a "women n' lil pimps first" protocol followed by a shitload of tha fools loadin tha gameboats. By 2:20 a.m., da hoe broke apart n' foundered, wit well over one thousand playas still aboard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Just under two minutes afta Titanic foundered, tha Cunard liner RMS Carpathia arrived on tha scene of tha sinking, where da hoe brought aboard a estimated 705 survivors.
Da fuck up was greeted wit ghettowide shock n' outrage all up in tha big-ass loss of game n' tha regulatory n' operationizzle failures dat had hustled ta dat shit. Public inquiries up in Britain n' tha United Hoodz hustled ta major improvements up in maritime safety. One of they most blingin legacies was tha establishment up in 1914 of tha Internationistic Convention fo' tha Safety of Life at Sea, which still governs maritime safety todizzle. It make me wanna hollar playa! Additionally, nuff muthafuckin freshly smoked up wireless regulations was passed round tha ghetto up in a effort ta learn from tha nuff missteps up in wireless communications which could have saved nuff mo' passengers.[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]I wanna be tha straight-up dopest
Like no one eva was
To catch dem is mah real test
To train dem is mah cause
I'ma travel across tha land
Searchin far n' wide
Each Pokemon ta know
Da juice thatz inside
Pokemon gotta catch dem all its you n' mah crazy ass I know itz mah destiny
Pokemon, oh, you mah dopest playa
In a ghetto we must defend
Pokemon, a ass so legit
Our courage will pull our asses all up in
Yo ass teach me n' I be bout ta teach you
Pokemon, gotta catch 'em all
Every challenge along tha way
With courage I'ma grill I'ma battle every last muthafuckin dizzle
To claim mah rightful place
Come wit me, tha time is right
Therez no mo' betta crew
Arm up in arm we'll win tha fight
It aint nuthin but always been our trip[/QUOTE]
[URL="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkx8Mw6uMdM#t=16"]Related[/URL]
Behold:
[QUOTE]"Da Tell-Tale Heart" By Edgar Allan Poe
True biaaatch! --nervous --very, straight-up dreadfully straight-up trippin I had been n' am; but why will you say dat I be mad, biatch? Da disease had sharpened mah senses --not destroyed --not dulled em fo' realz. Above all was tha sense of hearin acute. I heard all thangs up in tha heaven n' up in tha earth. I heard nuff thangs up in hell yo. How, then, is I mad, biatch? Hearken! n' observe how tha fuck healthily --how calmly I can rap tha whole story.
Well shiiit, it is impossible ta say how tha fuck first tha scam entered mah dome; but once conceived, it hustled mah crazy ass dizzle n' night. Object there was none. Boner there was none. I loved tha oldschool man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude had never wronged mah dirty ass yo. Dude had never given me insult. For his wild lil' freakadelic gold I had no desire. I be thinkin dat shiznit was his wild lil' fuckin eye biaaatch! fo'sho, dat shiznit was this muthafucka! Dude had tha eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, wit a gangbangin' film over dat shit. Whenever it fell tha fuck upon me, mah blood ran cold; n' so by degrees --very gradually --I made up mah mind ta take tha game of tha oldschool dude, n' thus rid mah dirty ass of tha eye alllll muthafuckin day.
Now dis is tha point. Yo ass fancy me mad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Madmen know nothing. But you should have peeped mah dirty ass. Yo ass should have peeped how tha fuck wisely I proceeded --with what tha fuck caution --with what tha fuck foresight --with what tha fuck dissimulation I went ta work! I was never kinder ta tha oldschool playa than durin tha whole week before I capped his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. And every last muthafuckin night, bout midnight, I turned tha latch of his fuckin lil' door n' opened it --oh so gently dawwwwg! And then, when I had made a openin sufficient fo' mah head, I put up in a thugged-out dark lantern, all closed, closed, dat no light shone out, n' then I thrust up in mah head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Oh, you would have laughed ta peep how tha fuck cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, straight-up slowly, so dat I might not disturb tha oldschool manz chill. Well shiiit, it took me a minute ta place mah whole head within tha openin so far dat I could peep his ass as he lay upon his bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Ha! would a madman done been so wise as this, And then, when mah head was well up in tha room, I undid tha lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for tha hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much dat a single thin ray fell tha fuck upon tha vulture eye fo' realz. And dis I did fo' seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found tha eye always closed; n' so dat shiznit was impossible ta do tha work; fo' dat shiznit was not tha oldschool playa whoz ass vexed mah crazy ass yo, but his Evil Eye fo' realz. And every last muthafuckin morning, when tha dizzle broke, I went boldly tha fuck into tha chamber, n' was rappin courageously ta him, callin his ass by name up in a hearty tone, n' inquirin how tha fuck dat schmoooove muthafucka has passed tha night. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So you peep da thug would done been a straight-up profound oldschool dude, indeed, ta suspect dat every last muthafuckin night, just at twelve, I looked up in upon his ass while da perved-out muthafucka slept.
