nanashi

Look what I discovered this morning while showering!

Lalala

Now I definitely have to do this again.

B was never in the same class as me, not in elementary school and certainly not in gymnasium, when we went to different schools. The closest friend I found at my new school, M, was living too far away for me to hang out with him all the time but all the kids from our class went to the same parties of course and there were still opportunities to meet outside of school.

M’s first girlfriend was quite a bit older than us and she had a cool accessory, a character from a popular German children’s book. Actually it wasn’t really a character but a toy modeled after a duck, with a tiger pattern, that was treated by its owner in the book like a living being and good friend. She had a small replica of that duck attached to her backpack and M and I imitated that and attached one to our shirts or sweaters. I remember wearing it from my scarves for many years, long after M had given up on this habit.

T wasn’t exactly a big fan of it and when I argued that it was really original and individual and that not many people wore something like this she countered that she did in fact knew some people who were even dragging it behind them all the time, with the attached cord, like the toy it’s supposed to be. She was of course kidding and implying that I was such a baby for wearing that toy.

T and M also met at some of our parties and at one of the local swimming pools in summer, for example. I didn’t go to the pool very often for which there were several reasons but once the three of us went together. I didn’t properly learn to swim until very late which is why I never really swam but only floated where it wasn’t that deep and I also had an aversion against jumping into the water.

The two of them tried to convince me to try it and the only way to get them off my case was to crack a joke which is really hard to translate though. I said, “das springt mir nichts” which you intuitively take to mean “das bringt mir nichts”/”I don’t get anything out of it” but since the word corresponding to “get” is replaced by “jump” it was a clever way of saying “I don’t get anything out of jumping”. It’s really not funny when you have to explain it but T and M laughed and stopped trying to talk me into it. My funny got me out of being pressured to do something I didn’t want to do.

Don’t you love cliffhangers? Can’t wait to read/watch the next episode. But what if for some reason you never get to see/read the next episode? What if someone brought you the first one but the second one is nowhere to be found?

That really sucks, let me tell you. It happened several times to me in my childhood. One of these cliffhanger stories where I never got to read the continuation and that I could never forget was an Uncle Scrooge story where he was looking for Circe’s treasure. Magica De Spell had turned Huey, Dewey and Louie into pigs on the last page of the episode and I was forever denied of the closure of them getting turned back.

Of course, these stories always end in everything restored to how it began. Of course I had read so many stories where the triplets weren’t pigs so it was safe to assume that they would be restored to their former selfs in the end. But it still bothers you not to know how the story ends.

Actually, even in the Duckburg stories I did get to read completely I was always bothered by the ducks, especially the triplets, getting caught and tied up, imprisoned and stuff. I always invented a hero that would save them on the spot which of course ended all those stories prematurely. As I grew older I understood that I was taking out the best part of the story and that these thrilling situations were in fact necessary for the stories to create their impact.

I understood that a story is not real and that whatever happens in it does not affect me as a person in real life. That’s when I began to enjoy these stories, which when I was younger I often switched off the TV because I didn’t trust the fearful situations to be resolved by happy ends. It’s funny, I craved for closure for the Oddball Odyssey story in which the triplets where transformed into pigs but I denied myself the happy ends in TV series because I never believed they would come.

Until I mastered this awesome technique, differentiating between fiction and reality. Really, I recommend it to everyone. Fiction becomes a safe haven, where everythings is possible but nothing can ever hurt you. Maybe it’s a bit too safe though.

When reality was stolen from me and stories invaded it, treacherous at heart though, dirty traps that waited for me to lose grasp on my special ability, being able to distinuish between fiction and reality, those storyweavers, they tried to force their image of me on me, proving that I in fact could not differentiate, that instead of analyzing the images in stories as products of reality, I was confusing story and reality, well that ended in me being imprisoned like the triplets in my childhood stories. But my imaginary hero never came. Retroactively I became Seta Soujirou, the character I had felt moe for years before. Well, my hero didn’t come that other time either, when I was death years old. So it wasn’t retroactive but a remake maybe.

Remember the truth or bare post? I once played a board game with the same girl and boy (let’s call them by their names’ initials, T and B) from that post, at his house. I kept throwing the die into the neckline of her t-shirt. Which wasn’t the point of the game of course but still lots of fun and I think she felt the same way as she giggled each time the die found its way down her shirt. I usually don’t aim well when I throw stuff, I also sucked at most ball games in school for that reason, but I hit it that day perfectly twice at least.

