Say I won’t roast your girl again!

12 Mar

If you don't want me roasting your girl, keep her in her cage B.

It’s your boy John John back up in the building, you know what it is! Let me skip to the jump G, I got some serious beef with your girl again! Yesterday I was posting up at the South Side Summer Fish Fry trying to get my fish on, when I realized it was as hot as a mug. I figured I would walk the four blocks home, get my whip, drive back, and park it by the entrance. That way I could bump tunes, pump the AC, and put the hurt on some battered sea creatures. Only problem was, I could only see one parking spot, and I knew somebody was finna scoop that spot while I was gone. Luckily, there was a construction site nearby that had orange cones like they was popular. Instant solution son. I picked up a fatty orange cone and put that junk down right in the middle of the spot I needed. Whap! Reserved bitches. I made that spot VIP, and ain’t none of ya’ll on the list. Damn son, I took my time walking home too, no need to hurry. So, like 20 minutes later I come driving back in my 93 Chrysler. (P.S. Don’t sleep on the 93 Concord, it’s a beast!) When I rolled up I didn’t see my spot anymore! What’s worse, I see my cone all beat up on the side of the road like Rhianna. How you gonna straight run over a cone like it don’t mean something? I ain’t no snitch, but I bet that shits illegal, just straight ignoring cones, damn! Then I see your girl hop out of a truck, parked in my spot, with some ill-fitting jeans on talking bout “what you lookin at wangster, you don’t own this spot!” I was so mad I couldn’t think straight to get at her, but guess what, I just remembered a few questions I had about your girl…

Is that your girl right there, or did Greg Oden just get out of hibernation and put on a Bea Arthur wig? Was that a drive by shooting, or did your girl just jog around the corner with her knee’s knockin that hard? To be honest, I don’t even mind that your girl has a moustache. I just want to know how she grew it on the back of her neck? Is that your girl over there trying to blow a bubble, or did someone teach that gorilla how to beat box? Also, can you just tell your girl they won’t put a cake and candles in her Taco Bell Big Box? It’s not her birthday, and she is holding up the line. Damn your girl is fat! Uh oh, is your girl trying to rob me? Oh wait, that’s just her cookie dough lip-gloss switchblade. If I’d known your girl was going to use my vacuum cleaner for her butt crack I would have put in a fresh bag before she barrowed it, now it’s all jammed up with M&Ms. Did your girl really name her first child Jackinda Box, that’s just messed up? And can you please get your girl to shave her palms! Her handshake scratches more than a crack head DJ with head lice. Tell your girl if she is gonna wear donut hole earrings she can’t keep trying to bite them in church, she is causing a scene! And did your girl really mount a microwave in your bathroom and then take a “staycation” in there for spring break? I saw your girl at Starbucks yesterday with a Glen Davis jersey on drinking a double shot of bacon fat. She was trying to check her email on a light bright. Damn your girl stupid! Tell your girl next time she eats a Turducken on her lunch break she can go ahead and leave her shirt on. We don’t mind a stained shirt, but no one needed to see that stomach! Your girl’s belly button looked like an old Hershey kiss that had been dropped into a dusty vat of mashed potatoes! Also, if I had a third nipple I wouldn’t name it “left eye” and talk to it. That’s just drawing attention to it.


One Response to “Say I won’t roast your girl again!”

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