|
The first part of the excuse
|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| OK...tell me your fuckin story. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
| | |
| OK...it goes like this. Back when we actually had stuff on our walls, a guy came to visit me, he said he could give me a job. | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
"He told me to meet him by this wall..."
|
|
|
|
| | |
| So all you have to do is go around neighboorhoods waving bags around, and people will buy them for 20 bucks a piece...so do you want the job? | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| This sounds just like selling crack... | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| Fine, meet me at my house everyday at 9 PM for the stuff | |
| | |
|
|
| | |
| I'm not gonna sell any crack. | |
| | |
|
|
|
