Post the first page of your favourite novel as translated from the gizoogle textilizer.
STATELY, PLUMP BUCK MULLIGAN CAME FROM THE STAIRHEAD, bearin a funky-ass bowl of lather on which a mirror n' a razor lay crossed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! A yellow dressin gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently-behind his ass by tha mild mornin air yo. Dude held tha bowl aloft n' intoned:
-- Introibo ad altare Dei.
Halted, he peered down tha dark windin stairs n' called up coarsely:
-- Come up, Kinch. Come up, you fearful jesuit.
Solemnly his schmoooove ass came forward n' mounted tha round gunrest yo. Dude faced bout n' pimped gravely thrice tha tower, tha surroundin ghetto n' tha awakin mountains. Then, catchin sight of Stephen Dedalus, his thugged-out lil' punk-ass bent towardz his ass n' made rapid crosses up in tha air, gurglin up in his cold-ass throat n' bobbin his head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Stephen Dedalus, displeased n' chilly, leaned his thugged-out arms on tha top of tha staircase n' looked coldly all up in tha bobbin gurglin grill dat pimped him, equine up in its length, n' all up in tha light untonsured hair, grained n' hued like pale oak.
http://www.gizoogle.net/textilizer.php
There was me, dat is Alex, n' mah three droogs, dat is Pete, Georgie, n' Dim, Dim bein straight-up dim, n' we sat up in tha Korova Milkbar makin up our rassoodocks what tha fuck ta do wit tha evening, a gangbangin' flip dark chill winta bastard though dry. Da Korova Milkbar was a milk-plus mesto, n' you may, O mah brother, have forgotten what tha fuck these mestos was like thangs changin so skorry these minutes n' dem hoes straight-up quick ta forget, newspaper not bein read much neither n' shit. Well, what tha fuck they sold there was gin n juice plus suttin' else. They had no license fo' pushin liquor yo, but there was no law yet against proddin a shitload of tha freshly smoked up veshches which they would put tha fuck into tha oldschool moloko, so you could peet it wit vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom or one or two other veshches which would hit you wit a sick on tha down-low horrorshow fifteen minutes admirin Bog And All His Holy Angels And Saints up in yo' left shoe wit lights burstin all over yo' mozg. Or you could peet it wit knives up in it, as we use ta say, n' dis would sharpen you up n' make you locked n loaded fo' a lil' bit of dirty twenty-to-one, n' dat was what tha fuck we was peetin dis evenin I be startin off tha rap with.
>>8017904
I owe tha discovery of Uqbar ta tha conjunction of a mirror n' a encyclopedia. Da mirror shitd tha depthz of a cold-ass lil corridor up in a cold-ass lil ghetto doggy den on Gaona Street up in Ramos Mejia,; tha encyclopedia is fallaciously called Da Anglo-Gangsta Cyclopedia (New York, 1917) n' be a literal but delinquent reprint of tha Encyclopedia Britannica of 1902. Da event took place some five muthafuckin years ago. Bioy Casares had had dinner wit me dat evenin n' we became lengthily engaged up in a vast polemic concernin tha comoposizzle of a novel up in tha straight-up original gangsta person, whose narrator would omit or disfigure tha facts n' indulge up in various contradictions which would permit few readers--very few--to perceive a atrocious or banal reality.
...Then Bioy Casares recalled dat one such of tha heresiarchz of Uqbar had declared dat mirrors n' gangbangin is abominable, cuz they increase tha number of pimps
Wardine say her momma aint treat her right. Reginald his schmoooove ass come round ta mah blacktop at mah buildin where me n' Delores Epps jump double dutch n' da perved-out muthafucka say, Clenette, Wardine be down at mah crib cry say her momma aint treat her right, n' I go on wit Reginald ta his buildin where he live at, n' Wardine be sit deep far back up in a cold-ass lil closet up in Reginald crib, n' da hoe be cry like a muthafucka. Reginald gone lift Wardine up tha closet n' mah crazy ass wit his ass bustin up like a biatch n' I be rub on tha wet all over Wardine grill n' Reginald be all kindsa careful when tha pimpin' muthafucka take off all her shirts she gots on, tell Wardine ta let me see. Wardine back all beat up n' cut up. Big stripez of cut all up n' down Wardine back, pink stripes n' round tha stripes tha skin like tha skin on folks lips be like. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sick down up in mah insides ta peep dat shit. Wardine be cry like a muthafucka. Reginald say Wardine say her momma aint treat her right. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Say her momma beat Wardine wit a hanger n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Say Wardine momma playa Roy Tony be wanna lie down wit Wardine. Be give Wardine candy n' 5s. Be stand up in her way up in Wardine grill n' he aint let her pass without he all tha time touchin her n' shit.