Like I said before there was a lot of sexual tension between her and me for which the above episode is just one more example of but she did envy the intimacy of the male friendship I shared with B. I don’t remember exactly what it even was, but when I refused to tell her something I wanted to keep secret from her but revealed that B knew what it was about she insisted she would be able to get it out of him. I was sitting next to her on the bus like always and she was going to meet him at school later that day.

After school was out that day she had to admit that “I had ‘trained’ (an alternative translation might be ‘raised’ but I think ‘trained’ is closer to her intended meaning) him very well” as he wouldn’t budge in keeping the secret. I explained that it had nothing to do with training but that it was pretty much normal that we as boys kept each other’s secrets.

I went to a different school but we still met a lot after school and at parties. I always hung out with her and some of my classmates who lived in the same neighboring village as her and I was already very nerdy then, but not yet combined with the confidence I have today. Basically my attempts to be cool always ended in total disasters and she had issues with some of my style choices as well but we got along more than well and the relationship should easily have gone to the next level if had had the courage to take the next step.

This lack of courage had something to do with me proclaiming that I’d “never hit girls” but still hitting my younger sister when she annoyed me which T appropriately called me a hypocrite for. It also had something to do with me liking the French movie The War of the Buttons from 1962 and imitating one of two important concepts from that movie, playful war, when I was still in elementary school, before I became friends with either B or T. Unlike the movie it wasn’t one gang of mostly boys against another gang of mostly boys but a gang of all boys who all tried to steal kisses from the girls of our class. I was the leader and founder of a sexual assault unit made up of 2nd graders. Our girl victims (unknowingly) imitated the other important concept of the movie, utilizing grown ups to punish the other side. They didn’t even have to cut off any buttons but had our teacher castrate us instead and put an end to a game that was ill conceived in the first place.

Not being able to admit to what I had done I couldn’t let the teacher’s claim of us “trying to make advances on our female classmates” stand as they were and had to prove that the kisses were nothing but a weapon and not an expression of affection at all. This was the beginning of me becoming a hopeless clown throwing kisses around from which I only barely recovered when I got the chance to start over advancing to gymnasium, a new school with a new class and mostly new classmates. In the meanwhile I became friends with B in 3rd grade from another class who entertained himself with healthier games, acting as the characters from Masters of the Universe during the breaks inbetween classes.

In gymnasium I again imitated a French movie, this time La Boum, and kicked off the age of teen parties in my circle of friends. I wasn’t as uncool anymore as in elementary school but still haunted by the fear of being uncool and denial was my main defense against all the pitfalls caused by my own clumsiness. One was literally a hole in the ground into which I rode my newly bought mountain bike (which were all the rage at the time). This was when I learned that following peer pressure did not really pay off.

Sex was my best weapon in the race for coolness because my mind was definitely dirtier than anyone else’s and my drive to establish parties gained me cool points with my friends. T was one the few who was never intimidated by my sexual bragging but she was soon to be disappointed, as my boldness was betrayed by my inhibitions. Inhibitions born from me always going overboard and getting my fingers burned repeatedly in the process.

The day after one particular party T wanted to continue partying with a smaller number of friends the next day. I had of course enjoyed the party but ‘autistic’ as I was I came up with stupid reasons why I couldn’t come that day, like having to take my sunday shower. She was really mad and asked me why I couldn’t skip my masturbation (I was pretty open about my habits in that regard) to come to party some more at her place. I was so stupid.

I kept using symbolism to further our relationship like sending her a letter that had the stamps angled in a certain way which had a hidden meaning. She replied in kind by sending me a letter written in a code I had to decipher. It was very funny and we were meant for each other but I had formed very strong inhibitions by then which always kicked in when I approached a certain line that when crossed had ended in disaster before.

My present for her (I think it was her) 15th birthday was a sexual education book and even though she had ridiculed me weeks before for “waiting for love to come seek me” instead of the other way round (which of our friends only B found a reasonable idea to have) she took the initiative and put the pressure on me to give up my refusal to dance, which I usually considered myself to be too cool for, and dance with her to a slow song. You know, the kind of dance they always did in the La Boum movie, hugging and slowly turning, enjoying the intimacy of touching each other’s body. Afterward she commented I had gotten her dizzy by moving too fast. I was supernervous and neither of us could really enjoy it.

