Tuesday, October 12, 2010


A Study Of the Deafening Effects of Melodic Beats, Thugs and Money

“Hey baby, wanna pop bottles and get down?”

“Nah Heezy, I think I might take it easy tonight. Coco gave me some Codeine and Dirty X - I’m gonna keep it straight this eve.”

“Wut baby? Don’t play, we got the best seats in the house. DJ gon’ hook it up for us, no lines, no probems.”

“Jeezy, chill yo; gurl can make up her own mind.”

“You know he be playin’ witchu, right gurl? No biggie, itz coo, we’ll lay low this eve and see what’s good lata, aight?”

“Yeh, okay B. I like how you be so understanding of me all the tyme. I appreciate that.”

“You know me gurl, always a gentleman. Let’s get outta here.”

“Beezy! Where you goin’ boi? We gotta finish this shit!”

“YO Grillz, chill son. I hitchu up lata, aight? Stop frontin’ yo! Shhhiiiiieeeet...”

“Damn G, that’s cold man. B just dun put you up like that! You gon take that?”

“Dun worry Heezy, it’s all good. We got this shit on lockdown tonight. We gon straight up post up at tha club. We dun need dem mayne.”

“Yeh G, I dig that. I dig that real hard – no homo – you know me.”

“Fureal B, fureal.”

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