Posted 4:47 PM by Alfred

Dear e-40. am I ready to forgive you? I don’t know.

Hmmm, start off an album dissing rasheed Wallace? Hmmm. I, I, I don’t know e.

Lemme bask in the rhythms.

Damn you e-40 and your crafty rhymes! Actually, shit, FUCK, I don’t know how to handle this situation. I’m, shit, I’m, hurting. It’s a, shit, FUCK. damn you e-40, I mean, sickwidit.

Shit, I still hate you though, even in the back of my mind. And you can’t escape that with 800 thousand astro-medallions.

So don’t even try.

I might hate Donald sterling more than I hate you now. But, shit, I mean, he’s trying though, but, damn, he’s brought me much more heartache than you have, but, shit, not all just kicking your ass over the process of one entire night like being the worst piece of shit ever like you did. You bastardized son of a goatless mother.

But… you can rap. And well. And that just, like, propogates shit out the gate. It’s been a long time e. I mean, every time I even heard you rap for even like a second, even on like old skool random ass crapsterpieces, it’s like, I avoided that shit like the draculinian plague of 1732 in Prague. It was a nasty one, one of the ones that is for some odd determination and lack of reason not nearly as famous as it should be. Like me. Maybe that’s why I relate to it so damn well. I mean, like 85 times the people died in that one than whut died in that pussy ass London one. And shit, you talking bout jack the ripper. Don’t forget svenisky the blood-letter of 1693. shit, look that shit up, and read up on yer fucking history for five minutes before you try to step in here and like, yeah, fuck it, propogate on shit, I’ll say it again. It’s an important word.

Ah, E you sneaky, sneaky, unbelievable sneaky bastard sword of an unbrandished brigand, to bring in too-short on just the 2nd song. It’s like, you almost trick us into knowing that this is gonna suck when you start off THE ALBUM by dissing rasheed Wallace, in fact, letting the man talk on your record, first thing, him dissin you, you are the stupidest goatless bastardized ass crapsterpiece to ever walk the light of day without a light sabre. Ok? Just accept it. and by the way, my name is P. Funk Malone, in case you were wondering.

And don’t even step, I know AMG created p-funk. Beyatch.

By the way, it’s ok, please don’t be offended, and fuck you anyway if you are. You should know, you were there, it was Honolulu, over by the airport. Oh yeah, I think you know, I think you’ve read this 85 times over the years and every time you do a little tear comes to your eye, and you think, damn, dawg, the kids, the fuckin kids, I gotta do better for them and theirs and the island nation. You know it, so represent like a true oaktown plizayah.

Ah, fuck you though. Sorry. But enjoying the music, good werk. You percolatin with sam snead and the crackalacka mack jackers. Whuuuut? No you’re not. Can’t end this with the proper line walking Escobar? That word came out of nowhere. This is prolly the most nonsensical shit on this side of the east side.

There is a really dope tupac guest shot on there too. Song 4. yup. So now if you do the research you’ll know exactly how long it took me to write this post. Nay, design it, as the trolls from east johannessburg already brought over the secret eggs filled with the imagery contained herein and therein and in jackies heroin chic quiche bag full of, shit, I don’t know. Substitute in whatever in that sentence whut you think is the most playified thing on the face of the planet or even on Pluto’s 5th moon.

Aloha.

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