Cartoon Network has consistently had the best block of programming since TV FUNHOUSE was cancelled.
I am a little nervous about McGRUDER allowing actual voices to be put to his characters, but at the same time I am proud of the step he has taken since DOONSEBURY was apparently too chickenshit to take it to the next level.
Now I have exactly thirty minutes to microwave a frozen burrito, roll a blunt, take a shit and masturbate in between ‘Curb‘ and ‘BOONDOCKS‘
Are you my Caucasian? Chuuuch!
Baby, B.S. in honey do, Cam, V.S. 1 and 2.
I’ll help you get your son out of P.S. 22.
He in bootcamp, you on food stamps.
Welfare, no healthcare, a true tramp.
And I’m lowkey, Loki, leave you pokey, pokey.
No Rice a Roni, that’s the okey dokey.
Me and my homie Toby, make you do the hokey pokey.
Pull the pound, up and down, turn yourself around shorty.
Here’s some weed, burn yourself a pound whoadie.
Here’s a map, go load yourself a town, sporty.
I was down forty, now I’m up fifty.
Buck fifty, buck quickly, who could fuck with me?
This past weekend we almost lost another crapper to lyrical foretelling. This loss would have meant that JAY-Z has one less crapper to declare war against, but we at the website feel the absence would have had much greater impact. We would have lost a great thinker. In the abstract sense and the literal. How many crappers can use the word ‘hood’ to end a rhyme couplet four consecutive times and each time the meaning for ‘hood’ is different? Hood in the sense of neighborhood. Hood as in occupation. Hood as in apparel and hood as in that layer of skin that covers a women’s clitoris.
This is the genius of CAM’RON GILES, ne, DIP SET. We almost lost a young Black genius to the violence that often accompanies Howard University’s Homecoming celebration. CAM’RON knew that people were targeting him. He even wrote a verse to express his feeleings about the situation…
You wanna kill me come and do it I don’t give a fuck,
Diplomats live it up, clak, clak, give it up.
This nigga with the ice mug stuntin? [He won’t bust nothing]
Yo, talkin bout he gon’ touch somethin [He won’t bust nothing]
Yo sayin that he too much frontin [He won’t bust nothing]
Yo, he just a fake thug bluffin [He won’t bust nothing]
And his man with the ice grill frontin [He won’t kill nothing]
Yo, he outside with the mil frontin [He won’t kill nothing]
Talkin bout he some real somethin [He won’t kill nothing]
Sayin yo I’ma kill something! [He won’t kill nothing]
Not a collecter of Picasso, but everybody in my cipher got dough
Neglect a rock row, go to Harve and not dough ho,
but Hector, Comancho, mi amigo rockin in the side bitch,
Maxin out to Marvin?, can’t know it
That’s why I keep the BLAM BLAM loaded.
Club grand open, next week we grand close it, come and kill me
No CAM’RON not this time. You still have more rhymes to write. Harlem.
I’m the one who is the low-key Don,
dick stay hard call me Pokemon.
I’m the one they call cutie pie.
I’m the one with the Gucci tie.
I’m the one with the brand new Benz, ‘droopy eye’.
thats the one they said “I knew he’d buy”.
I’m the one who be fly.
I’m the one that hit it from the back, dookie pie.
Where I’m from kids get it hectic,
but get arrested, get respected
Piss infested, dislexic
Take caution, money, for extortion money
Girls fake it just for abortion money