Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy, But Scaring White Motherfuckers Is
Dear NiggaKnow,
Several nights ago an urge to bring some romance and long missed warm sentiments overcame me. I reached out to a dear longtime friend of mine, whom h
as grown with me both spiritually and romantically. After thanking her for the ride, I solicited a prostitute with a bangin’ ass. The warm streetlight behind Dunkin Doughnuts illuminated my fingers as I used them to caress the open sore on her leg, while she sucked me off with her soft blistered lips. Suddenly I didn’t feel the love I expected, I started feeling guilty about the price we agreed upon, so I got up and ran.
Her pimp caught a glimpse of my white ass running down the block, and jumped into his 79′ Cadillac. Afraid of catching a beat down I ran even faster. I cut through some yards and lost him. When I got home I realized my wallet had fallen out behind double d’s. I am now living my life in fear, should I go to the cops? Should I move? I’m afraid I may get a cap popped into my ass. Please help!
Pencil Dick
Dear scared ass whitey,
I don’t know where the fuck you found a damn time machine at and went back to them days of when niggas was straight beastin on bitches in 79′ Lacs, but I need to get my ass one of them time joints like Diddy needs new careers to fuck over. Speaking of that thieving nigga, if I had some of that time bending shit I’d use it to get my money back on my investments in Black Rob and Shyne’s second albums and put all that paper into some .com jumpoff, like Google or Gaggle or whatever the fuck you white motherfuckers use to keep money from a nigga’s pockets.
Any damn way, that “pimp” (which really degrades the pussy pusher industry by using such an archiac term) who apparently is Shaft personified only gives a fuck about two things: his paper, and which assault and battery techniques he can utilize to raise his capital gaines on a bitch. Basically if your ass didn’t pay, that nigga raised the fuck up out of his 79′ joint, gorilla punched ol’ girl in the throat, and then found out that you dined and dashed. Now your future is all fucked up like them Danity Kane bitches. Seriously nigga, FUCK DIDDY.
You don’t have the ability or balls to raise up on this nigga, and ain’t no peace offering gon’ happen with a nigga that wears a damn orange and green cape that says “Daddy Dollaz” on it and has a picture of a hammer hitting a bitch in the head. So we’re going to have to stick to your two choices of the motherfucking police and moving.
Off the top, I’d have my blackness revoked if I told your ass to go down to the station and start blasting that story to them doughnut vacuums. Besides, going to the police might get your wallet back, but it wont prevent you from getting a fist wrapped in a four-finger gold ring with the word “Oppression” on it repeatedly smashed into your sinus cavity and a pair of size 14 red and purple gators stomping your pelvic bone flat. So fuck all that going to the police bullshit.
I guess moving might be the right move for you. Afterall, you white motherfuckers know all about leaving your problems behind and setting up shop somwhere else. Without the white man’s natural instincts to run and hide when problems arise you motherfuckers probably would have never “found” America in the first place. So do you nigga- run and hide, because at least your constant fear of being found wont be half as bad as getting a pimp cup surgically removed from your colon. Just be sure to check that peep hole when there’s a knock at the door on moving day.
Whahahahahah!!!!
You rule!!!
I want to see the Don magic Jaun fuck someone up.