Sup niggers

Word up, my homies. Yeah, I'm down with the Maison. Yotsuya is my bitch, G. But the whole Ikkoku gang ain't got nothin' on my hood. Yeah, livin' with some wannabe yakuza on the other side of a hole in my wall might be a bit weird and all, but I live next to a crack dealer with a goat in his damn yard. Fucker offers me a brick everytime I goes out to get my mail or pour some bleach into the gastank of my other neighbor who constantly shoots at his bitch at night, keeping my ragged ass awake well into the early morning. I'd be like, "Just gettin' my mail, homie," and Mr. Crackhead'd be all like "Hey! Hey!...... Wanna buy a brick? It's goooooood stuff today, ya whore! MmmmmmmMMmm, bitch!" Then I'd be all like, "Whoa, Mr. Crackhead, Can't you see that I'm tryin' to fuck up the engine components of Mr. Wifebeater's auto next door? Shut the fuck up, bitch, or you'll wake him up and I'll tell the fucker you peed in his open car window last night! Oh yeah, bitch, I saw you do it too! I gots the Polaroids!"

Good times all. Though things got quiet after that time that Mr. Wifebeater caught me shoveling a steamy pile of dog crap onto the driver's seat after he must have heard me shattering the windshield, and I told him that Mr. Crackhead was paying me $5 to do it cause he wanted Mr. Wifebeater's beaten wife. After the police left later that day and took the two bodies with 'em, I tried to hook up with the wife myself... Turned out that Mr. Wifebeater wasn't even really married. He just liked to put a wig and bra on his big damn dog and shoot at the mutt all night. Oh, but she was a SAUCY one! Ooooooh yeah!