Homicide would know the profile.
Once you cross the line, man, you're in a different world. Everything seems...strange. It's like the whole world is made of cardboard and people's heads are made of eggshells.
My cleaner came in, as usual, and then I yelled at her.
"Pick it up, bitch! Or Imma pop a cap in yo ass, motherfucka!"
She flipped the bird.
Goddamn ghetto girls.
"Ain't want yo koochie, chica!"
"Besa me culo, esse!"
Eh! Menjawab! Melayu habis.
So I pulled out my Graviton Energy Transmitter.
BLAM!
And took down a wall.
I hear sirens. No, wait, that's just the baby next door crying.
I went to the park and got me eight joints.
War goin' on, man. Somethin' comin' down tonight. I got to do the lay-low from the five-oh.
Out on the LAM, bitch!
I am so fucking hardcore. I'm hardcore like, like Milli Vanilli. OG, yo!
