{and now at the 1'st annual Freenet-On-Linux-Bash is the Mr. M Jackson to
speak on behalf of all the known Linux *slash* Freenet Newbies }
- Mr. M Jackson makes his way on the stage to the microphone -
- As the claps die down Mr M Jackson is heard giving his *speach* on the MIC -
"Wazz up wit dis shit! First yall be hatin on my skin cula n now u be fuckin
wid my newbiesness, Damed white ass crakaz! N whutz wit u sayin bout yo fine
ass hoes yall got fuckin yo daddy?!! Sheat! U mudda fuckaz wana rumble cuz u
fuck wit me n i'll wip out my nine n pop yo ass's deahd, n mah homes ill show
u da streatsweapah! n put yo fuckin led pelteddecapatated corps out to fuck
dead HOE'S (cuz datz all yo be able to fuck!!haha!) Mo FUCKAZ! FUCKWITME HU?
Damn how dense can yall get. Yall bettah beah cookin KFC oh biscutz an gravy
oh YO GOING DOWN BIATCH!"{this is where your local Classic American Detroit
Thug wips out his Glock nine (no gangsta should ever be without it i guess
thats why he has one) and blasts your ass into the next millennium because of
the absents of KFC or biscuits and gravy} "N waddup wit dis no Uah Ess Bee
sheat on muah copuddah! It coust fuckin 8 AK's to get dat sheat n now it don
work. THATS IT MUTHA FUCKA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
- Mr. M Jackson is then thrown an AK-47 from his accomplice Dr. Dre and
promptly emptied a clip load of steel core "cop killa" bullets (just like the
one that are used in LA to rob banks!) into who he thought was behind this
linux shit, the announcer.-
"Straight up Detroit husslin!" - reflects a proud Mr. M Jackson to a stunned
group of linux hackers and nerds -
"Sheat Dre lezz blow diz jont"
"I hea ya nigga" - Says Dre -
- Mr M Jackson then quickly light up their crack and run toards the door just
when a white stage lady blocks their path -
"Damn not dis hoe again! Mua fuckin cracka ass!"
- Before the lady had the chance to make her move for their money again Dr.
Dre pulled up his nine, held it sideways in true ghetto fashion and pumped
her worthless white ass with two clip loads of lead - "Ain't no fuckin hoe
gunna send me to da slamma again! Who's yo daddy!" -Dre said as he continued
to fire at the lifeless corpse-
-Then Dre and Jackson hop into their purple 1977 LTD with gold spokes,
hydraulics, and a phat ass sound system- "Dis one pimpin ride nigga" yells
Mr. M Jackson (who is driving for once) as Dr Dre continues to lock and load
his guns for all the drive by's their gunna do around town-
-Later on AMERICA'S MOST WANTED-
"...If you've seen these two suspects don't approach them, they *may* be
armed and are extremely dangerous...
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