When I had journeyed half of our gamez way,
I found mah dirty ass within a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shadowed forest,
for I had lost tha path dat do not stray.
Ah, it is hard ta drop a rhyme of what tha fuck it was,
that savage forest, dense n' difficult,
which even up in recall reshizzle mah fear:
so bitta dirtnap is hardly mo' severe!
But ta retell tha phat discovered there,
I be bout ta also tell tha other thangs I saw.
I cannot clearly say how tha fuck I had entered
the wood; I was so full of chill just at
the point where I abandoned tha legit path.
But when I'd reached tha bottom of a hill
it rose along tha boundary of tha valley
that had harassed mah ass wit so much fear
this is retarded
>>8018132
you're retarded. fuck you.
>>8019705
he's right, you shouldn't have made this thread
Saw this thread and had to do catcher in the rye and see how it turned out (not fav novel)
you straight-up wanna hear bout it, tha straight-up original gangsta thang you’ll probably wanna know is where I was born, n' what tha fuck mah lousy childhood was like, n' how tha fuck mah muthafathas was occupied n' all before they had me, n' all dat Dizzy Copperfield kind of crap yo, but I don’t feel like goin tha fuck into it, if you wanna know tha real deal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. In tha straight-up original gangsta place, dat shiznit bores me, n' up in tha second place, mah muthafathas would have two hemorrhages apiece if I holla'd at anythang pretty underground bout dem wild-ass muthafuckas. They’re quitee touchy bout anythang like that, especially mah daddy n' shit. They’re sick n' all - I’m not sayin dat - but they’re also touchy as a muthafucka. Besides, I’m not goin ta rap mah whole goodam autobibliography or anything. I’ll just rap bout dis madman shiznit dat happened ta me last Chrizzle just before I gots pretty run-down n' had ta come up n' take it easy as fuck . I mean that’s all I holla'd at D.B. about, n' he’s mah brutha n' all yo. He’s up in Hollywood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! That aint too far from dis crumby place, n' his schmoooove ass comes over n' visits me practically every last muthafuckin week end yo, but it ain't no stoppin cause I be still poppin' yo. He’s goin ta drive me home when I bounce back ta tha doggy den next month maybe yo. Dude just gots a Jaguar. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. One of dem lil Gangsta thangs dat can do round two hundred milez a hour. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Well shiiiit, it cost his ass damn near four thousand bucks yo. He’s gots a shitload of dough, now yo. Dude didn’t use ta yo. Dude used ta be just a regular writer, when da thug was home yo. Dude freestyled thizs terrific book of short stories, Da Secret Goldfish, up in case you never heard of his muthafuckin ass. Da dopest one up in dat shiznit was «‘Da Secret Goldfish.’ Dat shiznit was bout dis lil kid dat wouldn’t let anybody peep his wild lil' freakadelic goldfish cuz he’d looted it wit his own scrilla. Well shiiiit, it capped mah dirty ass. Now he’s up in Hollywood, D.B., bein a hoe. If there’s one thang I hate, it’s tha pornos. Don’t even mention dem ta mah dirty ass.
>>8017914
>but there was no law yet against proddin a shitload of tha freshly smoked up veshches which they would put tha fuck into tha oldschool moloko, so you could peet it wit vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom or one or two other veshches which would hit you wit a sick on tha down-low
LOL this thread is 10/10
>>8019710
>he's
>It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. In tha straight-up original gangsta place, dat shiznit bores me, n' up in tha second place, mah muthafathas would have two hemorrhages apiece if I holla'd at anythang pretty underground bout dem wild-ass muthafucka
>>8017904
MOTHER took a dirt nap todizzle. It make me wanna hollar playa! Or, maybe, yesterday; I can't be sure. Da telegram from tha
Home says: YOUR MOTHER PASSED AWAY. FUNERAL TOMORROW. DEEP
SYMPATHY. Which leaves tha matta doubtful; it could done been yesterday. It make me wanna hollar playa!
