The men can’t afford to move out. So they beat the women of all ages up, leaving them with bruises and cuts minimum and making secret sexual advances on them, using my tastes, women and lines. Always getting in touch, on some snake sh!t, coming round like they didn’t just say something rude about man. Think I don’t know the jig but I got the saw.

You’re all poor imitations, you can never replace me. The audacity, telling God what to do. Thinking you know better. Everything I say is supported my multiple credible sources. I back my words up with evidence, I have to with the way you all pick at me. Remember this, u all thought u knew tingz about me before, u were all wrong, what makes yall think U aren’t wrong again? πŸ™„πŸ€¬πŸΌπŸ’―

I’m enjoying these back and forth with you guys. I’m gonna win again and I’m keeping note of who’s saying and doing what. Y’all could’ve done so much better with that negativity. The only people recommending people who have attacked me in the past are black people. We’ll see how well you do without me.

So I banged him twice, he ducked, I got him in a headlock and tripped him on the floor and he rolled around on the floor. But here’s the key, I never stopped breaking his neck from the moment I got him in that headlock.

Dem a poison Jahs weed. Selassie can’t smoke weed, these fake rastas in UK nah care. That’s why mi nah touch carnival, they busy sliding cocki in Jahs promises. Then they follow man. When mi raise arms and fight back, they call police. As the God of Rastafarians don’t u think it’s an insult and a piss take that mi can’t bun spliff. Mi nah trust 1 dealer in the UK. But dem want peace and cocki? Mi tink not.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started