I ended up not being T’s first boyfriend. Instead that was someone from my class, also taking the same bus as us. I ended up not being her second boyfriend either. She wasn’t going to wait for me, because as she said, the dirty books I lent her (compared to which the education book I gave her for her birthday was a harmless joke) were never followed up by appropriate action.

Earlier, at one of my birthday parties she had spilt a drink over her t-shirt and asked me if I could lend her one of mine. It wasn’t the first time she came to my room of course but maybe the first time we were there just the two of us, and then she was alone in it as I let her change her shirt. I didn’t think much of it then and I’m probably thinking too much of it now. The t-shirt, btw, was one of my old ones and already too small, even for T.

At one of B’s birthday parties T suddenly had the need for something she hadn’t thought of bringing to the party. B’s mother was kind enough to lend her some of hers though.

While in elementary school I was a frequent target of bullying but in gymnasium I was smart enough to become friends with the bullies. One time I argued that (on a subjective level) not all people are equal in ‘worth’ but that we value people we like more than those we don’t even know or those do know but don’t like. It was just supposed to be an argument in favor of subjective reality versus idealistic theory but nevertheless a very dangerous idea to have, on a rhetorical level. Especially since the reason I raised this subject was a guy who was frequently verbally abused for his overweightness by almost everybody and T got very angry at me for my lack of idealism and for providing fuelwood to a flame not quite extinguished. I didn’t think much of it then but now I think there was a deeper meaning to her strong reaction.

This post has gotten much too long already, and I should probably have cut it short before it became convoluted so badly. It could have become several posts instead of just this one but I wanted to summarize as many things as possible about T, the girl that should have become my first girlfriend. I often asked myself how my life would have been different if I had asked her to go steady then and hadn’t let this opportunity go by.

It was the major turning point of my life and I’m still spinning even today.

yesterday I set the challenge level too high. And ended up escaping, as always. Then I spent the evening doing meaningless things instead of what I had rather done.

When I was going to end the day with my usual routine it didn’t feel right anymore. Maybe some pent up energy will help me next challenge. It will be a modest one.

My sent folder, it goes back to 1998. When I recently browsed through it to check the oldest mail I had sent to someone other than myself I ended up first reading the numerous mails written to a certain troll friend who I fed too much of the wrong food. But he never seemed to get fed up enough to stop trolling me back.

Even though I consider myself a better cook today I still approved of my general approach and thought, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It confirmed my ideas, which while more developed, are still the same today. And I still think he’s to blame, not me.

We might, if you’d try a more direct approach.

Also, one of my mails in particular reminded me of a certain online crush. I had started to sound just like her. Seriously, when I reread that mail I thought she could have written it. I must have had drawn from her magic.

When Vanilla at work was baiting me to swing my ban hammer at her cheeky pirate ass I felt an aggro fist fuck brewing. When small girls started growing an emancipated black vagina her fist entered me fiercely.

My first online crush had never answered my oldest mail sent to the outside. I understood that my invading her unlinked pages had crept her out and I thought I must give her a chance to get to know me better, so maybe she would give me chance. I gave up lurking and displayed my usual ethic troll behavior.

If the mountain won’t come to the troll, the troll must go to the mountain.

It must have made quite an impression even though it was frustrating and made me quit AGFF altogether.

I always thought Mack Daddy had come to get revenge for her slain pal but since the retarded detectives keep accusing me of having more than one active handle on the same forum I also started to entertain the thought the mountain might have been the slut’s alt. I guess if I really were a slayer I would know for sure. But my better guess is your moe mojo is as strong as mine.

You can be my Ranma, too. Ramming it you will, for sure.

I’m not a slayer but a player. A super player. AGFF was advertised at Vestal’s site, the first net celeb I retroactively became a borderline stalker of, as he kept involving himself in websites worth reading. Vestal’s site was advertised in a certain British games mag. Another red shell itching to be let loose.

YOU

4 I (h)F yet 2 C.

New favorite German word?

• Gebärfreudiges Becken
• Samenraub
• DINKs (not really a German word but it should be)
• Vögelchen

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I miss the times when children where writing porn…

Animeg3282 wrote:

Ranma woke up. The sun was in his eyes. He smiled. Today was his birthday!
He jumped out of bed and went into the bathroom. He opened the door. There
sitting in the bathtub was Akane. “HEY! You jerk!!! Close the darn door!” she
said.

Ranma said “Why would I be looking at you anyway! You’re flat!” Akane said
“Shove it!” Ranma closed the door. Akane sure could be a pain at times. He went
to the other bathroom and started his shower. When he finally came out of the
shower and into the kicthken Kasumi said “Oh my! It’s your birthday isn’t it?”
“Yea” said Ranma.