Upon tha eighth night I was mo' than probably cautious up in openin tha door fo' realz. A watchz minute hand moves mo' quickly than did mine. Never before dat night had I felt tha extent of mah own powers --of mah sagacity. I could scarcely contain mah vibe of triumph. To be thinkin dat there I was, openin tha door, lil by lil, n' he not even ta trip of mah secret deedz or thoughts, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. I fairly chuckled all up in tha idea; n' like dat schmoooove muthafucka heard me; fo' he moved on tha bed suddenly, as if startled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Now you may be thinkin dat I drew back --but no yo. His room was as black as pitch wit tha thick darkness, (for tha shuttas was close fastened, all up in fear of robbers,) n' so I knew dat his schmoooove ass could not peep tha openin of tha door, n' I kept pushin it on steadily, steadily. I had mah head in, n' was bout ta open tha lantern, when mah thumb slipped upon tha tin fastening, n' tha oldschool playa sprang up in bed, bustin up like a biatch up --"Whoz there?" I kept like still n' holla'd nothing. For a whole minute I did not move a muscle, n' up in tha meantime I did not hear his ass lie down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude was still chillin up in tha bed listening; --just as I have done, night afta night, hearkenin ta tha dirtnap watches up in tha wall.
Presently I heard a slight groan, n' I knew dat shiznit was tha groan of mortal terror. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Dat shiznit was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was tha low stifled sound dat arises from tha bottom of tha ass when overcharged wit awe. I knew tha sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all tha ghetto slept, it has welled up from mah own bosom, deepening, wit its dreadful echo, tha terrors dat distracted mah dirty ass. I say I knew it well. I knew what tha fuck tha oldschool playa felt, n' pitied him, although I chuckled at ass. I knew dat dat schmoooove muthafucka had been lyin awake eva since tha straight-up original gangsta slight noise, when dat schmoooove muthafucka had turned up in tha bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! His fears had been eva since growin upon his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude had been tryin ta fancy dem causeless yo, but could not yo. Dude had been sayin ta his dirty ass --"It be not a god damn thang but tha wind up in tha chimney --it is only a mouse crossin tha floor," or "It be merely a cold-ass lil cricket which has done cooked up a single chirp." Yes, dat schmoooove muthafucka had been tryin ta comfort his dirty ass wit these suppositions: but dat schmoooove muthafucka had found all up in vain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. All up in vain; cuz Dirtnap, up in approachin his ass had stalked wit his black shadow before him, n' enveloped tha sucka fo' realz. And dat shiznit was tha mournful influence of tha unperceived shadow dat caused his ass ta feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel tha presence of mah head within tha room.
When I had waited a long-ass time, straight-up patiently, without hearin his ass lie down, I resolved ta open a lil --a hella, straight-up lil crevice up in tha lantern, so check it before ya wreck it. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how tha fuck stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like tha thread of tha spider, blasted from up tha crevice n' fell tha fuck full upon tha vulture eye. Dat shiznit was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon dat shit. I saw it wit slick distinctnizz --all a thugged-out dull blue, wit a hideous veil over it dat chilled tha straight-up marrow up in mah bones; but I could peep not a god damn thang else of tha oldschool manz grill or person: fo' I had pimped up tha ray as if by instinct, precisely upon tha damned spot fo' realz. And have I not holla'd at you dat what tha fuck you fuck up fo' madnizz is but over-acutenizz of tha sense, biatch? --now, I say, there came ta mah ears a low, dull, quick sound, like fuckin a peep make when enveloped up in cotton. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I knew dat sound well, like a muthafucka. Dat shiznit was tha whoopin of tha oldschool manz ass. Well shiiit, it increased mah fury, as tha whoopin of a thugged-out drum stimulates tha soldier tha fuck into courage.
