So I woke up this morning with an itch, an itch that took approximately 12 hours to scratch. It is definitely the most crazy stuff I’ve ever written and the mildest on his part.
Dudes and Dudettes, I present to you my first collabo with the awesome, the crazy and the extremely talented literary Maestro @oVunderkind. Prepare to be bamboozled!
Disclaimer: the following story contains verses of strong languages, stanzas of violence! Strains of prejudice, choruses of sexually explicit exploits and of course explosive libretto!.
This is be some kray story….niccuh who wrote this must be high on some very potent shii I guess, buh its still a hella cool story. I make no claim as to the authenticity of the story, it seems implausible that the dude was telling the truth, but you, the reader must decide for yourself. And please do not try this at home.
Cuz I don’t wanna fall asleep
So just pour it in my drink and ima sip until I lean hard
Drink got me moving slower than a retard
So press record and hear these hot raps
Mehn I’ve gat just an hour left, how do you cram a lifetime into that?
Ha well….lemme get to it, this might just be my last chance. They call me le SSN, The syrup sipping niccuh. Some say I’m a superhero, to some I think I’m kinda a villain, while some fucked up dudes just don’t give a fuck about me….. Anyways, this here is my story.
*Some indeterminate time ago*
I woke up in a vague environment, misty and lacking any distinction
I always wake up hazy, that’s just part of being awesome. Got my pee on, Stretched a bit and reached for ma pack of ciggs.
There was just a stick let… this wasn’t even enough to kick start my day so I grabbed my hoodie and headed out.
Lemme tell you dude, the best time to go buy ciggawets is that cold, misty early morning, the day just being born, the street ain’t yet been polluted by the exhaust fumes, loud chatter/music and of course,them holier-than-thou fellows. The sweet smell of morning dew greeted me as I stepped outta my crib, it was just 5:45 in the morning.
Mehn no need to dull you with sordid details of my stroll to the corner store and back, buh it was now 6:00am and I had me a packet of Dunhill switch, a snap of my trusty goldplated lighter and it was time for my morning fix.
I am sittin on the clouds
I got smoke coming from my seat
I can play basketball with the moon
I got the whole world at my feet
Playin’ touch football on Marijuana Street
Or in a marijuana field
You are so beneath my cleats
Get high, so high that I feel like lying
Down in a cigar
Roll me up & smoke me cause
I feel like dying
I see the world like steven spielberg while editing a movie….in slow mo. And that ma niccuh is my greatest power, I slow down time.
Lemme give this to you straight up, I’m not an alien, I ain’t from mars or neptune,krypton or whereever the superhero’s in your fucked up comics and perverted fantasies come from, like I always say “you smoke on dat reggie bush…..but I smoke on Kryptonite” What renders superman weak is what I smoke and it kinda tickles my balls too.
I’m a straight up Naija-Dude, I’ve been told I’m lanky, built like a weed and that I walked like I’m being swayed by the seawind on the quarterdeck of a ship. I don’t give a fuck bout all that, all I want you to know Is that I’m fucking awesome….repeat that please!
I eat once a day, don’t work out, don’t sleep( I just go into a trance, sorta like your pc, I hibernate) and fuck like a horse when the environment is stable.
Back to was I was saying before I rambled away….it was 6am and time for my morning fix. Like I said before, I don’t do beer, I don’t do wine, no spirit nor “shepke”.
I only drink”the drink of life”the source of my one great power……
Sippin on some drink the color purple like sili
Really they say I should chill before it kills me
But so will a car crash or a nine milli
And I aint even mention cigarettes or airplanes
like DMX said; “same old shii dawg, just a different day”…. Perfect line to set the stage for my tale about the syrup.
I got myself fixed up, no main lining toxins for this niggur, I just grabbed a bottle of good ole benylin and hit the road.
You might be wondering where I was off to this early morning, if you actually give a fuck, alas you don’t . I’m still gonna tell you tho’ I was on my way to meet up with my niggas, the alumni of me, myself and I and from there we were gonna meet up with them Gon squad and settle this shit. Today it all must come to an end.
I was too cheap for Timberland’s, so I rocked my Converse AllStars like I was brand ambassador or sum’n. Too cheap for Beats by Dre, too, ma niggah, so these “Whips by Drake” headphones were my constant headgear.
I love me my Aba niggies.
Hey. Niggah. You distracted. Focus on this story, mahn. Ef Oh See You Ess…
Ah. So, as ah was driftin’, yo’ niggah is too cheap for every thing, that is, except my syrups. Heck, I play by a lotta things, but niggah, touch my syrups and you better got the Navy S.E.A.L.s on Speed Dial.
Shit. I lost the story again. Ef Oh See You…okay.
So, I hooks up with my guys, alry? The three other niggahs who managed to be as awesome as my hot self.
I kinda like I though, he’s got this squint that makes me laugh when I am feeling pretty fucked up.
Myself was the niggah that creeped me out. He had this low slouch, like he was thinking bad things, ya know, like he was thinking of doing the president doggy style while the whole country watched. Creppy mo’afucker.
Now, Me. Pretty cool bastard, if there ever was one. No trouble. No fun either. Guess he okay then?
