Saturday, 9 January 2010

Tuesday, 5 January 2010

Wednesday, 4 March 2009


My favourite conspiracy theory for years has been that in the 90's when gangster rap was huge and white middle class kids all over America were in to it, the government gave Geffen Records a butt load of cash to pump into Nirvana to take the musical emphasis of the time off Ganster rap.

Im not sure where i first heard this and i cant find any other references to it anywhere but in my head it kinda makes sense.

Today while fruitlessly looking for some info on it i came across another crazy theory.

That Kurt is in fact NOT dead, he faked it! In fact Kurt Cobain has been writting and releasing records all along. Kurt Cobain is Rivers Cumo!

Friday, 27 February 2009

No matter how many new records i buy or new bands im discovering, right now i just keep on coming back to this stuff. Total timeless classic hip hop. It totally cant be beaten.


Yeah. motherfuckers better know... huh, huh. lock your windows,
Close your doors. biggie smalls, huh...yeah.

Verse one:

My man inf left a tec and a nine at my crib
Turned himself in, he had to do a bid
A one-to-three, he be home the end of 93
Im ready to get this paper, g, you with me?

Motherfucking right, my pockets looking kind of tight
And Im stressed, yo biggie let me get the vest

No need for that, just grab the fucking gat
The first pocket thats fat the tec is to his back
Word is bond, Im a smoke him yo dont fake no moves (what? )
Treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move

Nigga, you aint got to explain shit
Ive been robbin motherfuckers since the slave ships
With the same clip and the same four-five
Two point-blank, a motherfuckers sure to die
Thats my word, nigga even try to bogart
Have his mother singing its so hard...

Yes, love love youre fucking attitude
Because the nigga play pussy thats the nigga thats getting screwed
And bruised up from the pistol whipping
Webs on the neck from the necklace stripping
Then Im dipping up the block and Im robbing bitches too
Up the herring bones and bamboos
I wouldnt give fuck if youre pregnant
Give me the baby rings and a #1 mom pendant

Im slamming niggaz like shaquille, shit is real
When its time to eat a meal I rob and steal
cos mom duke aint giving me shit
So for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter
Huh, word to mother, Im dangerous
Crazier than a bag of fucking angel dust
When I bust my gat motherfuckers take dirt naps
Im all that and a dime sack, where the paper at?

Verse two:

Big up, big up, its a stick up, stick up
And Im shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup
Dont let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece
The opposite of peace sending mom duke a wreath
Youre talking to the robbery expert
Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt
Dont be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant
cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent

Huh, goodness gracious the papers
Where the cash at? where the stash at?
Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug
From the main thug, .357 slug
And my nigga biggie got an itchy one grip

One in the chamber, 32 in the clip
Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel
Before you find out how blue steel feel

From the beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater
The money getter motherfuckers dont have better
Rolex watches and colourful swatches
Im digging in pockets, motherfuckers cant stop it

Man, niggaz come through Im taking high school rings too
Bitches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles
And when I rock her and drop her Im taking her door knockers
And if shes resistant baka! baka! baka!

So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too

Tell him biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?

I hope apologetic or Im a have to set it
And if I set it the cocksucker wont forget it

Verse three:

Man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet
But money looks sweet (where at? ) in the isuzu jeep

Man, I throw him in the beem, you grab the fucking c.r.e.a.m
And if he start to scream bam! bam!, have a nice dream
Hold up, he got a fucking bitch in the car
Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar

Ooh biggie, let me jack her, I kick her in the back
Hit her with the gat...

Yo chill, shorty, let me do that...
Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block
The bitch act shocked, gettin shot on the spot
(oh shit! the cops!) be cool, fool
They aint gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts
(so why the fuck he keep lookin? ) I guess to get his life tooken
I just came home, aint trying to see central booking
Oh shit, now he lookin in my face
You better haul ass cos I aint with no fucking chase
So lace up your boots, cos Im about to shoot
A true motherfucker going out for the loot

Sunday, 8 February 2009

Sexy dog!

Wednesday, 14 January 2009



Friday, 9 January 2009