| Lemme lay it on ya. I was on my break from the land of city sports, my
work, my palace of employment, of which I am king. And Im rolling along
commonwealth avenue, pimpin my pimp walk, and diggin the fly grove, dig?
Ima set it up for you now. In between, the city sport palace of employment, and the store 24, there is a club. The paradise. The young and the hip and the old and the grovey come from all around to hear their favorite rock and roll funk club grove mother fucker. Dig? So Im strutting my sly an fly up an down the block when I spy out my right eye, a big ass bus. I know I did not go on my break looking for trouble. But hey, mother fucker, seems to me trouble can be looking for you. All a sudden, out of the bus hops a little tricky looking good for nothing wee snap doe diggy, and he points at me an says: "hey, what's going on?" I aint no body to to lift my fist a fine dip to trip on no damn mans noes, but shit, seems this little tain bug for rug was mocking my stock. Dig? So I keep rocking right up to the big ole bus and I point my finger up at the no good damn tramn fa shamn, I say "hey man, aint no need to bay diddle the deed, dig?" He gives me a funny look looking like he thinks I aint but right out my skull, so I say "hey may fay tre-bay, don't but try nut lookin over my head like your top of the stack, mack." and so I guess he new he was not but a wee shit, so he says "Ok, dude, sorry" and I tell him "man, don't think nothing of it, gotcha." So this little non scoundrel tap on the bus cram step roosting minor invites me onto the bus on the grounds that Im the boss. On the bus was the band, and the band was on, well moss def wasn't the bus. Less that some slang I don missed no catch fraze on the side ways turn around. An I never do. Lemme lay it on you again, I nay done seen jumpy mother fuckers before, but shit, dem tam natches toe snortin cap frachas was bouncing off all the bus walls. So I told them I had to leave right waya for my break was straight up bout to expire, no liar. On upon I was told I had been street drafted into thier band to replace they ten watt back bit three record recorder. They wanted me to slap the slang right on stage in the paradise. Tam bon forta dat time I was the rider of the wind of bad news and told them that I aint no aloud in this club, being under 18. Them bouncing bouncing drag on band bus doubts don have a fit at that, no scam. Pagers and guitars flying woosh woosh over my head, dang man I tell you I almost got do de nutted by the wild drum man, shit, I knew I had to get out. So I got my stand hand trunch self off the buss in no time flat. Thee end. |
Dan @ THEDAN.com (send some funk mail, dig?)
coffee black. uh white, coffee white. er, copyright.