You're only running a treadmill.

I'm a beast.
What, they corresponded through E-Mail?
The three stooges were stopped in their tracks by the facts.
They grew cactus like factories made freeways,
buried on the bodies of dead children,
I'm a martyr, go on act toy with me, I'll hire a hitman.

67%.

Wayne's World turned into a Jisoe fueled bowl of pens with a naked Mary Kate Olsen doll. Empty bottles of Fanta and feelgoods.

Oh, oh oh.
I POKE HER SO MUCH I DESERVE A BRACELET.


Huxley held the Hell's Angels from their hair over the halfway house's heightened hallway. I WILL WIN, THEY KNOW THIS BUT THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE WAY OF THE PEACEFUL WARRIOR.

MUST ADO ABOUT NOTHING

"My team of five tailors sews my pants on one thread at a time, just like anyone else."

Time travel with a Dremel. PCP, where are you?
I wanna eat my face, but not like a dirty gurner.
I DO MY RESEARCH.
CHANCES ARE I KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU THAN YOU KNOW ABOUT ME, AND I WRITE ABOUT IT ON THE INTERNET.

AND YOU FUCKING WITH ME?
I'd rather just laugh at the powder puff, powder snotted out sponsored kids.
I PUT THE FUCKEN' A IN W.A AND THE IC IN V.I.C.

Part two motherfuckers.

SURPRISE.

Hunt this out.

Any mixtape that can pull off jumping from ripping on Dorrough then straight into ripping into Jay-Z's D.O.A is good enough for me.

No Ceilings, motherfucker good morning, dick in yo' mouf like, why you yawning?

My flow sick, your flow, dead.

Live from the Bunker.

"I raise the bar, make noise, put it down and get applause like a weightlifter/
You could have twenty mates with ya, i'll leave you choking on the mic like you sipping straight paint stripper/
And make your women yell for me, they're hell horny, I'll have that pussy locked down like Schapelle Corby."

-Bigfoot


Pirate speech.
From coast to coast these feminazi alcholics won't stop pressing a horde of potato stamps into my face. I'm a Raging Bull, without the shit, you know i come through with hit after hit. So many impossible combos to leave your lip split.
MY METHOD IS BACKWARDS AND OLD FASHIONED.
Copies of "Things I Hate in Two Thousand and Eight" will be floating around yr best mates houses soon. If you like what you read, email me and fucken buy one.
THIS LABOUR OF LOVE HAS TURNED TO A JOB I HATE.
The devolution solution, soluble in water, cold water extractions, grab the pestle and the mortar.

Call it a case of a drag queen has been eating cold baked beans in the wrong scene.
Let's Jimmy this shit up.

Yesterday was just yesterday, tommorow is yesterday in two days, last week was just seven days ago, I need a Bundy.
Wow, how did I do that? I think I just let my fingers do the walking, strutting around the keyboard not really knowing what direction Alice would take.

IMMA STALK HER ANYWAY.
YOU CAN PAY 666 EUROS TO GET AN EVIL CLOWN TO STALK SOMEONE YOU KNOW FOR A WEEK.

IT ENDS WITH A PIE IN THE FACE.

Round Here.

You should all be about Robin Elliot.
This dude is blowing up like Mike Jones' telephone.
Click here to view his catalogue.




















Sorry Mum.

Work in Progress.

Just busy being busy.

Shout out to Mr. Bean keeping it mean in the East London scene, Trashing British Property.
We, are, the firm, sit down, listen, and learn.









































Make an offer for the sign please, I need cash.