Da Home fo' Aged Persons be at Marengo, some fifty milez from Algiers. With
the two o'clock bus I should git there well before nightfall. Then I can spend tha
night there, keepin tha usual vigil beside tha body, n' be back here by tomorrow
evening. I have fixed up wit mah employer fo' two days' leave; obviously, under tha
circumstances, his schmoooove ass couldn't refuse. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still, I had a scam he looked annoyed, n' I holla'd,
without thinking: "Sorry, sir yo, but it aint mah fault, you know."
Afterwardz it struck me I needn't have holla'd dis shit. I had no reason ta excuse mah dirty ass;
it was up ta his ass ta express his sympathy n' so forth. Probably da thug will do so tha dizzle
afta tomorrow, when da perved-out muthafucka sees me up in black. For tha present, itz almost as if Muthafucka
weren't straight-up dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da funeral will brang it home ta me, put a straight-up legit seal on it, so
to speak. ...
>>8019734
>afta tomorrow, when da perved-out muthafucka sees me up in black. For tha present, itz almost as if Muthafucka weren't straight-up dead as fuckin fried chicken.
Dat shiznit was tha dopest of times, dat shiznit was da most thugged-out shitty of times, dat shiznit was tha age of wisdom, dat shiznit was tha age of foolishness, dat shiznit was tha epoch of belief, dat shiznit was tha epoch of incredulity, dat shiznit was tha season of Light, dat shiznit was tha season of Darkness, dat shiznit was tha sprang of hope, dat shiznit was tha winta of despair, our crazy asses had every last muthafuckin thang before us, our crazy asses had not a god damn thang before us, we was all goin direct ta Heaven, we was all goin direct tha other way - up in short, tha period was so far like tha present period, dat a shitload of its noisiest authoritizzles insisted on its bein received, fo' phat or fo' evil, up in tha superlatizzle degree of comparison only.
Sunset found her squattin up in tha grass, groaning. Every stool was looser than tha one before, n' smelled foula n' shit. By tha time tha moon came up dat biiiiatch was shittin brown gin n juice n' shit. Da mo' her dope ass drank, tha mo' her big-ass booty shat yo, but tha mo' her big-ass booty shat, tha thirstier she grew, n' her thirst busted her crawlin ta tha stream ta suck up mo' water.
>>8019852
lmaoooo
>>8019713
Wow it's exactly the same as the original.
>>8019715
Roasties get off my board REEEEEEEEE!!!
Lolita, light of mah game, fire of mah loins. My fuckin sin, mah ass. Lo-lee-ta: tha tip of tha tongue takin a trip of three steps down tha palate ta tap, at three, on tha teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
Bitch was Lo, plain Lo, up in tha morning, standin four feet ten up in one sock. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was Lola up in slacks. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was Dolly at school. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was Dolores on tha dotted line. But up in mah arms dat biiiiatch was always Lolita.
Did dat freaky freaky biatch gotz a precursor, biatch? Biatch did, indeed her dope ass done did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In point of fact, there might done been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a cold-ass lil certain initial girl-child. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In a princedom by tha sea. Oh when, biatch? Bout as nuff muthafuckin years before Lolita started doin thangs as mah age was dat summer n' shit. Yo ass can always count on a murderer fo' a gangbangin' fancy prose style.
Ladies n' gentlemen of tha jury, exhibit number one is what tha fuck tha seraphs, tha misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Look at dis tangle of thorns.
To be, or not ta be - dat is tha question:
Whether ’tis nobla up in tha mind ta suffer
Da slings n' arrowz of outrageous fortune,
Or ta take arms against a sea of shits,
And by opposin end them, biatch? To die, ta chill -
No more; n' by a chill ta say we end
Da heartache n' tha thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir ta - ’tis a cold-ass lil consummation
Devoutly ta be wished: ta die, ta chill.