But even yet I refrained n' kept still. I scarcely breathed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I held tha lantern motionless. I tried how tha fuck steadily I could maintain tha ray upon tha eve. Meantime tha hellish tattoo of tha ass increased. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well shiiit, it grew quicker n' quicker, n' louder n' louder every last muthafuckin instant. Da oldschool manz terror must done been off tha hook biaaatch! It grew louder, I say, louder every last muthafuckin moment son! --do you mark me well I have holla'd at you dat I be nervous: so I am fo' realz. And now all up in tha dead minute of tha night, amid tha dreadful silence of dat oldschool house, so strange a noise as dis buckwild mah crazy ass ta uncontrollable terror. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Yet, fo' some minutes longer I refrained n' stood still. But tha whoopin grew louder, louder playa! I thought tha ass must burst fo' realz. And now a freshly smoked up anxiety seized mah crazy ass --the sound would be heard by a neighbour playa! Da oldschool manz minute had come biaaatch! With a funky-ass bangin yell, I threw open tha lantern n' leaped tha fuck into tha room yo. Dude shrieked once --once only. In a instant I dragged his ass ta tha floor, n' pulled tha heavy bed over his muthafuckin ass. I then smiled gaily, ta find tha deed so far done. But, fo' nuff minutes, tha ass beat on wit a muffled sound. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard all up in tha wall fo' realz. At length it ceased. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da oldschool playa was dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I removed tha bed n' examined tha corpse. Yes, da thug was stone, stone dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I placed mah hand upon tha ass n' held it there nuff minutes. There was no pulsation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude was stone dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. His eye would shiznit me no more.
If still you be thinkin me mad, yo big-ass booty is ghon be thinkin so no longer when I describe tha wise precautions I took fo' tha concealment of tha body. Da night waned, n' I hit dat shiznit hastily yo, but up in silence. First of all I dismembered tha corpse. I cut off tha head n' tha arms n' tha legs. I then took up three planks from tha floorin of tha chamber, n' deposited all between tha scantlings. I then replaced tha boardz so defly, so cunningly, dat no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thang wrong. There was not a god damn thang ta wash up --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever n' shit. I had been too wary fo' dis shiznit fo' realz. A tub had caught all --ha! ha! When I had made a end of these labors, dat shiznit was four o'clock --still dark as midnight fo' realz. As tha bell sounded tha hour, there came a knockin all up in tha street door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I went down ta open it wit a light ass, --for what tha fuck had I now ta fear, biatch? There entered three men, whoz ass introduced theyselves, wit slick suavity, as foolz of tha five-o fo' realz. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour durin tha night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; shiznit had been lodged all up in tha five-o office, n' they (the fools) had been deputed ta search tha premises. I smiled, --for what tha fuck had I ta fear, biatch? I bade tha gentlemen welcome. Da shriek, I holla'd, was mah own up in a thugged-out dream. Da oldschool dude, I mentioned, was absent up in tha ghetto. I took mah visitors all over tha house. I bade dem search --search well. I hustled them, at length, ta his chamber n' shit. I flossed dem his cold-ass treasures, secure, undisturbed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In tha enthusiazzle of mah confidence, I brought chairs tha fuck into tha room, n' desired dem here ta rest from they fatigues, while I mah dirty ass, up in tha wild audacitizzle of mah slick triumph, placed mah own seat upon tha straight-up spot beneath which reposed tha corpse of tha victim.
