OOOHH HELL NAW! i got to :39 and had to cut that shih off before i had a fit! bitch doesnt even hav her own hits to sing, she gotta steal her lil bro's songs. why was she adjusting the dam mic herself from the begining? u knew it was gonna be downhill from there...
and she has the stage presence of a single-celled organism....
Coco, in his own words:
1) If I die before my time, it won't be from drankin', but from runnin' around lookin' for something to drank!
2) I would say that works sucks, but sucking is good sometimes.
3) Don't make me take off my airrangs and high heals!
4) My love for Paul Wall knows no bounds!
5) I hate you with the fiery passion of ten million suns.
6) Meryl Streep doesn't have the range to play La Coco.
7) Actually, I like you a lot less than I let on.
8) You'll never see me eating flaccid French fries!
9) As far as I am concerned, I hope that fat nasty bitch is on a slow boat straight to Hell.
10) But I'm Filipino!
2 comments:
OOOHH HELL NAW! i got to :39 and had to cut that shih off before i had a fit!
bitch doesnt even hav her own hits to sing, she gotta steal her lil bro's songs.
why was she adjusting the dam mic herself from the begining? u knew it was gonna be downhill from there...
and she has the stage presence of a single-celled organism....
The Bight
At low tide like this how sheer the water is.
White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare
and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches,
Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,
the water in the bight doesn't wet anything,
the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.
One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.
The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock
already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.
The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash
into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard.
it seems to me, like pickaxes,
rarely coming up with anything to show for it,
and going off with humorous elbowings,
Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar
on impalpable drafts
and open their tails like scissors on the curves
or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble.
The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in
with the obliging air of retrievers,
bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks
and decorated with bobbles of sponges.
There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock
where, glinting like little plowshares,
the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry
for the Chinese-restaurant trade.
Some of the little white boats are still piled up
against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in,
and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm.
like torn-open, unanswered letters.
the bight is littered with old correspondences.
Click. Click. Goes the dredge,
and brings up a dripping jawful of marl.
All the untidy activity continues,
awful but cheerful.
----- by cheap runescape gold
Post a Comment