the feature presentation

...fillies been trying hard to code bloods shit into their dialogue. y.b.c. to me's young b8tches cumming t8 me, my condom off. I did that shit to dul because his mouth ran off 'bout my youngin' shot up on 4-3 wyalusing ave. slumpers depart slumbers. :4.13x25 su: it's wackioo how I'm a' regulate the bloods circulation. u don't got a clue, huss'. the beys wwiiith me, got whole turkeys basted. the bitties whole bitches to me, and since there's no witness to me, how I got a way wwiiith murder's my own black inc. writ'-up proof-reads. brotherly love's got bloods stuck. pest-control? somebodies paid the price a visit, popsickled him to a corpse. new parents gave him life. so who's meek now? somebodies gotta' pay the price. the pawns is ripe for being picked-off left-and-right. the game's done, I won't spare his life. it's too late for luc', cannon. his brains already on fifty-sixth and l.a. back in overbrook two years ago. some nifty trick...

...and if blacc sam turns out to be haile selassie, I'll cover him, but the war's mine not his. jamaicas' lives worth what they're coveting. I been warning jib what I'm on. selective hearing won't save 'em. my god who has forsaken me is the clothing jib must wear then. jib the acronym of judas isc. brutus, now moore rice can't land. ay look, yes it's the fucking tony-christ show, god. your bitch can't win. :5.24.25 sa: I scene tales from the hood on times square, alright, so what's the times squared? with a bronze statue of my cuzn tee-tee inbetween white glares. look, tease a dead bitch if shes not holding it down for me. I'm here. look, trees to rednecks so when my axe hits the stumps, they'll be all dead, all headed to pallbearers put in graves with 'em. they'd be all scared. how lucyfer thought I'd give shits about 'em? bull shit be all smeared in minstrel make-up. wwiii all hear. bamboozled, huh. I'm beyond cares. I'm beyond ufo's, I'm beyond space stations, I'm beyond stares. I'm grounded though, put underground, cremated, and still feet on-square. the mothers'hip domed the party mix, earths not weaving these bald-heads...

...we'll come to club harlem shooting like sam christian, so man listen, there's no telling how I'm a' slime down tee/tease throat, her glands glisten from air tension. wwiii gotta' do this together? my stand-up is no comedy routine, q33ny. the fans' larynex ain't giggling. insexacide no man mentioned. the next to die's ya' mans bitching. israel has no moral compass to stand on or ask questions. I'm esau whom god hates, yeah. but the mistake was to think I care about my god whose forsaken me's life if god don't clear my air, lucyfer israel and not make-believe. wwiii keeps this between vs. the black september 5th's p.l.o. style caught charlucc's demeanor. his sister's my el'ev8tor. I'll piss in my elevator. my brains, guts and sam christian's trig' decorate my elevator twenty thousand four hundred ninety-three days ago now. showdown between me and lucyfer's host been in fillies, so you know now. been south philly, so you know now. mimah's happeness happyning got u. penn medics blessed. I'm still healing myself as shit go down. wharton school of business the square I'm from. donald trump I own now. and that's how I trump'd the u.s. until the u.s. I own now. the l.o.l. shit the illa' nois wasn't strong enough to drill. so when I speak I gots illa' nois, my words strong enough to kill. my chief trustee was qualified to offer me the partnership. that means he'll pronounce me the husband, israel my wife and shit...