So, here we go, three of us, rocking our converses and our Whips By Drake. We marchin’ up the side street, knowing damn well that we’re gonna bust more than our fair share of noses today, mate.
I shoggest some music to the squad. “We should be listening to “Many Men”, mahn. It’s kinda suiting our ambiance.”
Myself looked at me. “Fuck, niggah. Ambiance? What? You go to that night school now?”
Me chuckles like a bawse and smiles. “Ambiance. Niggah you cray. Next you’ll be telling us you wanna get a degree or sum’n.”
I squinted and suddenly I felt like laughing. Had to stop myself though, lest I be considered a mocker. Don’t want I to be thinking me a mocker, you see. I and I have been pretty cool.
I smiled. “What joint you want us to play then?”
Myself yelled, “Ghost Mode, mahn. Ghost Mode by Phyno.”
“Mahn”, Myself cried. “I am sorry, mahn. Forgive me guys. I dunno what came over me.”
“You should be ashamed of your self niggah.” I spat.
“I can’t even look at you right now.” Me was utterly disappointed.
You wonder what your boy was doing at the time? I was taking a swig off my syrup when I stopped.
We had arrived.
The Gon squad was here.
Okay, so get a load of this.
Me. Myself. I. And of course, yours truly.
We wuz standing there, you know, really casual like, looking at the Gon gang. Bloody assholes didn’t even make like they knew we were there. Mosta ‘em facking niggahs were just sitting down, ya know, some standing, and a helluva lot of them just making a fucking ruckus.
Myself – I did tell you the niggah gat some thing in his eye – shouts. “Hey, you. Gon Gang! Bitches!”
Ah, heck. I love it when we take centre stage. All them bitch ass niggahs is looking at us right now, like, WTF? And get a load of this – we dun gi a fack!
I is looking pretty excited, and you remember he got some of those Chinese slit-eyes to start with, so I reckon his eyes have gotten as wide as buttons, and he is looking to start some real shit right now.
Friends, I am thinking. They always gat your back.
Now, I know you are probably thinking, you know, you are thinking like, what the fack did the Gon Gang do – how bad did the moafukkas fack up for me to bring three of my deadliest niggahs to whoop their ass?
See, this is a tale of romance, a tale of passion ignited at dusk, when two bodies meet and set off sparks that drench the skies with a kaleidoscope of colors…
My syrup dose must be wearing off. Hol’ up. Hol ‘up. Gotta refill. Chill.
**Couple of sips later**
Where were we? Yes. Bitches. ‘Course. Bitches be the only reason niggahs fight, didn’t ya know? Now, yours truly was casually toasting a beech of the Gon gang, and these niggahs had to go ruin it for me. Telling the beech that I wasn’t no good niggah.
Dat..dat…I sipped too many syrups.
Can you imagine that, niggah? How is it possible to sip too many syrups? That’s…that’s like a scienfiteek unpossibility!
Beech began to ignore me. Won’t take my calls mahn. And I bought a Blackberry and stuff so I could ping with the beech.
So, Myself, I and Me were here with me to collect me some pound of flesh.
A Gon goon walks up ta me, ya know, trying to touch me and stuff, and I blocks his way, yelling “Touch him, moaf’ka, TOUCH him, and amma slit your dick! Amma slit your dick and sew it buttons!”
Niggah is scared shitless. He rejoins his gang. Bloody cowards keep lookin’ a me.
Myself goes, “let’s fuck the beech in the ass and beat it.”
Me sighs. “No. Ass sex stinks.”
I coughs politely. “Niggahs. We gotta whip these dickheads before deciding what to do with the beech.”
‘Course. I is the smartest of the lot. Me is the slowest. Myself is the perviest. So we are gonna go bust us some Gon dicks when suddenly Myself pulls his pants and shows his hairy butt.
Me goes “niggah! What the fork mahn! What the forkkk?”
Myself says “Yesss niggahs! Kiss my hairy butt!”
I look at the butt. It is hair. It’s got jerry curls and centre parting and stuff.
I is not impressed. “Stop, moaf’ka, or amma slit your dick first.”
Myself does us another shocker. He takes a shit. Right there in front of the Gon gang. On the floor. Right there. There is a big black, pythony shit on the facking floor.
It stinks so much, tears come to our eyes.
It is so shiny, mahn. Like someone let Wande Coal stay too long near the Vaseline.
The Gon gang is in disarray, mahn. Beeches be running everywhere, some be throwin’ up, and some Gon dudes – gays, the lot of them – be pleading the Blood.
I can see Me about to drag Myself and beat the living crap out of him, and I flicks out a switchblade, maybe hoping to jam it up Myself’s offensive butthole, and I am like “We are supposed to be fighting them, niggahs. The Gon Gang!”
I am about to go twist the knife out of I’s hand when I see a Gon member approach me.
Facking niggah’s got a mean left hook.
“What got into him?” the dean asked.
“I don’t know sir. He just came into class, began talking to himself, and suddenly he pulled his trousers and took a dump in front of us.”
The dean sighed. “What’s that in his hand?”
“Just a bottle sir”
“What does it contain.”
“Not sure, sir. It says codeine here. Some form of cough syrup, maybe?”