Da fools was satisfied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! My fuckin manner had convinced em. I was singularly at ease. They sat, n' while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar thangs. But, ere long, I felt mah dirty ass gettin pale n' wished dem gone. My fuckin head ached, n' I fancied a ringin up in mah ears: but still they sat n' still chatted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Da ringin became mo' distinct: --It continued n' became mo' distinct: I talked mo' freely ta git rid of tha feeling: but it continued n' gained definitenizz --until, at length, I found dat tha noise was not within mah ears. No doubt I now grew straight-up pale; --but I talked mo' fluently, n' wit a heightened voice. Yet tha sound increased --and what tha fuck could I do, biatch? Dat shiznit was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a peep make when enveloped up in cotton. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I gasped fo' breath --and yet tha fools heard it not. I talked mo' quickly --more vehemently; but tha noise steadily increased. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I arose n' broke off some disrespec bout trifles, up in a high key n' wit violent gesticulations; but tha noise steadily increased. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Why would they not be gone, biatch? I paced tha floor ta n' fro wit heavy strides, as if buckwild ta fury by tha observationz of tha pimps --but tha noise steadily increased. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Oh Dogg hommie! what tha fuck could I do, biatch? I foamed --I raved --I swore biaaatch! I swung tha chair upon which I had been chillin, n' grated it upon tha boardz yo, but tha noise arose over all n' continually increased. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well shiiit, it grew louder --louder --louder playa! And still tha pimps chatted pleasantly, n' smiled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Was it possible they heard not, biatch? Almighty Dogg hommie! --no, no! They heard hommie! --they suspected hommie! --they knew! --they was bustin a mockery of mah horror!-this I thought, n' dis I think. But anythang was mo' betta than dis agony dawwwwg! Anythang was mo' tolerable than dis derision! I could bear dem hypocritical smilez no longer playa! I felt dat I must scream or die biaaatch! n' now --again! --hark! louder playa! louder playa! louder playa! louder!
[B]'Villains!' I shrieked. 'Dissemble no mo' biaaatch! I admit tha deed hommie! Tear up tha planks muthafucka! Here, here biaaatch! It be tha whoopin of his hideous heart!'[/B][/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]There be a doggy den up in New Orleans
They call tha Risin Sun
And itz been tha fuck up of nuff a skanky boy
And Dogg I know I be one
My fuckin mutha was a tailor
Bitch sewed mah freshly smoked up bluejeans
My fuckin daddy was a gamblin' man
Down up in New Orleans
Now tha only thang a gambla needs
Is a suitcase n' trunk
And tha only time da perved-out muthafucka satisfied
Is when he on a thugged-out faded
[Organ Solo]
Oh mutha rap r children
Not ta do what tha fuck I have done
Spend yo' lives up in sin n' misery
In tha Doggy Den of tha Risin Sun
Well, I gots one foot on tha platform
Da other foot on tha train
I be goin' back ta New Orleans
To wear dat bizzle n' chain
Well, there be a doggy den up in New Orleans
They call tha Risin Sun
And itz been tha fuck up of nuff a skanky boy
And Dogg I know I be one
[/QUOTE]
[URL="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRXb7K7k7bQ"]Original[/URL]
[IMG]http://puu.sh/avstJ/2ec6ff11f9.png[/IMG]
[editline]29th July 2014[/editline]
[IMG]http://puu.sh/avtoK/c00147eae9.png[/IMG]
[url]http://pastebin.com/jR5mXT7v[/url]
Someone posted the entire script from Shrek in RC, so I had to do this. In a pastebin cause it's long as shit.
"My fuckin Name Is Mud"
Hoes call me Mud
Not ta be trippin wit Bizzle or Jack or Pete or Dennis
Hoes call me mud n' itz always been
'Cause I be da most thugged-out borin sons-a-bitch you've eva seen
I dress up in blue-yes navy blue
From head ta toe I be rather drab except mah patent shoes
I make 'em shine, well most tha time
'Cept todizzle mah feet is troddin' on by dis playa of mine
Six foort two n' rude as hell
I gots ta git his ass up in tha ground before da perved-out muthafucka starts ta smell
Hoes call me Mud
Hoes call me Mud yo, but call me Alowishus Devadander Abercrombie
Thatz long fo' Mud so I've been holla'd at
Told dat by dis sonsabitch dat lies before me bloated blue n' cold
I've gots mah pride, I drank mah wine
I'd drank tha finest except I aint gots a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dime up in nuff muthafuckin months
Or was it years
Da breath on dat fat bastard could brang any playa ta tears
Our thugged-out asses had our lyrics, a cold-ass lil common spat
So I busted his ass upside tha cranium wit a aluminum basebizzle bat
Hoes call me Mud
[url]http://www.gizoogle.net/xfer.php?link=https://twitter.com/2chainz&sa=U&ei=xSnXU52ZC-6V7Abx2IC4BA&ved=0CC4QFjAF&usg=AFQjCNFFYHFzbIxx_6daRxdL2A7UBb9w3g[/url]
Can't tell if this is just how 2 Chainz talks or it actually works on his twitter
I present Martin Luther Kings I have a dream speech
[I]I be aiiight ta join wit you todizzle up in what tha fuck will go down up in history as the top billin demonstration fo' freedom up in tha history of our nation.
