Wednesday, April 16, 2003

yeah that’s right Fuck e-40. I said it.

with a capital eff.

But captain caveman yo, he was down like downtown Julie brown and her step sister bev. It was all geee whiz. I remember (let me peer in my crystal ball, yeah guy?) how the moon would change that shaggy wannabe to captain caveman, and then – oh shit I’m thinking that guy that would turn into a wolf – that had like the baby wolfboy too? Yeah captain caveman was always a big hairy ball with a cave stick.

How could I be so stupid? To confuse two such pinnacles of modern era histrionics and multiflatformed freeflowing fuselage of goodwill and ambassordship to all of cartoon land, no don’t confuse that gentelemen, of that there can be no WaVeRiNg or lack of perspiration and perseverance in any way shape form or syllable, or else captain kirk will be promptly executed.

Fukn e-40, what a little BITCH.

Yeah I said it, you got beef e?

Bring it on to Saskatchewan punk bitch.

Ah but shit, rappers flake on shit all the time, even hussie la hors ie gussie lamours in airport ass ghetto bird FUCK E-40.

So where was I? Anywhizay. That’s the theme of the day.

Oh yeah I got to cruise around in my BENZO just now, so yall can scratch these narts. Scratch em I said you goatless bastards. Scratch your heart out at that scratching poll of life and take yerself a scratch, a nice long scratch, scratch that goddamm fuddler like its noontime on a thursdsaa (already used the funny day of the week reference there, papa-san), so anyway where was I?

Where’s the beef? That fukn lady got so much publicity and fukn used as PrOmOtIoN by one of the political parties, one of the major ones, I think it was the republicans, the elephants, the war-mongers or could it have been those tree-hugging pork bellying democratic Clinton ass womanizing stepchild wannabe groo haircut having donkey hustler.

Cube, shot gun to the down, bend a corner wit me, shotgun to the dome.

When shit get corn? What the fuck cube, whut the fuck is that supposed to mean? Just cuz I’m white you think I’m growin corn up in this motherfucker, ya know, fuck this, this ain’t ticket to rhyme, this is a scene to a crime, ride to the sto’, and duck n cover like the nuclear preparation in the 70’s would say, cuz the block is HOT.

Fukn PEACE out @!#%& mothafucka!