Thursday, February 11, 2010
Imagine my shock, son. I’ve got no hoes. I worked them pretty hard usually, so I guess it isn’t much of a surprise, but I can’t say that I truly expected such an abrupt end. My reign of terror thought it would see a thousand years! Fuck. The power, glory, gone. Greene would have understood. Now I’m sitting here doing the math for invisible bitches. Calculating interest which reality forces to zero, I’m alone, stinking, unafraid. Some lonely fuck will get laid soon enough. I know it. I’ll come back! No purple swagger trollop will flout my plans. This can’t be my last stand, my humble demise. No I’ll go searchin the screets later for my bimbo prize. I’ve still got money, I’ll just offer some incentive for the bitches hoe-ry. Yeah, they thought I was crazy for keepin my Supermart job. Ha! I’m gonna make dope-aid out of this pinch of weed. A true pimpin fuck doesn’t let his hoes have that kind of power. The kind of power that’ll make him go beggin for there bitch asses to come back with promises of a bigger keep of the gwap. Nah, besides that doesn’t work, trust me. Mhm, this day is lookin bright all ready. Time for me to wander them streets, check out them malls, find the bitches who’ll gimme me them draws. A weak and lame flock is a hunter’s prey after a long, weary, uneventful day. Woe! Woe is me, I dare say.