A Very Geeked Up Tale Of A Playa Named Juicy J

Death by Party | That shits medical

Not long ago and not far away there was a beautiful, big black man who sat all crunked the fuck up on a stoop in an alley of a night club waiting for bitches to give him a rim job and a blunt.

His name was Juicy J. Juciy J’s  weed was a lovely shade of light green, and he had his shit rolled tight. His eyes were warm and red and he had a wonderfully wise look on his face.

Juicy J looked very smart in a dope gold chain and a  waistcoat with a gold satin bow tie at his neck croft. He was no ordinary playa…

He had arrived in the club just before midnight, that special hour when  lovely big assed hoes chill in the window, all decorated with fairy lights. Pounds and pounds of sparkling hoe glitter had been draped over everything, and dope rhymes had been playing all night. Juicy J was especially fond of hitting gin & juice in a double cup. He liked the light, tinkling sounds of the ice in his cup. It always made him feel merry.

Then he threw the fuck up. The end.

-Annette Garcia

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