Ladies and gentlemen, pimps and players. Halfass rappers and true-rhyme sayers. Gobshites all over the world. Apparently googling for blog post ideas didn’t work, or else I wouldn’t be here drawing on lame lyrics by the one person I truly hate with my blood pressure a little bit gobsmacked since the only thing I found, besides imagining, to my discomfort, the last line rolling out of Lil Wayne's steel traps, was a blog post a bout a dude who was googling for blog posts ideas when it hit him, why not write about what to write about when you have nothing to write about when you wanna write yet can’t think of anything to write about? Well, I dunno if it’s just me but how can he know what to write about when he was googling for something to write about because he had nothing to write about to begin with? Couldn’t he have just used up the reserve of nonsensical compilation and save me the motherfuckin chafe of it all? Isn’t it enough that I had my memory of Lil Wayne’s mouth jogged fresh?
So, going through the usuals, writing on random discussion boards and checking notifications, it hits me. Why is it always the one who doesn’t give a shit? I mean, come to think of it, it’s always the badass. This probably doesn’t make sense to most of you. Good. To those of you who do, zip it. Better.
“She fucking hates me
And I love it
Wait
Where you going
I'm leaving you
No you ain't
Come back”
Goldfish are not cute. I lost all liking I ever had for lollipops. Popping wrists for confession and threatening to punch a boob are called torture. I don’t talk slowly and I sure as hell am NOT scary. Blunt? Yeh. Whimsical, reckless and kinda suicidal? Kinda. Cold? Yup. Badass? To a reasonable extent. But Scary? Gimme a break. And last but not least, my eyes are NOT yellow.
“You ever love somebody so much
You can barely breathe
When you're with them
You meet
And neither one of you
Even know what hit 'em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Yeah them chills
Used to get 'em
Now you're getting fucking sick
Of looking at 'em
You swore you've never hit 'em
Never do nothing to hurt 'em
Now you're in each other's face
Spewing venom”
Cabbies should be born dumb, security guards blind and content managers deaf.
Marijuana should be legal, because other than the fact that it’s nature’s way of saying high, therapy is expensive, organized belief is poison and a gun to the head is not something you can walk off by drinking a lot of liquids like a friendly hangover. Keeping hydrated doesn’t put your head back together at that, unless humpty dumpty is a distant relative.
Everyone should have a life-long supply of Moro bars, gebna roumy and armed with a microwave. Who could ask for more?
“Next time I'm pissed
I'll aim my fist
At the dry wall
Next time
There will be no next time
I apologize
Even though I know it's lies
I'm tired of the games
I just want her back”.
Oh, and Maow means dude not mom. So does “brenghi”.