Tragedy on 32rd 33nd
Worst day ever. My coke deal went down the drains and I wasn't able to meet the income I wanted for this week. I had so many kids coming up asking for some rock, but kids...you know I gotta hold it for my best customers, and you ain't them. So as I disappointed many aspiring snorters (a little slang term we use in the cokay bizzay) I was also disappointed as most of my better customers never showed and if they did they were only willing to pay minimal. Then I found out I got some competition in the cocaine league of selling, so I went over to his house for a little to talk it out. Dude wasn't there, so then I fucked his mom!...crap!
Seriously: he wasn't at his house, so I ran out, storming like an ape. A thunderstorming gore-illa. UGGH! Anyway, I needed something to cheer me up after a long day of bad coke dealing so I headed over to my homie Jermaine's apartment. There he was, fuckin' my girl Vashawna on his sofa. I couldn't believe it. I ran in there real mad. We started yelling, had a little manage a trois, (aka fuckin' 3-way style if you catch my drift), cleaned up, more yelling...then he stole my jacket (which had tons of coke still in it) and threw it down the fire escape into an open dumpster. That's when I called our friendship off. It's over, Brad. It's over. You too, Vashawna.
My grade-A cocaine I was sporting today.
My ex-friend Jermaine. You may be wondering a few things about this photo: how did I get such a close-up action shot of him, why does he look like Justin Timberlake (from the old, GOOD days of N*Sync...duh), and why are their national guards surrounding him? Well, buddy, the answer is "yes".
I have nothing to live for any more.
Seriously: he wasn't at his house, so I ran out, storming like an ape. A thunderstorming gore-illa. UGGH! Anyway, I needed something to cheer me up after a long day of bad coke dealing so I headed over to my homie Jermaine's apartment. There he was, fuckin' my girl Vashawna on his sofa. I couldn't believe it. I ran in there real mad. We started yelling, had a little manage a trois, (aka fuckin' 3-way style if you catch my drift), cleaned up, more yelling...then he stole my jacket (which had tons of coke still in it) and threw it down the fire escape into an open dumpster. That's when I called our friendship off. It's over, Brad. It's over. You too, Vashawna.
My grade-A cocaine I was sporting today.
My ex-friend Jermaine. You may be wondering a few things about this photo: how did I get such a close-up action shot of him, why does he look like Justin Timberlake (from the old, GOOD days of N*Sync...duh), and why are their national guards surrounding him? Well, buddy, the answer is "yes".
I have nothing to live for any more.