Tuesday, October 26, 2004

Yo yo. I have to do a dillio today. I’m listening to some crunk ass shit that I din’t pay furr. It was acquired but not five finger stylee, promise. So, uh, it’s all crunked up. I mean, it’s like, shit, it’s like, they be yelling and getting crunk! They’re getting serially crunked up. That’s what’s so especially crunkish abooot it.

The funny thing about t-bone johanssen is that he is my brother from another mother. So, uh, never apologize for not blogging withstanding, sorry. Wait, no I’m not. Gotta let that shit age. It’s like a fine wine, you know, like boone’s or some shit like that, maybe it’s like a fine bottle of orange flavored cisco.

And then, uh, the ball hit the ceiling? The new kool keith, aka diesel truckers, finally showed in my mailbox, and it is off the chain, off the chain meaning good. Meaning, uh, highly intellectually stimulating but at the same time making you shake your ass in a posterior induced rambling direction.

I’m getting so irra’s about this stereo situation which I will not describe to you cuz actual info is so 1982. used to have an 82 ladatt van halen shirt. Hmmm, did you know there’s a remix of that slow motion song with wyclef on it? Ok. Now the ball, if it was like one millimeter or one mile from the ceiling has just seriously hit it at 8 billion miles an hour.

Souljah slim RIP. I mean, eh, I’ve discussed it before. How you gonna die and THEN get a hit record. So typical. I mean, maybe I should fake my own death, then my shit would be HOT, like burning up the streets, homeless people would be sneaking into the library to download that shit, like, hooking up parralelogram pookas to bypass internal security, the whole nine yards.