Messages

my nigga! this shit is DOPE! how you gonna leave thes cats hangin' fo so long? beest get crackin' wit' dat next chapter, yo!

damn! it look like East Coast put ol' boy in his place, propa-like!

cain't nobody take no shit from some busta wearin' a damn shriner hat, fo' sho'!

Trollax? aww hell no! that nigga cain't possibly be a big enuff busta to show his cracka azz 'round these parts ag'in! Tell that punk-azz fool to go chew some mo' dem eucalyptus leaves, stop harassin' us po' disco'dians.

damn, dawg...you get that shit from an L. Ron Hubbard book or somthin'? that sounds like these cats I know in Anaheim, always takin' that acid all tha time, start ramblin' this and that, but when you lissen to what they's goin' on 'bout, it always end up bein' 2 sides of tha same coin anyway...you wanna bust some pop psychology out on these crackers, you gots to remember that circles gon' get you nowhere. Some cats think cirularly, some cats think in linearistic termz, mos' tha hoods on this board pro'lly think in what you could call "crazy-straw" termz.

anyway, y'all honkiez spend too much time askin' yo'se'f questions and not enough time pimpin' whores and slammin' cadillac doors. ain't worth questionin' yo' life if it keeps y'all from livin' yo' life, dig?

yo, ain't tha noodledawg a homegirl?

homegirl, you know my boy ain't gettin' played like that. That nigga be High COmmie whatever til' tha day he die. Which gon' be sooner than he like, he don' keep his fool mouth shut when he ought to.

y'all talkin' some bullshit now. E'ybody know niggaz like us only go out one way. We ALL gon' get took out by tha man. That peckerwood got fools up on rooftops e'ywhere, dig?

you NEED to read these.

http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c108:H.R.163:

http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c108:S.89:

neither bill has passed through both the House and the Senate yet, but that may have more to do with timing and semantics than any real opposition to the idea. And neither has been killed off when there have been opportunities to do so.

man, them niggaz best not even think 'bout draftin my azz. They gots to know I only killz honkies.

Y'all bustaz don' know sheeeyit. I used to cook rocks up fo' Eazy, befo' I moved up to pickin' out groupiez fo' 'Pac. Then I moved to tha City fo' a while, worked wit Drrty McGurrrty, helpin' hiz crazy azz stay out' the way of tha Po. cain't get no mo' work afta that cuz they say e'ybody I work fo' keep dyin'...see, what I'm sayin' is, y'all think you got brags cuz y'all try to interface wit' legendz of tha music world...I create tha legendz, so y'alll got LONG way to go to catch up wit' ME.

ay-yo, kato! I don' know 'bout yo' whitebread, "working" class neighbo'hood, but 'round these parts, whne fools come jawing that slick-ass college-boy talk, they usually just get shot in they face fo' tha trouble...then they get robbed, and they girlie gets taken to tha crack house and passed aroun' to all tha hardcore freakz. so, what I'm tryin' to say to you is, feel free to come to tha projectz anytime for a more in-depth discussion of yo' views and opinions. and bring ya' girlie wit' you, dawg, that azz is bangin'.

dizzamn. y'all gots some crazy-azz stories, yo! but peep this shit: one time, me and my boy was rollin' on these trick-ass bikes we won in a dice game from some vatos, we was downtown, drinkin' some OE wit' my boy Stucco at his studio, and we started rollin' back towards my boy's crib down in Torrance, and them crazy-ass 'Cans we won the bikes from rolled by looking to jack our loot an' shit, so my boy makes like he's pullin' out, and one'dem hoodz come right back with a nina shootin' from tha backseat. so I'se wise to this shit, right, cuz it ain't nothin' but daily life in these parts, so I bust down a alley and drop tha bike and climb a fire escape up to tha roof of this old factory, right? and I see my boy, he runnin' fo' his life, but he done ran down into the LA river, whic if y'all don't know, ain't no river but a channel of green slimy shit that run through a concrete riverbed all through downtown LA, so they still chasin' his azz yellin' how they gon' pop him when they get him, so he decide the only way he gon' lose 'em is by goin' where thay ain't no chance of bein' followed. so his azz jump right into that nasty-azz river, but not befo' he stop to toss his tommy jacket and his Timbas over to tha otha side. sho' nuff, them Vatos ain't want nothin' to do wit' dat river water, but they just sat and waited for a hour fo' him ot come get his threadz back, but he musta peeped 'em, cuz they just sat there waiting. I stayed up on the roof and twisted me a tree and watch the whole thing, yo. seen him next day, he ask me to keep that shit on tha DL, but you know I cain't keep shit that good to myse'f, so now e'ybody know, and e'ybody call his azz "Catfish" from then on.

y'all put oil in yo' pasta water, just means y'allz some busta-ass muhfuhs that probably live in tha suburbz in some condos or some shit...reel gangstas don't gots to worry 'bout that shit cuz they cain't 'ford nothin' more than some ramen noodles anyway...maybe a jumbo jack once in a while, fo' a treat. dig.

Okay mister Gangster, if you can not even afford oil for pasta, then how are you able to access a computer? I think you need to go solicit your "mad skillz" somewhere else. Because personally this hurts my brain more than Horab's writing, and it is also unable to give me a high, so I just end up with a head ache which wasn't caused by a long night partying.

Dig?

dig this: I cain't affo'd no oil fo' pasta cuz my momz gots 6 otha mouthz to feed. I gots a 'puta to use cuz I go to college. UC Irvine, busta. Full schola'ship too, case you waz wond'rin. Jus' cuz I think it's fun to type like I talk, don' mean I ain't got a brain up in my dome. An' I'm sorry if it makes y'all uncomfortable fo' a brotha to show up in this bitch talkin' like a brotha. I'se pretty sho' y'allz goddess don' mind at'all tho'. She pro'lly enjoy watchin' y'all squirm. Keep yo' mind on tha message and y'all be straight wit' it. Let y'sef lose sight of it, and y'all gone be just as gray as gray can be. See? I done read y'alls books and shit. Eris ain't just fo' white kidz from tha suburbz, y'know.

y'all put oil in yo' pasta water, just means y'allz some busta-ass muhfuhs that probably live in tha suburbz in some condos or some shit...reel gangstas don't gots to worry 'bout that shit cuz they cain't 'ford nothin' more than some ramen noodles anyway...maybe a jumbo jack once in a while, fo' a treat. dig.