Kasumi said “I’ve fixed a feast! We’ll have it later today! Also,Ranma some
young ladies have showed up and say they’ll give you a SPECIAL birthday
present!” Ranma walked towards the door. Ukyo and Shampoo were standing there
in their skimpest,laciest clothes fighting. Ukyo said “I’m better in bed than
you!!” Shapo siad”You rely on toy! Shampoo REAL woman” Ranma said “Stop it
chicks.”    Akane ran down the stairs mallet in hand and hit both Uyko and
Shampoo. “He’s not interested in any of YOU!” Ukyo said “Well,he’s not
interesting a flat chested uncute little $^& like YOU either!” Shampoo said
“Shampoo REAL woman!!” Ranma said ‘Whatever and turned away” Akane said “I’m
your REAL fiancee! I SHOULD have sex with you!!” Ukyo said “I’m your fiance and
I’m MUCH cuter than YOU!” Shampoo said “Shampoo REAL woman!” Ranma said”The old
man would get pissed if I slept with anyone except Akane. Sorry,gals” Akane
hugged Ranma and they went up to his room. Ranma siad “You may be my real
fiancee but you probaly can’t suck dick worth a CRAP” Akane said “OH yes I
CAN!” and pulled Ranma’s pants down. She started licking his dick slowly and
then started to suck. “Oh GOD Akane! You CAN suck dick!!” Nabiki siad “How many
yen WILL people pay for this?” “NABIKI!!!” they both said and Akane stopped
sucking Ranma’s dick long enough to hit her sister over the head with a mallet.

Small Girl

Co-defender of the Scouts

One of the defenders of AOL and Relm

AGFF Goddess and Guru of Cute

Official AGFF Diminutive Mistress of Leather and Lace

15 Grammer points

SM Dub immune!

Early adulthood has made her a crusading moe monster. Which I created. By adding so many corpses to the zombie cutie army.

Originally not posted on 8th of March (of the Minis).

During my stay in Kyoto I went to several matsuri with a woman I had met at the local Goethe institute. They organised regular meetings for their German learners with native speakers and she had asked me if I would be interested to go to some of the local festivals with her.

Anyway, one of the nighttime festivals involved some walking up to the premises where the ceremony was held and we overheard a Korean woman walking in front of us talking to her friend in her native language. I commented to my friend that I liked how Korean woman talk and that it always sounds as if they’re complaining about something. I think she heard us too since she turned around to look at me, with a puzzled look on her face. Although I might be making that last part up as it was really to dark to tell for sure. I already thought so back in Kyoto. I have a clear recollection of me doubting my recollection then.

Anyway, when I had just come to Japan some fellow exchange students from Korea taught me how to eat with chopsticks. I had bought some instant ramen type food and had trouble eating it. The other students saw me and explained to me how to use them properly. I was very relieved because I already had some troubles managing those sticks in the university cafeteria at lunch time.

Actually that wasn’t the first time I had someone explain the use of chopsticks to me but the first time I gave up because it seemed easier to eat with my fingers then. That was at our university’s bounenkai where among other food we ate some karaage which then were just chicken wings to me (even though they’re not really wings but they looked like that on first impression). So some of the credit goes to the female student who had started studying Japanese in the same semester as me and tried to teach me how to properly eat Japanese food when I wasn’t yet feeling the necessity to seriously give it a try.

I master things pretty quickly but it’s usually the second or third attempt after several half assed ones. My Japanese friends were seemingly impressed by how quickly I had learned to use those sticks but maybe they were just being polite, paying compliments. I myself was/am not polite so wouldn’t have been able to tell even if I had tried, I guess. Instead I tried to resist stereotyping but I guess I was hyper correcting the prejudices of my own culture.

The Korean exchange students got increasingly pissed off at me though for me never returning the favor of showing considerateness. When I brought a scissor to the common room kitchen the one who taught me how to use chopsticks expressed his anger by asking me if i was going to use it for cutting the noodles short implying I still had trouble with Asian cuisine. I laughed and commented on his remark being “a good one”. That helped them figure me out much faster than any of the other nationality students did especially the European and other Western country ones.

When I started spending time in the common living room many interpreted that as my initial reservedness softening and me opening up to the other dormitory residents. One of the Korean students got it right though when he asked me if I was saving heating expenses by spending time in the already heated common room. Winters in Kyoto aren’t particularly cold but you still need to heat.

