Yo, bitches. K-Fizzle here.


I just snuck out of the house to pick up some shit at the mini-mart while Whatshername is home sticking Oreos in our new deep-fryer. [Dude, that's not a eupha...eupharm...something clean you say when you mean something dirty. Seriously, it's like she's sticking something into that deep fryer all damn day long. Something about craving something and batter being good for the baby? Whatever. I don't know. All I know is how good my baby batter is. AW YEAHS, BITCHES, I SAID IT. Heh. Heh. Dude, after my record drops I am totally going to get a gig at the Stand-Up Club or whatever that place Pauly Shore runs is called, because I TOTALLY CRACK MY SHIT UP.]

Yeah, anyway, I just ran out to get some water and some Cheetos and some beef jerky and some ice cream sandwiches and a couple of Twinkies and then I had to run by my dealer's house because B said she didn't want him to deliver my shit anymore because he was "a bad influence on the baby," or some shit, and then I was like, (a) the baby isn't even OUT yet, (2) it's not like he was a bad influence on all those other kids I have, I'm pretty sure, but then she said some BULLSHIT about not paying for it anymore and then, dude, I swear to God, she reached for my hand and TRIED TO PUT IT IN THE DEEP FRYER and, man, HORMONES, dude, dial it DOWN. So I ran out to give her some time to chill. She has been seriously so crabby ever since she caught me going through the safe.

Anyway, I'm trying and shit. I feel like I should at least try and stick it out for the kid, for a little while. And because she's been whining about my shoes for like the last SIX MONTHS, like, I will tie my shoes if I FEEL LIKE IT, bitch, I finally decided to shut her up and got a new pair. Check it:


Stylish AND functional, right? I love how it makes it look like I've got camel toe ON MY FEET. Heh. God, that's weird. It's like I'm a woman from the ankle down. Well, two women. Who have five legs inside their pants....well, three legs in one pant leg and two in....because of my actual toes...shit, now my head hurts. Analogies or whatever are fucking hard. But look how clean my socks are! Right out of the plastic bag, bitches. Ain't nothing too good for me now. As long as I can find my dealer's house and Her Majesty don't stick the manpris in the deep fryer, nothing can touch me, you know?

Peace izzle,

K-Fed