Gag on this

My afternoon reverie was interrupted by hot hot vixen with a foreign accent. No, Erique, yours isn’t a foreign accent. I’m not saying it’s a local accent, I am just saying it isn’t foreign.

HOT HOT VIXEN: Papi Sleek, have you been to sidestreeter?

EVEN HOTTER SLEEK: You mean Streetsider? No, I usually prefer to read stuff that won’t kill my brain cells. Why?

HOT HOT VIXEN: I was there. Papi, he be feasing on you.

EVEN HOTTER SLEEK: You mean he is dissing me. No problem, I’ll deal with him…now come here…

(And I proceed to give her lessons…in English. She’s a retired mode from Puerto Rica, trying to make a living doing OMO commercials.)

Later that day, on stage in front of a mammoth crowd, having finished performing ‘I love you Grandma’, I decide to throw some freestyle for the Streetsider. Btw, weaksider took a stab at me here. Click it.

(DJ scratching…groovy African beat)

Streetsider the doctor was so shocked,

when you first dropped,

He slapped your face, not your butt,

You are really outta your depth,

Life acting telenovella’s wasn’t paying enough,

So you took to chilling with your right hand and ‘being happy’,

Did you pee in your trousers again?,

Don’t come out without your diapers man,

It’s like you are 11 month’s pregnant, your stuff’s past due,

Crazy thing is you don’t have a clue,

We ain’t laughing witchu, we laughing at you,

antidisestablishmentarianism, Floccinaucinihilipilification, a map of Bundibudgyo and three onions tattooed on it?

Well if that’s what gets ‘it’ up then by all means,

Hang onto your wig buddy,

They may come back in fashion,

We gave you the whispers,

And your mind drew blanks,

So you worked yourself into a ‘right-hand frenzy’,

Word has it Nakku writes the posts,

And she was tired of the streets so she quit,

She said that when you applied for the ugly contest they told you ‘NO Professionals’.