Grammaphalamapittynagaphentrantulate

yo yo yo
rock hard rhymes like my dick when i see leeann rhymes (not really)
bells ringing, chingaling chimes, nickles and dimes, nick does slimes
frank grimes, or "Grimey"
ill to the bone marrow, you walking weak looking sick
thugs haven't seen me, the true OG work his narcotic magic
Shoot bitches in the head when im shorted
money money too much money to even sort it
the flow is deep im walking on sunshine
smoking, roaching, bliztin', blazen, o graising weed is not a crime
get on the floor to bump and grind
50-50 360 kickflip out, down a 10 foot drop has gotten me front page of thrasher magazine for the third time
im out with that rhyme, and into a new suit
its that spade; new suede, same zoot
raw raw rabble. grapple up that mountain to get that forbidden apple
snapple is like 15% juice, got me asking, "unhealthy?"
yes.
you got me humming like a bird, its that spoken word soul
huntron got the tip on making that shit turn gold
not green like mold get you sick,
like malaria from that deer tick
sneer and peer at everyone who looks hard
you soft mother fucker, look, you melting like lard
fool, make an example of lame rappers like a text book
professor smack handles the whack like hes black
which he's not. he takes you to school, and eats you like a snack
wrappers pollute. pick up your trash and recycle. ride a bike.
think globally act locally, its that simple
you think that your dimples can be fed like dumplings
or noodles, oodles many more than the companies.

"what is this mother fucker even rapping about anyways?"
"yeah, yeah.."
"he's been rapping this same goddam way for like twenty minutes"
"yaaap."


Theres my font.

jaded, half faded and hand headed
took off in the alley and peeled out the banana skid in the cul de sac
gladys the crazy cat lady stoops it up after she had took a nap
kids doing homework in their studies, all square like
learning there ain't no squares in nature, dyke

god i hate you, facebook apps.

suck on that, facebook apps.

Mark Ritsema

okay marky mark have it your way.
forget Estrada, and remember Mark Ritsema, address 2203 garfield avenue, 55409, mpls, mn.
(1988-2008)

Mark was born in Orange City Iowa on June something 1988, to mother (name) and father (forgot his too).
Mark was not an only child, he was the "runt" being second born, to much attentioned brother Davis Ritsema.
Mark grew up a happy child, even making it to the cover of Minnesota Parent when he was 7. he enjoyed going to glen mason basketball camps, and skateboarding.
Mark went to Fulton elementary, later to be named Lake Harriet Community School. the mascot is a dragon. He was involved in the social climate, and was well liked by his peers. Once, Mark was skateboarding and, well, he just threw up a little bit. just a little.
Mark had a good childhood, with good friends, and influential music, like CSN, and Magnetic Fields. but in 10th grade, things took a turn for the worst, and started a downward spiral into sorrow and darkness, because of the shame he had for being in the shadow of Davis' fame coming from the success of the pop-punk band Scholar's Dispute.
Mark has since longed for fame, and leads a staggered lifestyle of drinking and listening to Feist heavily. The ups are unreal and the downs are too real... I just... i just can't focus. my mind... it's like a kaleidescope, twisting, so many colours turning and growing i can't see anything else. yes!
yes! i need this, "I have so much present inside my present
Inside my present and so
So much past inside my present
Inside my present inside my present"

mark died of voyeurism to the head, when perverts were looking into his window on april 23rd 2008

erik estrada

once i google more of this guy, i will destroy him. Emotionally. Erik, you goin' downn buddy, next week on SMACKDOWN!!!

tips for living the dream

i would like to let you all know an insiders view of running a successful bar, therefore ejaculating in miss america's spread eagle, making one look as this ;-)
rule # 1 is the most important rule for making the wet dream happen: sell out. you must sell out, and become a very sad, lonely human profiting on alcoholics and gambling addicts alike. Your ego must be protected like a fortress, letting no trojan horse into your vagina.


gamblers need entertainment. many gamblers are scoozeballs, and like to finger workers publicly for a ticket. this worker must be willing to be fingered. (very important)

--Come on now ed, you're taking this too far. bars do not perpetuate abuse of the body, i mean i've never seen this happen in the bar i'm at, and it's absurd to think it happens. would you tone down the exaggerations?

NO. Bars are ment for the abusive. they are meant for lonely souls to finger and be fingered publicly. the drunken people of america need a place where rubbing middle aged women is accepted. enough said.

Rule #2 goes along with the thesis of selling-out. sell out. sell out the best way possible, and put beer advertisements in every nook and cranny visible. this will grant you free tables, barstools, coasters, and signs advertising the slutty middle-aged meat raffle woman.

Rule #3 free entertainment. no matter the quality, just let it be free.

Ed, don't you work for a bar, and don't you get paid a lot of money?

yeah....

So, you're pretty much shooting yourself in the foot right here, aren't you? i mean, talking bad about bars and all that? what's your logic.

god dammit, you fucking idiot. making me explain myself all the time. i really hate that side of you, Wade. my logic is that i'm telling someone looking to open up a bar the prime things that you need to do. talking down to it is putting it into a context in which idiots can see. selling out= living the american dream. If you want to become a rich american, i'm telling you how you can do it.

so get out there kids, and knock america up with semen, and out will come money--like an ATM.

rancid stomach burns gum.

baseball season is here!

isn't baseball sweet?

hipsters!

i love hipsters.

(BTW, regardless if you luv hipsters or not, i've enabled comments to be public so anyone can comment!)

here comes the blithering idiot

blast off to the planet mars/ edharringtonn smacks the bars
Clamp the shanty lamp/ air the heightly ramp/ shine above the blimp/ SKY PIMP! SKY PIMP!
rats wrap cats with snacks / wheeze holds down these tracks
maps aired satellite pictures of west villiage/ greenwich hitting up alternative new age
nuances bounce roll and wither/ when you hear my shiny rhymes you come hither
Blithering idiot spitting gold from my mouf/ Like ludacris punchin yo lights out
kickin it old school like vans/ off the wall into a trance
hacking and cackling comes with dank/ girls watch out, cuz i like to spank
they call me Corporal Punishment/ bitchasses give shit up for lent
watch me, all my money spent/ watch me, im hoppin rent

smack intamately,
ed harrington