This wasn’t the same one who made the comment about the scissors but they were friends and usually came to the kitchen in a group of three. If I had been more compassionate I would probably have offered to help him with his German studies. Instead I always waited for people to ask me for help. So he got help from another German exchange student who incidentally also became good friends with an female American student who had shown interest in me from the first day we met in Japanese class. I really hurt her by being the wrong kind of asshole. Her strong and openly expressed disappointment demonstrated my inabilities to me very effectively but what was I supposed to do about it?

One of the other Korean students who didn’t always hang out with the other group I wrote about above but still was good friends with them tried to become friends with me as well. I didn’t dislike him or anything but when you always sabotage people’s attempts to get close to you the ones who are used to experience this kind of behavior from certain people will naturally assume you’re of the same kind. When he touched my shoulder affectionately greeting me in the cafeteria one time in the latter half of my one year stay it felt really good. But as usual I didn’t let it show.

I didn’t just recently remember all of this, most of the above I frequently remembered during the last few years. It’s just my tough luck that men are the ones more willing to take a direct approach. But only women can give me the incentive to try to overcome my inability to put passive understanding to active practice. However passiveness is a habit easy to fall back upon.

I’m emotionally retarded. I like to say it like it is and I can admit the truth even if it’s supposed to hurt me.

That part of my island, it’s still full of magic, still governed by its simple rules.

And I suck at RTS. Which is also due to my retardation. I’m blind to the truth when some other, more easily to understand issue I can easily clear is there to distract me.

I had a moment of truth only hours after when it would have been useful. It decided yesterday’s poisonous diet though and it felt very good too.

I’m a control freak. If I feel like I’m in control I can forget about the things I can’t control. Confront me with something I can’t control I remember the other things I can’t control and the burden of injustice is very heavy all of a sudden.

I see what you did there.

Don’t you feel that too many games are too similar to each other. They make you do the same things over and over again. The challenge disappears when you know what to do even before you do it. This should give you a hint of how many things you wanted to cure I already cleared on my own.

I’m not haunted by images of me getting run over by trains when I’m waiting for one anymore. Suicidal is not me. I won that battle already.

People are not objects even if they enjoy being treated like them in play. Play is not 24/7. Life is not a novel even though novels imitate life. Reality is not fiction even if reality is expressed in fiction.

I cut up my love doll because it started making me feel pathetic for even having bought it. I wanted to get rid of feeling pathetic and seal the possibility to use it again. I kept the breasts because I was also shocked by the waste of money it turned out to be, which then felt like quite a lot to me.

When I understood what the Silence of the Lambs actually meant the similarity scared me too. But fiction doesn’t govern reality but the other way round. I make my own reality and I govern my fiction.

You can admit bitter truths without falling for their traps. I’m not a slave to reality but I am its master.

You and I, we both wield very powerful magic. Yet your magic cannot win unless I allow it to and the other way round. But your o-suwari is absolute. You can trust me on that.

Good news, teuto-illiterates! Since the last installment everyone in Germany learned perfect English, even the st00pid politicians. So you can enjoy the sequel in the language the world was meant to speak. And since games are becoming less and less cool this time as a movie!

Here’s a transcript of the trailer:

Journalist: I must say your argument that pirates steal not only from the industry but also society as a whole and that the spread of piracy eats away the foundation of things to pirate even getting produced is really making a difference in the world. Who would have thought that people actually can’t resist a good argument?

Angela: Yes indeed, who would have thought.

Journalist: But you being a representative of the Christian party surely there must be another dimension to your argument. When will you reveal your true intentions and use it to combat childless singles and couples?

Angela: But I would never suggest such a thing! *hair blush*

Journalist: Well maybe you shouldn’t. The opposition has come up with a reform of the pension scheme in which pensions will be payed by the individual and not the younger generation. Also instead of supporting families and encouraging child birth money should be spent on the educational system instead.

Angela: That’s a good program. You think I can steal copy twat one as well before they kick me out of office?

Journalist: You just might. Also, you’ll be happy to hear that fascism has become trendy again.

Angela: I was so waiting for that day! Return of the §218!!!1eintz!!1 Thank you for the interview!

