|
|
|
|
 | |  |
| It just ain't right for a small woodland creature to talk like Tupac's broke-ass cousin. Maybe you need therapy. | |
 | |  |
|
 |
| | |
| Whateva. My game is screwed on tight, a'ight? Give me my props. | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| You have to recapture your true identity, Malcolm! You've been subverted by gangsta rap, BET, and spinning rims! | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| Say what? Who you callin' perverted? Yo mama's perverted, punk! | |
| | |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| | |
| Oh HELLS no! No you di'nt! I'm about to get REAL black up in here. NOBODY talks about my mama! | |
| | |
|
 |
| | |
| Ain't my fault the bitch got a token slot on her head board. I be gettin' the all-day pass, myself. Holla! | |
| | |
|
|
|