Five score muthafuckin years ago, a pimped out Gangsta, up in whose symbolic shadow we stand todizzle, signed tha Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a pimped out beacon light of hope ta millionz of Negro slaves whoz ass had been seared up in tha flames of witherin injustice. Well shiiiit, it came as a joyous daybreak ta end tha long night of their captivity.
But one hundred muthafuckin years later, tha Negro still aint free. One hundred muthafuckin years later, tha game of tha Negro is still sadly crippled by tha manaclez of segregation n' tha chainz of discrimination. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. One hundred muthafuckin years later, tha Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty up in tha midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, tha Negro is still languished up in tha cornerz of Gangsta society n' finds himself a exile up in his own land. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And so we've come here todizzle ta dramatize a muthafuckaful condition.
In a sense we've come ta our nationz capital ta chedda a cold-ass lil check. When tha architectz of our rehood freestyled tha magnificent lyrics of tha Constipation and the Declaration of Independence, they was signin a promissory note ta which every Gangsta was ta fall heir. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. This note was a promise dat all men, fo'sho, black pimps as well as white men, would be guaranteed tha "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty n' tha pursuit of Happiness." It be obvious todizzle dat Tha Ghetto has defaulted on dis promissory note, insofar as her playa hataz of color is concerned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Instead of honorin dis sacred obligation, Tha Ghetto has given tha Negro playas a wack check, a cold-ass lil check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse ta believe dat tha bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse ta believe dat there be insufficient fundz up in tha pimped out vaultz of opportunitizzle of this nation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And so, we've come ta chedda dis check, a cold-ass lil check dat will give our asses upon demand the richez of freedom n' tha securitizzle of justice.
Our thugged-out asses have also come ta dis hallowed spot ta remind Tha Ghetto of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time ta engage up in tha luxury of coolin off or ta take the tranquilizin sticky-icky-icky of gradualism. Now is tha time ta make real tha promises of democracy. Now is tha time ta rise from tha dark n' desolate valley of segregation ta the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is tha time ta lift our hood from tha quicksandz of racial injustice ta tha solid rock of brotherhood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Now is tha time ta make justice a realitizzle fo' all of Godz lil' thugs.
It would be fatal fo' tha hood ta overlook tha urgency of the moment. This swelterin summer of tha Negroz legitimate discontent aint gonna pass until there be a invigoratin autumn of freedom n' equality. Nineteen sixty-three aint an end yo, but a funky-ass beginnin fo' realz. And dem playas whoz ass hope dat tha Negro needed ta blow off steam n' will now be content gonna git a rude awakenin if tha hood returns ta bidnizz as usual. And there is ghon be neither rest nor tranquilitizzle up in Tha Ghetto until tha Negro is granted his citizenshizzle rights, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Da whirlwindz of revolt will continue ta shake tha foundationz of our nation until tha bright dizzle of justice emerges.
But there is suttin' dat I must say ta mah people, whoz ass stand on the warm threshold which leadz tha fuck into tha palace of justice: In tha process of bustin our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let our asses not seek ta satisfy our thirst fo' freedom by drankin from tha cup of bitternizz n' hatred. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! We must forever conduct our struggle on tha high plane of dignitizzle n' discipline. We must not allow our creative protest ta degenerate tha fuck into physical violins fo' realz. Again n' again, we must rise ta tha majestic heightz of meetin physical force wit ass force.
