When I waived my hands in the air, I cared. I just lied about it.

By Satan, Guest Columnist

By Satan,
Guest Columnist

I don’t know about you, but Ima ’bout to go sideways up in here.

I’m fittin’ to get up in yo grill. I’m gonna put you all on notice right now before I head back to the crib: Lucifer is about to flash!

I already told you I’m not responsible for Justin Bieber’s career.  Lay anything else you want to my charge, but I’m not copping to that one.

But I’m also going to say this.  No longer will I be goaded into waving my upper extremities in reckless fashion while being psi-puppeted into some rhythmically-induced apathy about the matter.  You rappers need to knock it off with the ad hoc pseudo hypnotism, swoon theories, and overmodulated interrogations about loose dogs,  and get back to green-lighting the crips in the second stanza of your music.

But next time I wave my hands in the air, I WILL care, Homie. I cared last time.  DO SOMETHING!

Word.

 

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SAY SOMETHING!

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