Roderich was skippin' down the street, fancy automatic weapon in hands, ready to pounce on any punk he saw. Why? This nigga was mad! His anger was risin' to the top of his jar of jam! First of all, he'd been wearin' the same pair of pants for a month, and that Gilbert had the nerve to point it out. Normally Roderich wouldn't give a flyin' fuck, but he was in the presence of a bunch of fresh thugs and bitches. Gilbert's comment stopped any action he may have gotten that day.
Roderich felt someone grab his shoulder, and there's no doubt he thought it was the po-lice! Ol' Roddy fired a few shots around him, unfortunately not hittin' anyone. He turned around and saw that dumbass nigga! And that nigga was cacklin' away!
"Gilbert, you a dumb nigga," Roderich informed him. Someone had to tell him, yeah? Hell yes!
The retarded thug said, "Oh ya? Why you say that, foo'?" He chuckled and pranced around the streets and recieved odd glances from various ho's on their way to church. He beckoned one of 'em over with his supply, offerin' the dope to the lady. "You butta be back for tha product," he said, lookin' right at the ho's sparkly leg warmers.
She graciously took it (damn did she need a fix!) and trotted off to her colleagues.
"Nigga, she just takin' that and runnin'," Roderich stated.
"Naw, I know all tha hoes round here. And you never answered my question 'bout why you call me dumb."
Roderich never remembered any of the bitches. They were all the same. Niggas and crackas and any kind of yellow person are all the same 'cos they people. Gilbert only stands out because he's such a damfoo'!
Roderich pushed up his cracker glasses and said, "It's 'cause you get high off your own supply." He was grippin' his machine gun with all his faggoty strength. He'd blow this guy's head off if people wouldn't come after him since he killed their beloved dopeman.
The glasses thug continued, "You know I from another hood. There, the first rule of dealin' was 'Don't get high off your own supply.' Sometime you gon' find yourself with no dope and no money to get more."
Gilbert laughed at that and enlightened him, "Man, you got no clue. Y'all stuck with that fucked up idea. Once you buy from someone in this business, you trapped. You don't buy your own supply. You supply your own supply. Then, it's fine to get high off your own supply."
Roderich was shocked. One hand on hips, one hand carryin' death mechanism, he told Gilbert, "And how d'you get yo' own supply?"
"I've got trees, nigga!" Gilbert spat. Then, he tore the gun from the real foo' and said in his best impression of Roderich, "The first rule of livin' is to never let yo' guard down!" Grinning, Gilbert fired quite a few shots and hit dear Roddy in the head and tummybox. He stepped on him and jumped a few times to make sure he was dead. The hood was safe for sure.