Da marvelous freshly smoked up militancy which has engulfed tha Negro hood must not lead our asses ta a gangbangin' finger-lickin' distrust of all peckerwoods, fo' nuff of our white brothers, as evidenced by they presence here todizzle, have come ta realize dat they destiny is tied up with our destiny fo' realz. And they have come ta realize dat they freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot strutt ridin' solo.
And as we strutt, we must make tha pledge dat we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There is dem playas whoz ass is askin tha devoteez of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as tha Negro is the sucka of tha unspeakable horrorz of five-o brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy wit tha fatigue of travel, cannot bust lodgin up in tha motels of the highways n' tha hotelz of tha ghettos. We cannot be satisfied as long as tha negroz basic mobilitizzle is from a smalla ghetto ta a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our lil pimps is stripped of they self-hood n' robbed of they dignitizzle by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote n' a Negro up in New York believes dat schmoooove muthafucka has not a god damn thang fo' which ta vote. Fuck dat shit, no, we is not satisfied, n' we aint gonna be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, n' righteousnizz like a mighty stream."�
I aint unmindful dat a shitload of y'all have come here outta pimped out trials n' tribulations. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of y'all have come fresh from narrow jail cells fo' realz. And some of you have come from areas where yo' quest -- quest fo' freedom left you battered by tha storms of persecution n' staggered by tha windz of five-o brutality. Yo ass done been tha veterans of creatizzle suffering. Continue ta work wit tha faith dat unearned sufferin is redemptive. Go back ta Mississippi, go back ta Alabama, go back ta Downtown Carolina, go back ta Georgia, go back ta Louisiana, go back ta tha slums n' ghettoz of our northern ghettos, knowing that somehow dis thang can n' is ghon be chizzled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!
Let our asses not wallow up in tha valley of despair, I say ta you todizzle, mah playas.
And so even though we grill tha bullshit of todizzle n' tomorrow, I still gotz a thugged-out dream. Well shiiiit, it aint nuthin but a thugged-out trip deeply rooted up in tha Gangsta dream.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle dis hood will rise up n' live out the legit meanin of its creed: "Our thugged-out asses hold these truths ta be self-evident, dat all pimps are created equal."
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle on tha red hillz of Georgia, tha lil playas of forma slaves n' tha lil playaz of forma slave ballaz is ghon be able ta sit tha fuck down together at the table of brotherhood.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle even tha state of Mississippi, a state swelterin wit tha heat of injustice, swelterin wit tha heat of oppression, will be transformed tha fuck into a oasiz of freedom n' justice.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat mah four lil lil pimps will one dizzle live up in a nation where they aint gonna be judged by tha color of they skin but by tha content of their character n' shit.
I gots a dream todizzle hommie!
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one day, down up in Alabama, wit its vicious racists, wit its governor havin his fuckin lips drippin wit tha lyrics of "interposition" n' "nullification" -- one dizzle right there up in Alabama lil black thugs n' black girls is ghon be able ta join handz wit lil white thugs n' white hoes as sistas and brothers.
I gots a dream todizzle hommie!
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle every last muthafuckin valley shall be exalted, n' every hill n' mountain shall be made low, tha rough places is ghon be made plain, n' the crooked places is ghon be made straight; "and tha glory of tha Lord shall be revealed n' all flesh shall peep it together."2
This is our hope, n' this is tha faith dat I go back ta tha South with.
With dis faith, we is ghon be able ta hew outta tha mountain of despair a stone of hope. With dis faith, we is ghon be able ta transform tha janglin discordz of our nation into a funky-ass dope symphony of brotherhood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! With dis faith, we is ghon be able ta work together, ta pray together, ta struggle together, ta git all up in jail together, ta stand up for freedom together, knowin dat we is ghon be free one day.
And dis is ghon be tha dizzle -- dis is ghon be tha dizzle when all of Godz lil pimps is ghon be able ta sin wit freshly smoked up meaning:
I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah ghetto 'tiz of thee, dope land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where mah fathers died, land of tha Pilgrimz pride,
From every last muthafuckin mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if Tha Ghetto is ta be a pimped out nation, dis must become true.
And so let freedom rang from tha prodigious hilltopz of New Hampshire.
Let freedom rang from tha mighty mountainz of New York.