To chill, perchizzle ta dream fo' realz. Ay, there’s tha rub;
For up in dat chill of dirtnap what tha fuck trips may come,
When our crazy asses have shuffled off dis mortal coil,
Must give our asses pause. There’s tha respect
That make calamitizzle of so long game.
For whoz ass would bear tha whips n' scornz of time,
Da oppressor’s wrong, tha proud as a muthafucka man’s contumely,
Da pangz of disprized love, tha law’s delay,
Da insolence of office, n' tha spurns
That patient merit of tha unworthy takes,
When dat schmoooove muthafucka his dirty ass might his own on tha fuckin' down-lowus make
With a funky-ass bare bodkin, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck would these fardels bear,
To grunt n' sweat under a weary game,
But dat tha dread of suttin' afta dirtnap,
Da undiscovered ghetto, from whose bourn
No travella returns, puzzlez tha will,
And make our asses rather bear dem ills our crazy asses have
Than fly ta others dat we know not of?
Thus conscience do make cowardz of our asses all;
And thus tha natizzle hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er wit tha pale cast of thought,
And enterprisez of pimped out pitch n' moment
With dis regard they currents turn away
And lose tha name of action.
Only tha Jew knew dat by a able n' persistent use of propaganda heaven itself can be presented ta tha playas as if it was hell and, vice versa, da most thugged-out miserable kind of game can be presented as if it was paradise. Da Jew knew dis n' acted accordingly. But tha German, or rather his Government, did not have tha slightest suspicion of dat shit. Durin tha Battle tha heaviest of penaltizzles had ta be paid fo' dat ignorance.
WTF - I put the entirety of the Iliad into that thing, and somehow this came out. o_0
>>8017968
this is some next level shit
My fuckin dope lil whorish Nora I did as you holla'd at me, you dirty lil girl, n' pulled mah dirty ass off twice when I read yo' letter n' shit. I be delighted ta peep dat you do like bein fucked arseways. Yes, now I can remember dat night when I fucked you fo' so long backwards. Dat shiznit was tha dirtiest fuckin I eva gave you, darling. My fuckin prick was stuck up in you fo' hours, fuckin up in n' up under yo' upturned rump. I felt yo' fat sweaty buttocks under mah belly n' saw yo' flushed grill n' mad eyes fo' realz. At every last muthafuckin fuck I gave you yo' shameless tongue came burstin up all up in yo' lips n' if a gave you a funky-ass bigger stronger fuck than usual, fat dirty farts came splutterin outta yo' backside. Yo ass had a arse full of farts dat night, darling, n' I fucked dem outta you, big-ass fat fellows, long windy ones, quick lil merry cracks n' a shitload of tiny lil naughty fartizzles endin up in a long-ass gush from yo' hole. Well shiiiit, it is straight-up dope ta fuck a gangbangin' fartin biatch when every last muthafuckin fuck drives one outta her n' shit. I be thinkin I would know Noraz bust a funky-ass big-ass fart anywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I be thinkin I could pick hers up in a roomful of fartin dem hoes. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Well shiiiit, it aint nuthin but a rather girlish noise not like tha wet windy bust a funky-ass big-ass fart which I imagine fat wives have. Well shiiiit, it is sudden n' dry n' dirty like what tha fuck a funky-ass bold hoe would let off up in funk up in a school dormitory at night. I hope Nora will let off no end of her farts up in mah grill so dat I may know they smell also.
Yo ass say when I go back yo big-ass booty is ghon suck me off n' you want me ta lick yo' playaaaaaa, you lil depraved blackguard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I hope yo big-ass booty is ghon surprise me some time when I be asleep dressed, loot over ta me wit a whorez glow up in yo' slumberous eyes, gently undo button afta button up in tha fly of mah trousers n' gently take up yo' freakz fat mickey, lap it up in yo' moist grill n' suck away at it till it gets fatta n' stiffer n' comes off up in yo' grill. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes too I shall surprise you asleep, lift up yo' skirts n' open yo' drawers gently, then lie down gently by you n' begin ta lick lazily round yo' bush. Yo ass will begin ta stir uneasily then I'ma lick tha lipz of mah darlingz playaaaaaa. Yo ass will begin ta groan n' grunt n' bust a funky-ass big-ass fart n' bust a funky-ass big-ass fart wit lust up in yo' chill. Then I'ma lick up fasta n' fasta like a ravenous dawg until yo' playaaaaaa be a mass of slime n' yo' body wrigglin wildly.