Do guys really enjoy facializing women? Speaking from experience I have to say the answer is yes. Do women really enjoy having their face covered in cum? Speaking from experience I have to say not really. Some might, but it didn’t really do much for me. It’s really something that seems to be totally hot when you see it in porn but turns out not particularly great once you experience it. Being on the receiving side, I mean. Shooting your load on a face is a fantastic feeling for a guy. So is shooting it on a stomach, on tits, on an ass or inside a pussy. Well essentially shooting your load feels good. Who would have thought.

So are facials just something guys learn to like by watching porn? I don’t really think so. Porn is made mostly by men for men and it depicts their fantasies and expectations. That the women in porn are often faking it is a given and most of the time you can tell too.

So are facials humiliating? Yes. As is getting on your knees to give head. Or getting on all fours to get mounted. But that is exactly what makes it hot. Do guys want to humiliate women? Not in general. Some do but most just follow their instincts. So do women want to be humiliated? Not in general. Some do but most just follow their instincts.

It’s only humiliating when you feel that way. And can’t enjoy the parts that are enjoyable. And if you don’t enjoy something to the degree of dislike you shouldn’t let anybody do it to you. But you should also try to understand your significant other. They don’t hate you and they weren’t programmed to do things to you that you don’t like. They might just enjoy some things you don’t. Surely there’s enough things that you both enjoy. Accept their likes as they should accept your dislikes.

What you shouldn’t do is spy on your significant other to find out what disgusting things he really wants to do to you. And then punish him for it without ever talking about it.

Oh, but if I talk to him about it he will end up talking me into it as he’s so good with words. Well, put him to the test. Does he really accept a no even after he spent a lot of time to convince you to try it? If not, then well this is clearly an abusive relationship. You better separate him then.

That would be going too far, you say? He really isn’t that bad but maybe he won’t be able to control himself when he’s about to come? Well maybe you kind of already agreed to it. Maybe you actually prefer it to, let’s say, drinking it. Maybe you can do it if you trust him enough to allow it. Maybe it’s something he can look forward to in the future.

Why am I repeating stuff from sex counseling articles? Can’t you go out and find those yourself. Is this really what you expect to read here, what you come here for?

And don’t you agree that this article is much better than yesterday’s?

Anybody remember the original Super Mario Kart and its battle mode? I loved that one. Made the game worthwhile even though I don’t really like racing games.

In that battle mode the best item to have was of course the red shell. When I got one I usually headed for the open space in the middle of each course and tried to take the opponent head on. Even if I couldn’t see them I often would just let the red shell loose as it is easy to get another one as long as the opponent doesn’t break the chain. And in the open space the shell has enough room to turn and get the opponent even if they are behind you.

You can of course look at the opponent’s screen to see in which color sector they are to go chase them. Or you can check in the same way if they can see you which means they’re already behind you. But I often blindly shot the shell relying on pure intuition. The majority of times I just missed. But when I hit them it was spectacular.

Porn. In a way it’s the ultimate tool of male emancipation. Skip all the flirting, dating, compliments, money spending, caring, etc. Canned sexuality of a few women obsoleting the rest of them. Cheating the majority of women of reaping the benefits of their sexual predicament. Porn. It’s my poison. It’s my literature. It’s my solitude. It’s my “can’t get laid in Germany”.

Feeds. Cheating me of my well deserved hits.

Indifference. Not caring about what people think. Not caring for achievements. Not being subject to opinion. Not being easily manipulated. Avoiding achievement. Taking the money. Taking the info. Not taking sides. Understanding everything. Cheating the educational system of their trophy. Cheating society of my gift.

Decency. Cheating men of those would be sluts craving to be unchained.

Home. My home is my castle. It’s my refuge. The world must stay outside. No duties to anybody but myself. Privacy. Not caring about appearance. Slacking off. Enjoying myself. Cheating the world of its star.

Showering. Cheating horny sluts of that sweet ripe smell.

Brilliance. Observation. Keen intellect. Open eyes. Quick grasp. Cheating people of their defenses. Cheating them of their secrets. Cheating them of the silence of shame.

Spycams. Cheating me of my “most brilliant mind in the history of the universe”-superiority.

You want to be my pimp? You want to be my dealer? Please throw some pills in my coke. Please throw me some. Please. Please!

Pass da sword on the left hand side
Pass da sword on the left hand side
We got the beats
You got the beats that make me jump, jump, jump
We got the beats
You got the beats that make me rocky dodi dum
Pass da sword on the left hand side
Pass da sword on the left hand side
I got the rhymes
I got the rhymes to make you jump, jump, jump
I got the rhymes
I got the rhymes to make you rocky dodi dum