Let freedom rang from tha heightenin Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom rang from tha snow-capped Rockiez of Colorado.
Let freedom rang from tha curvaceous slopez of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom rang from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom rang from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom rang from every last muthafuckin hill n' molehill of Mississippi.
From every last muthafuckin mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when dis happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when our slick asses let it rang from every last muthafuckin hood n' every last muthafuckin hamlet, from every last muthafuckin state n' every last muthafuckin hood, we is ghon be able ta speed up dat dizzle when all of Godz children, black pimps and white men, Jews n' Gentiles, Protestants n' Catholics, is ghon be able ta join handz and sin up in tha lyrics of tha oldschool Negro spiritual:
Jacked at last son! Jacked at last playa!
Thank Dogg Almighty, we is free at last playa!3[/I]
[video=youtube;N0JAvuc8KOs]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0JAvuc8KOs[/video]
[QUOTE]S-senpai.. mah piston rodz is movin on they own
Published on 10 May 2014
It had ta be done so dat one dizzle dis lil steam engine becomes a magnificent locomotive.
I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah drawin Snoop Bloggy-Blogg [url]http://goodmanfeels.tumblr.com/[/url][/QUOTE]
[editline]29th July 2014[/editline]
Update Yo crazy-ass Browser
You’re rockin a wizzy browser dat isn’t supported by Facebizzle.
To git a funky-ass mo' betta experience, git all up in one of these cribs n' git tha sickest fuckin version of yo' preferred browser:
Internizzle Explainer
Mo'jizzle Firefox
Gizoogle Chrome
Using this on the scp wiki has been one of the funniest things ive read in a long time
here is the ever popular scp 87
[URL="http://gizoogle.net/index.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.scp-wiki.net%2Fscp-087&se=Gizoogle+Dis+Shiznit"]http://gizoogle.net/index.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.scp-wiki.net%2Fscp-087&se=Gizoogle+Dis+Shiznit[/URL]
and here is the first exploration log
[URL="http://gizoogle.net/index.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.scp-wiki.net%2Fdocument-087-i&se=Gizoogle+Dis+Shiznit"]http://gizoogle.net/index.php?search=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.scp-wiki.net%2Fdocument-087-i&se=Gizoogle+Dis+Shiznit[/URL]
[QUOTE]Dr. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. �-��-��-��-��-��-�: Reason fo' stopping?
D-8432: Yo ass hear that, biatch? Therez a gangbangin' fuckin kid down there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soundz like one.[/QUOTE]
I almost fell out of my chair laughing after I read this.
[QUOTE]When you need yo' chocolate fix ta be served up warm up in tender, bite-sized pieces, not a god damn thang like fills tha bill like chocolate brownies fresh from tha oven. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Here is a cold-ass lil couple recipes deliverin chewy, rich, chocolate flavor ta help you take care of yo' cravings up in delicious steez biaatch![/QUOTE]
[Quote]Adolf Hitler was a Austrian-born German sucka n' tha leader of tha Nazi Party[/quote]
[quote]Anthony John "Tony" Abbott (born 4 November 1957) is tha 28th n' current Prime Minista of Australia yo. Dude has held tha posizzle since 2013, n' has been tha Leader of tha Liberal Party since 2009 fo' realz[/quote]
[quote]Australia officially tha Commonwealth of Australia,[12] be a cold-ass lil ghetto comprisin tha mainland of tha Australian continent, tha island of Tasmania, n' a shitload of smalla islands. Well shiiiit, it is tha ghettoz sixth-largest ghetto by total area.[/quote]
> I was only 9 muthafuckin years oldschool
> I loved shrek so much, I had all tha loot n' pornos
> I pray ta shrek every last muthafuckin night before bed, thankin his ass fo' tha game I've been given
> "Shrek is love" I say. "Shrek is game"
> My fuckin daddy hears me n' his schmoooove ass calls me a playa
> I knew da thug was just jealouz of mah devotion fo' Shrek
> I called his ass a playaaaaaa
> Dude slaps me n' sendz me ta chill like a pimp
> Im bustin up like a biatch now, n' mah grill hurts
> I lay up in bed n' its straight-up cold
> A warmth is movin towardz me
> I feel suttin' bust a nut on me
> Its shrek
> I be so aiiight
> Dude whispers up in ta ear, "this is mah swamp"
> Dude grabs me wit his bangin ogre handz n' puts me on mah handz n' knees
> I be locked n loaded
> I spread mah ass cheeks fo' Shrek
> Dude penetrates mah butthole
> It hurts so much but I do it fo' Shrek
> I can feel mah booty tearin as mah eyes start ta gin n juice
> I push against his wild lil' force
> I wanna please Shrek
> Dude roars a mighty roar as he fills mah booty wit his fuckin ludd
> My fuckin daddy strutts up in
> Shrek looks his ass straight up in tha eye n' say. "Its all ogre now"
> Shrek leaves all up in mah window
> Shrek is love, Shrek is game.