>>8020024
Sounds just like the Lombardo translation, yo.
>>8017968
>Be stand up in her way up in Wardine grill n' he aint let her pass without he all tha time touchin her n' shit.
Did this even make sense before it was put through the translator?
>>8020036
well played
>>8019734
>it make me wanna hollar playa!
>IT MAKE ME WANNA HOLLAR PLAYA!
I think Merasault was really happy his mama died.
compiling all these and writing the next great Faulkner novel.
A beatboxin comes across tha sky. Well shiiiit, it has happened before yo, but there aint a god damn thang ta compare it ta now, nahmeean?
It be too late. Da Evacuation still proceedz yo, but itz all theatre. There is no lights inside tha cars. No light anywhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho fo' realz. Above his ass lift girdaz oldschool as a iron biatch, n' glass somewhere far above dat would let tha light of dizzle all up in cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. But itz night. Dat punk afraid of tha way tha glass will fall-soon-it is ghon be a spectacle: tha fall of a cold-ass lil crystal palace. But comin down up in total blackout, without one glint of light, only pimped out invisible crashing.
Inside tha carriage, which is built on nuff muthafuckin levels, da perved-out muthafucka sits up in velveteen darkness, wit not a god damn thang ta smoke, feelin metal nearer n' farther rub n' connect, steam escapin up in puffs, a vibration up in tha carriagez frame, a poising, a uneasiness, all tha others pressed up in around, feeble ones, second sheep, all outta luck n' time
>>8020506
>A beatboxin comes across tha sky.
kek
>>8020036
You fucking genius
>>8017968
came here for this
Somerset Maugham's The Moon and Sixpence
I confess dat when first I made acquaintizzle wit Charlez Strickland I never fo' a moment discerned dat there was up in his ass anythang outta tha ordinary. Yet now few is ghon be found ta deny his wild lil' freakadelic pimped outness. I do not drop a rhyme of dat pimped outnizz which be bigged up by tha fortunate sucka or tha successful soldier; dat be a qualitizzle which belongs ta tha place he occupies rather than ta tha man; n' a cold-ass lil chizzle of circumstances reduces it ta straight-up discreet proportions. Da Prime Minista outta crib is seen, too often, ta done been but a pompous rhetorician, n' tha General without a army is but tha tame pimp of a market town. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da pimped outnizz of Charlez Strickland was authentic. Well shiiiit, it may be dat you do not like his thugged-out art yo, but at all events you can hardly refuse it tha tribute of yo' interest yo. Dude disturbs n' arrests, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Da time has passed when da thug was a object of ridicule, n' it is no longer a mark of eccentricitizzle ta defend or of perversitizzle ta extol his muthafuckin ass yo. His faults is accepted as tha necessary complement ta his crazy-ass merits, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Well shiiiit, it is still possible ta say shit bout his thugged-out lil' place up in art, n' tha adulation of his thugged-out admirers is like no less capricious than tha disparagement of his fuckin lil' detractors; but one thang can never be doubtful, n' dat is dat dat schmoooove muthafucka had smart-ass . To mah mind da most thugged-out bangin-ass thang up in art is tha personalitizzle of tha artist; n' if dat is singular, I be willin ta excuse a thousand faults, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. I suppose Velasquez was a funky-ass betta painta than El Greco yo, but custom stalez onez admiration fo' him: tha Cretan, sensual n' tragic, proffers tha mystery of his thugged-out ass like a standin sacrifice. Da artist, painter, poet, or musical muthafucka, by his fuckin lil' decoration, sublime or dope, satisfies tha aesthetic sense; but dat be akin ta tha horny-ass instinct, n' shares its barbarity: he lays before you also tha pimped outa gift of his dirty ass. To pursue his secret has suttin' of tha fascination of a thugged-out detectizzle story. Well shiiiit, it aint nuthin but a riddle which shares wit tha universe tha merit of havin no answer n' shit. Da most insignificant of Stricklandz works suggests a personalitizzle which is strange, tormented, n' complex; n' it is dis surely which prevents even dem playas whoz ass do not like his thugged-out lil' pictures from bein indifferent ta them; it is dis which has buckwild so curious a interest up in his wild lil' freakadelic game n' character.
