left hand rob had a mardi gras party, and the bastard had to sleep it off.
by the by, deep fried turkey is the SHIT yo!
got some brekky and walked to the car for all parts east.
as we're getting in, a mini van pulls up with all of the sticker finery that a dominican man can pit ok his car to let you know he's dominican pops out and asks us in the secret hand language of car drivers if we were leaving. i give him the go ahead."ah tell yous man, any day ah dah week, ovuh good luck, ah'll take goo timin"
"i hear that buddy", he's got as much silver on him as mr. t wore gold. and he was rockin a leather fedora and a learner pea coat. "fly" by sugar ray was blasting out of his speakers.
"you know how many great singers there are that nevuh get famous"
"too many. how many?"
"as many peepull that has rabbis. thanks alot man."
"no problem. have good day"
"nah man you have a good year", he starts dancing with his hands up, "cause this guy Obama, no me amo".
"thanks man." but he doesn't hear me as his opens his door as if by magic and his car sings to him.
"iiiiiiiiiiiiii just wanna fly". timing is everything.
-the bastard
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