I DON'T GIVE A FUCK BOUT NONE OF THESE HO ASS NIGGAS I DON'T GIVE A FUCK BOUT NONE OF THESE HOES ASS NIGGAS I'M DRUNK AS FUCK MIGHT FIRE ON ONE OF THESE NIGGAS WE DRUNK AS FUCK WE BOUT JUMP THIS NIGGA BRUISER! THAT'S MY CREW BRUISER! BUT DON'T FORGET THE BREW DRINKING EVERYTHING UP ON THE SHELF NOW WE EARLING IN THE BATHROOM I NEED SOME HELP BUT THAT'S THE LIFE OF BRUISER NIGGA DON'T MAKE ME HAVE TO SHOOT A NIGGA BITCH, IT'S BRUISER BRIGADE BITCH, IT'S BRUISER BRIGADE
How many times should you forgive your household bruiser? You should not even think about forgiving him. Not yet. Not as long as he has his foot on your neck. Your problem at this point is not forgiving. Your problem is how to get out of his reach. Once you get away from him, you can think about forgiving him.
Lewis B. Smedes
[Lennie meets Joe - he works out that she was named after John Lennon] I nod. "Mom was a hippie." This is northern Northern California after all - the final frontier of freakerdom. Just in the eleventh grade we have a girl named Electricity, a guy named Magic Bus, and countless flowers: Tulip, Begonia, and Poppy - all parent-given-on-the-birth-certificate names. Tulip is a two-ton bruiser of a guy who would be the star of out football team if we were the kind of school that has optional morning meditation in the gym
I NEED SOME BRAIN I THINK I LOST MINE I'M HIGHER THAN SWIZZ BEATZ HAIRLINE YOU ALWAYS CAKE UP THEN BAKE UP SAY WHAT? YOU RAPPERS CUFF AND YOU FAKE AS LACE FRONTS DOPEHEAD HUSTLE HARDER, NIGGAS CAN'T KNOCK IT SUPER SKINNIES, LOOSIES BREAKING IN MY BACK POCKET I SLAM A RAPPER HEAD FIRST LIKE THE UNDERTAKER HEAD BUTT YOUR WHOLE SKULL IN, NIGGA FUCK A HATER YOU SOFT AS ELVIN OF THE COSBY'S MY NIGGAS DOWN TO DO A HOMI BRUISER BRIGADE AND DON'T FORGET THE BREW STYLING ON RAPPERS SINCE NORTHWESTERN HIGH SCHOOL CALLING ME AHEAD OF MY TIME IS AN INSULT I DON'T NEED A PENCIL THIS SHIT IS ALL MENTAL YOU RAPPERS ARE WHACK, MAD AS HELL AND YOU BORED AS FUCK I HIT THE STAGE GRAB THE MIC AND DO MY JORDAN SHRUG