Just another day in the life of a tomb raider-

“It’s all just a business… So go, go do business.”
-Lara Croft.

Danielle made the observation that I was g’d up from the feet up lookin’ like that tomb raidin’ Bo$$ bitch.

clASS-

2 bags of 75% off play-doh = $0.79 cents each, 5 blank disquettes = $3.99, 1 visit to Henry Ford with a side of H1N1 = $105.00 with insurance… leanin’ into a world of colored doh flattened into latkas for the simple purpose of an ass cast = pricele$$.

O.U.I. like BYE fuckin’ BYE-

This here is not a game,
this here is our lives;
we can’t fuck this up,
we gotta get it right.

N(2D).

I’ve gotta dirty mouf, but my kitchen’s clean-

I never really thought I’d catch myself saying something such as this, but here we go… I thoroughly ENJOYED my dentist appointment this semi-early mornin’. I cracked open my eyes, and my ‘tude was surprisingly crank-less (I am far from a morning Marsha.), so I pre-rinse gargled and brushed the living shit out of my teeth then hit the door. Not only was it unnecessary for me to sign in, but it was like Lil’ Jon was running that bitch and his “Real Nigga Role Call” joint was their theme song. I hit the chair, kicked my feet up, and got laced-up with the laughing gas mask. My dentist obviously wanted to get it poppin’ ’cause dude started the cavity-fill procedure stating, “Jazz my goddamn rear” and the hygienist skippity-doo-dopped to her feet and single handedly switched-up the beats blaring above. Bloomfield Hills Dental Care cranked that Lady GaGa (my hygienist also cranked the laughing gas so the doc could gimme a shot of Novocain) , and then they was goin’ in (my mouth) harder than Dr. Dwayne Carter. The playlist consisted of Jay-Z, that “Oh hot damn this is my jam… ” bullshit tune, and “Party in the U.S.gAy.” Give or take 15 minutes later, I was one cloud hoppin’ (literally outta the chair and all done) clucker. It was the quickest, easiest, and most ENJOYABLE cavity-fillage one could ever experience…

Yes, I know my right vampire tooth is chipped, but I am paying $545.00 for a flexi-mouth guard I get to wear at night due to my consistent grinding.

N.

Java Slut-

It was a normal day for us, headin’ to java hutt, gettin’ some work done, y’know. I headed to the counter to purchase the “hot” beverage aka the java caramel that I always do… But then, something made me want to take the other route of these so called “cold beverages”. After wrestling like a WWF star with my indecisive thoughts racketing in my grey matter, I decided on the “Java Coffee Cooler” whilst holding up a line, but does it look like I give a fuck/DILLIGAF? (Maybe I should just mob it after that one.) Fast service for a slow moving mothafucka such as myself, I grabbed the cup (mind you, the only think that irked me is that the “for here” cups made me think back to my 9th grade in high school year because the cups were straight caf ballin’.) I almost didn’t want to take the first slurp out of my favorite sort of straw (the bendy tip kind) because it looked like sucha beaut, but I did, and of course my taste buds died. Fuck starbucks, caribou, and any other “cold beverage” serving coffee shops because they need to step their game up after that one. I immediately told my Deezy F. what was up, and she took a sipslurp, and it was game over. Until Round 2, and if I had the bread on me, it’d be round 3.

Then the song “Do You Believe In Magic” came on and that’s it and that’s all, mayne. New spot, new drink. This is the perfect start to our perfect weekend of hillbillin’, cow tippin’, 4 wheelin’ thru mudd (the only jeans I rock), and the only legit norm A.K.A sizzurp, Texas tea, lean, double cup love, yella drank, UGK, Pimp C (we’ll softly clank our styrofoam cups in your honor, RIP), yelly jelly, slow cow, slo-mo, burre, ETC. I’ll be leanin’ tough and movin’ slow. I’ll fight sleep and doze off, sippin’ this drank to cure my cough, I can’t think my mind is blank, pardon me but I’ll be throwed off. You know what’s in my Styrofoam… What? S-Y-R-UP.

Question of the day: What is 25+5=?
Answer: A duchesshound.

D&N.

It’s goin’ downdown Barbie, pushin’ a red ferRAWWWRi-

Throw the camo in the rear, oops that’s where the engine gears.

Let ‘em talk, let ‘em hate, watch the rarri navigate straight up to the hunting gates.

Drinkin’ beers, hittin’ deers- bitch I got it while I steer.

Neezy f. baby, better yet deezy- old money owned, can’t catch us, baby.

Uh oh, now we switched up the whip.

Gripped the yellow lambo, wanna hear it let ‘er rip?

I call that bitch my bee sting, yellow/black stichin’, yeah, these hoes keep snitchin, but my car is pissin’ on of ‘em.

Pull up to the home base, yeah I got that 808, lift the lambo doors up, uhhh…

My bad- a bitch just got winged right up in her face.

Fly away, to my Miami/SoBe place, now we swervin’ at a ‘305 pace.

Surround myself with pounds and pounds, but I’m really just college bound.

We whippin’ those benzez, but now we both ridin’ in harajuku cars.

Took four bars, don’t remember much, but I woke up on mars…

So I guess this might make me a Martian?

It’s cool though as long as I’m not a Spartan.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the color green ’cause I’m always rollin’ with the dope queen.

Ehhh, I’m kinda sober now.

More or less because the more you take the less your mind can state in another mind state.

And I’m all for goin’ dumb and all that, but my brain is similar to a sewer rat.

Speakin’ of rats, I ain’t talkin’ bout no snitchin’ mayne, so getcho’ shit together if you wanna be knee-deep in this game.

Poppin’ wheelys, dentin’ rims, I hear he’s tellin’ ‘em I’m his bitch?

Who’s he think he fuckin’ with?

Sorry dude, don’t trip, it ain’t my beef that you just pussy whipped…

I’m equipped with oozies and banana clips, so you can taste this bullet before you eva taste this clit… again.

Tryna be my friend?

Homeboy getcho’ self a tissue, you gon’ need a box of ‘em by the time I get thru witchu.

Get a life, I ain’t trife, you just can’t see me even if you copped a guidance stick.

I’m better than that and yo’ dick.

Now he tryna holler and get my phat ass back…

One more thing, I  don’t give a fuck about yo’ dirty-ass stacks.

Didn’t you get robbed last year?

Chain and all, now you cryin’ tears.

Hold up, last I checked, it happened twice after that.

Haven’t you learned?

Wait…

Why would I even ask myself something like that?

You’ve got to be kiddin’, son, livin’ in walled lake is like livin’ in Compton.

Looks like I forgot all those white boys gotta stay grindin’.

Strapped, glocked, cocked, ready to attack, hold up.

Oakland County is ranked 3rd wealthiest, you ain’t from the ghetto so stop actin’ like you strruglin’ for that chedda.

3 fuckin’ years spent, now I’m straight fed-up just like K-Fed.

Stay away from the feds, praisin’ jeezy.

Anyways, Ima just pretend it was all just a real bad dream.

Gripped my whip and headed down Woodward, hit 8 mile, and then I pulled in clean.

I had to catch a peep show to realize what I was missin’.

NaNaNita minaj, nawww, I ain’t jockin’ Nikki, she can get a quickie, but even that’s an iffy.

Ya figgadill me?

D&N.