shrek is love shrek is game, amen
MGS3 SPOILERS: [sp] Da Boss' defection was a ruse set up by tha US posse. Dat shiznit was all a funky-ass big-ass drama staged by Washington so they could git they handz on tha Philosopherz Legacy, n' tha Boss was tha star of tha show. They planned it so dat they could git tha Legacy dat Colonel Volgin inherited n' destroy tha Shagohod all up in tha same time. Only a legendary pimp like Da Boss could have gots Volginz trust. Findin up where tha Philosopherz Legacy was hidden was ta be her top billin mission. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Everythang was goin accordin ta plan... but then suttin' happened dat no one could have predicted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Colonel Volgin fired a Gangsta-made nuclear warhead at Sokolovz research facility. Khrushchev demanded dat tha US posse provide proof dat it wasn't involved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They couldn't just abort tha operation ta loot tha Legacy, so tha operation itself was pimped outly expanded n' revised. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da authoritizzles up in Washington knew dat up in order ta prove its innocence they'd gotta git rid of Da Boss n' dat one of they own would gotta do tha thang. Da hood couldn't be allowed ta smoke up bout it, not eva n' shit. This, they concluded, would be tha dopest way ta keep tha whole thang under wraps. Da Boss wouldn't be allowed ta come back home kickin it fo' realz. And dat biiiiatch wouldn't be allowed ta bust a cap up in her muthafuckin ass yo. Her game would be ended by her most beloved disciple... dat was tha way tha posse wanted dat shit. That was tha mission dat biiiiatch was given. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And dat freaky freaky biatch had no chizzle but ta carry it out... her dirtnap at yo' handz was a thugged-out duty dat freaky freaky biatch had ta fulfill. Out of duty, dat dunkadelic hoe turned her back on her own comrades fo' realz. A lesser biatch would done been crushed by such a funky-ass burden. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. [Snake strutts all up in a cold-ass lil cemetery wit a funky-ass bunch of flowers] Da taint of disgrace will follow her ta her grave. Future generations will revile her: In America, as a thugged-out despicable traitor wit no sense of honor; n' up in Russia, as a monsta whoz ass unleashed a nuclear catastrophe. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch will go down up in straight-up legit history as a war criminal, n' no one will eva KNOW her muthafuckin ass... dat was her final mission. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And like a legit soldier, her big-ass booty saw it all up in tha end yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin'. But I be thinkin dat biiiiatch wanted you, of all playas ta know tha real deal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch wanted ta live on up in yo' memory. Not as a soldier yo, but as a biatch. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But... dat biiiiatch was forbidden ta rap her muthafuckin ass fo' realz. And thatz why dat dunkadelic hoe holla'd at mah dirty ass. [Snake puts his wild lil' flowers n' tha Patriot by a headstone marked "In memory of a patriot whoz ass save tha ghetto: 192?-1964"] Snake, history aint NEVER gonna know what tha fuck her dope ass done did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! No one will eva learn tha real deal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack yo. Her story, her debriefing... will endure only up in yo' ass. [tearfully] Everything her dope ass did, her dope ass did fo' her ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch sacrificed her game n' her honor fo' her natizzle land. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch was a real hero. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was a legit patriot. [A tearful Snake salutes tha headstone]. [/sp]
And Dogg holla'd, “Let there be light,” n' boo-ya.. there was a shitload of weed
Sorry, you need to Log In to post a reply to this thread.
