Post by fninfamous on Jan 18, 2007 18:22:34 GMT -4
The screen of those watching their televisions goes to a static fuzz for a moment. Then it returns to normal as it appears to be showing a certain person's locker room. In the background, you can hear the remix to the song "Stomp" by Young Buck, T.I., and Ludacris. The camera slowly shifts over to the left side of the locker room. No one is there. Then it slowly shifts to the right side of the locker room. No one. Then it begins to move back to the center and there standing in the middle of the room was none other than... yep, you guessed it... Tha Infamous 187. That smirk on his face as usual as he makes his way closer to the camera. As he walks, he begins saying...
"Here we are once again. I ain't had much time to address a certain someone who seems to be in hidin'. Guess it's up to me to smoke yo' @$$ on out of ya hidin' spot. It seems 'dat anotha' big man in 'dis bidness is nothin' but talk and no... "walk." You know who you are. You know who I'm talkin' 'bout. You go on to run yo' mouth 'bout me and 'dis and 'dat sh*t befo'. Then when I damn near cause yo' @$$ a heart attack in 'da middle of 'da ring, you seem to go missing. Where you at man? I mean, come on now. You flex those 'roid induced muscles... and no I'm not talkin' 'boutcha "Sassy"... you come out flexin' yo' 'roid induced muscles. Talkin' big 'bout what 'da f**k you gonna do to me. Then when it comes to game time, you fail worse than Shaq shootin' free throws. Where you at man? Don't tell me I made ya afraid to even come out of ya locka' room. If 'dats 'da case, then you pretty much f**ked 'cause there ain't no apologies fo' b***h made mothaf**kas like 'dat. You supposedly supposed to be 'dis big @$$ monsta'... and nah I ain't speakin' on Dru... You supposed to be 'dis big monsta' and you can't be stopped. I stopped ya heart fo' a split second, laid ya down fo' 'da three count, and you are some how comin' up mysteriously missin'. It's funny really. You are one big b***h. How 'da hell are we NOT goin' to find ya? It's kinda f**ked. You must be duckin', dodgin', and runnin' from me or some sh*t. Can't handle 'da heat, get 'da f**k outta' 'da kitchen homie. As I've said befo', I do 'dis beef sh*t all day. It ain't nothin' new to someone like me. You may look and come off as anotha' beast in 'da ring, but when it comes down to it... you just.. are gone. So where you at? I'm callin' you out. I'm waitin' fo' you to show yo' face. Scream my name. Whateva' 'da hell you wanna do. Thought ya had somethin' fo' me? Are ya not built fo' 'dis sh*t like me? It's a damn shame. A damn shame. I'd atleast think you'd have 'da balls to "walk" out and call me out on 'dis sh*t. But it seems to me 'dat once again, anotha' mothaf**ka can't handle me. Guess I won then. Game ova' b***h. I'm searchin' fo' yo' @$$. I ain't lettin' you get away 'dat easily. So why don't you just come out and play? Punk b***h. You ain't got nothin' on me. You ain't got nothin' fo' me. It's a done deal homie. I once again must have sent anotha' b***h packin'."
187 then just shakes his head as he has but one last thing to say...
"Damn, can't believe it. The old sayin' goes... anotha' one bites 'da dust. Familia B***h."
"Here we are once again. I ain't had much time to address a certain someone who seems to be in hidin'. Guess it's up to me to smoke yo' @$$ on out of ya hidin' spot. It seems 'dat anotha' big man in 'dis bidness is nothin' but talk and no... "walk." You know who you are. You know who I'm talkin' 'bout. You go on to run yo' mouth 'bout me and 'dis and 'dat sh*t befo'. Then when I damn near cause yo' @$$ a heart attack in 'da middle of 'da ring, you seem to go missing. Where you at man? I mean, come on now. You flex those 'roid induced muscles... and no I'm not talkin' 'boutcha "Sassy"... you come out flexin' yo' 'roid induced muscles. Talkin' big 'bout what 'da f**k you gonna do to me. Then when it comes to game time, you fail worse than Shaq shootin' free throws. Where you at man? Don't tell me I made ya afraid to even come out of ya locka' room. If 'dats 'da case, then you pretty much f**ked 'cause there ain't no apologies fo' b***h made mothaf**kas like 'dat. You supposedly supposed to be 'dis big @$$ monsta'... and nah I ain't speakin' on Dru... You supposed to be 'dis big monsta' and you can't be stopped. I stopped ya heart fo' a split second, laid ya down fo' 'da three count, and you are some how comin' up mysteriously missin'. It's funny really. You are one big b***h. How 'da hell are we NOT goin' to find ya? It's kinda f**ked. You must be duckin', dodgin', and runnin' from me or some sh*t. Can't handle 'da heat, get 'da f**k outta' 'da kitchen homie. As I've said befo', I do 'dis beef sh*t all day. It ain't nothin' new to someone like me. You may look and come off as anotha' beast in 'da ring, but when it comes down to it... you just.. are gone. So where you at? I'm callin' you out. I'm waitin' fo' you to show yo' face. Scream my name. Whateva' 'da hell you wanna do. Thought ya had somethin' fo' me? Are ya not built fo' 'dis sh*t like me? It's a damn shame. A damn shame. I'd atleast think you'd have 'da balls to "walk" out and call me out on 'dis sh*t. But it seems to me 'dat once again, anotha' mothaf**ka can't handle me. Guess I won then. Game ova' b***h. I'm searchin' fo' yo' @$$. I ain't lettin' you get away 'dat easily. So why don't you just come out and play? Punk b***h. You ain't got nothin' on me. You ain't got nothin' fo' me. It's a done deal homie. I once again must have sent anotha' b***h packin'."
187 then just shakes his head as he has but one last thing to say...
"Damn, can't believe it. The old sayin' goes... anotha' one bites 'da dust. Familia B***h."