IN THE week before they departure ta Arrakis, when all tha final scurryin bout had reached a nearly unbearable frenzy, a oldschool crone came ta git on over ta tha mutha of tha boy, Paul. Dat shiznit was a warm night at Castle Caladan, n' tha ancient pile of stone dat had served tha Atreides crew as home fo' twenty-six generations bore dat cooled-sweat feelin it acquired before a cold-ass lil chizzle up in tha drizzle n' shit. Da oldschool biatch was let up in by tha side door down tha vaulted passage by Paul’s room n' dat biiiiatch was allowed a moment ta peer up in at his ass where he lay up in his bed
>>8017904
When Zarathustra was thirty muthafuckin years old, he left his home n' tha lake of his home, n' went tha fuck into tha mountains. There he enjoyed his spirit n' solitude, n' fo' ten muthafuckin years did not weary of dat shit. But at last his thugged-out ass chizzled,-and risin one mornin wit tha rosy dawn, da thug went before tha sun, n' spake thus unto it:
Thou pimped out star playa! What would be thy happinizz if thou hadst not dem fo' whom thou shinest!
For ten muthafuckin years hast thou climbed hither unto mah cave: thou wouldst have wearied of thy light n' of tha journey, had it not been fo' me, mine eagle, n' mah serpent.
But we awaited thee every last muthafuckin morning, took from thee thine overflow n' pimped thee fo' dat shit.
Lo! I be weary of mah wisdom, like tha bee dat hath gathered too much honey; I need handz outstretched ta take dat shit.
I would fain bestow n' distribute, until tha wise have once mo' become joyous up in they folly, n' tha skanky aiiight up in they riches.
Therefore must I descend tha fuck into tha deep: as thou dot up in tha evening, when thou goest behind tha sea, n' givest light also ta tha nether-world, thou exuberant star!
Like thee must I GO DOWN, as pimps say, ta whom I shall descend.
Bless me, then, thou tranquil eye, dat canst behold even tha top billin happinizz without envy!
Bless tha cup dat be bout ta overflow, dat tha wata may flow golden outta it, n' carry everywhere tha reflection of thy bliss!
Lo! This cup be again n' again n' again goin ta empty itself, n' Zarathustra be again n' again n' again goin ta be a man.
Thus fuckin started Zarathustraz down-going.This is the first time I looked up an english translation. It's actually massively disappointing, to the point where this isn't much worse tbqh.
Call me Ishmael. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some muthafuckin years ago- never mind how tha fuck long precisely- havin lil or no scrilla up in mah purse, n' not a god damn thang particular ta interest me on shore, I thought I would sail on some lil n' peep tha watery part of tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well shiiiit, it aint nuthin but a way I have of rollin off tha spleen n' regulatin tha circulation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Whenever I find mah dirty ass growin grim bout tha grill; whenever it aint nuthin but a thugged-out damp, drizzly November up in mah soul; whenever I find mah dirty ass involuntarily pausin before coffin warehouses, n' brangin up tha rear of every last muthafuckin funeral I meet; n' especially whenever mah hypos git such a upper hand of me, dat it requires a phat moral principle ta prevent me from deliberately steppin tha fuck into tha street, n' methodically knockin people’s basebizzle caps off- then, I account it high time ta git ta sea as soon as I can. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This is mah substitute fo' pistol n' bizzle. Kick dat shit! With a philosophical flourish Cato throws his dirty ass upon his sword; I on tha fuckin' down-lowly take ta tha ship. There aint a god damn thang surprisin up in all dis bullshit. If they but knew it, almost all pimps up in they degree, some time or other, cherish straight-up nearly tha same vibe towardz tha ocean wit mah dirty ass.
>>8020036
>big-ass fat fellows, long windy ones, quick lil merry cracks n' a shitload of tiny lil naughty fartizzles endin up in a long-ass gush from yo' hole
fucking BARS bruh
>>8021037
much stronger start imho
In tha beginnin Dogg pimped tha heavens n' tha earth. 2 Now tha earth was formless n' empty, darknizz was over tha surface of tha deep, n' tha Spirit of Dogg was hoverin over tha waters.
