“Pimpin' ain't easy. Pimpin' ain't dead. The ho's are just scared”
Only on a pussy-ass team like the Raptors would whuppin’ two gobler-basters not worth their grissel qualify as a dubious muthafuckin’ moment. But I should have expected this shit. When I rolled up into Toronto in ‘98, the only pimp on the team was Jackie Christie, and the ho’s weren’t scared one goddamn bit. That shit needed to change.
So what did I do? Whup ass is what.
First there was Jeff McGinnis. But fo’ real, when word spread that this bitch was trying to move in on this fine Blaxican trick I was hittin’ at the time, I had no goddamn choice. You try to flab-stab another man’s chickenhead, you deserve to get your ass fanned out. That said, I didn’t plan on beatin’ in his ass during the pre-game, I planned on beatin’ his ass the first fuckin’ time I saw it.
Then there was Tyrone Hill. Now the only thing this cootchie-ripper could do worse than shoot free throws was shoot dice. I barely took off my fur coat at his stank-ass crib in Phillie and I was already up $54,000. But fitty-k plus no-pay equals you getting your fuckin’ wig split son, even if you do serve me some fine-ass ribs. When he showed up in Toronto without my money, his ass should have known better.
So next season, when some punk throws T.J. Ford’s surgically repaired ass to the ground and Jorge Garbajosa’s pimp-hand stays stuck at his side, ask yourself: are the ho’s scared now?
P.S. Blue Baller, you even think about asking me to write one more muthafuckin’ story for this piece of shit website, you’ll wish all your peckerwood ass got was a RickBrunson.com cease and desist letter.