3 And Dogg holla'd, "Let there be light," n' boo-ya.. there was a shitload of weed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! 4 Dogg smelled dat tha chronic was good, n' da perved-out muthafucka separated tha light from tha darkness. 5 Dogg called tha light "day," n' tha darknizz his schmoooove ass called "night." And there was evening, n' there was morning-the first day.
6 And Dogg holla'd, "Let there be a vault between tha watas ta separate wata from water." 7 So Dogg made tha vault n' separated tha wata under tha vault from tha wata above it fo' realz. And dat shiznit was so. 8 Dogg called tha vault "sky." And there was evening, n' there was morning-the second day.
9 And Dogg holla'd, "Let tha wata under tha sky be gathered ta one place, n' let dry ground appear." And dat shiznit was so. 10 Dogg called tha dry ground "land," n' tha gathered watas his schmoooove ass called "seas." And Dogg saw dat dat shiznit was good.
Last paragraph rather than the first page but I couldn't not:
A few light taps upon tha pane made his ass turn ta tha window. Well shiiiit, it had begun ta snow again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude peeped chillily tha flakes, silver n' dark, fallin obliquely against tha lamplight. Da time had come fo' his ass ta set up on his cold-ass trip westsideward. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Yes, tha newspapers was right: snow was general all over Ireland. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dat shiznit was fallin on every last muthafuckin part of tha dark central plain, on tha treeless hills, on tha Bog of Allen and, farther westsideward, softly fallin tha fuck into tha dark mutinous Shannon waves. Dat shiznit was falling, too, upon every last muthafuckin part of tha lonely churchyard on tha hill where Mike Furey lay buried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Well shiiiit, it lay thickly drifted on tha crooked crosses n' headstones, on tha spearz of tha lil gate, on tha barren thorns yo. His ass swooned slowly as dat schmoooove muthafucka heard tha snow fallin faintly all up in tha universe n' faintly falling, like tha descent of they last end, upon all tha livin n' tha dead as fuckin fried chicken.
>>8017992
Best one so far.
"For madmen only"
Once there was a playa whoz ass went by tha name of Harry, n' was called tha Steppenwolf yo. Dude strutted on two legs, wore threadz n' was a thugged-out dude yo, but all up in tha same time da thug was straight-up a Steppenwolf yo. Dude had hustled a shitload of what tha fuck playas capable of understandin can learn, n' was a reasonably smart-ass man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But what tha fuck dat schmoooove muthafucka had not hustled was this: how tha fuck ta be content wit his dirty ass n' his wild lil' freakadelic game. This his schmoooove ass could not do, fo' da thug was a gangbangin' finger-lickin' discontented man. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What was most probable was he knew (or believed he knew) at all times up in tha depthz of his thugged-out ass, dat he straight-up was not a thugged-out dude yo, but a wolf of tha steppes. There may be smart-ass playas whoz ass would dispute whether he straight-up was a wolf, or whether once, like even before his birth, da thug was conjured up as a wolf inside a thugged-out dude, or whether da thug started doin thangs a thugged-out dude yo, but gifted with, n' possessed of tha ass of a wolf, or whether dis belief dat da thug was a wolf was simply a illusion or a sickness. For example, it might be possible dat dis thug had been wild n' unruly n' disorderly up in his childhood, dat his cold-ass mackdaddy had tried ta brang bout tha dirtnap of tha beast inside him, n' thereby show his ass directly all up in imagination n' belief dat da thug was indeed a funky-ass beast wit only a thin veneer of ejaculation n' mannishnizz yo. Dude might rap long n' engagingly bout dis n' even write a funky-ass book bout it yo, but da thug would not be well served by it, fo' dat schmoooove muthafucka had no preference whether tha wolf inside his ass was bewitched, or belaboured, or only a illusion of his thugged-out ass. What others might think, n' what tha fuck dat schmoooove muthafucka his dirty ass might think, waz of no value ta him, n' also would not take tha wolf outta his muthafuckin ass.
