I smoke a fat crack rock today, but then I realized that I was out. So I put a couple nines in my waist band, an uzi under my jacket, put a knife in my shoe, put a few grenades on my belt, grabbed an AK, and went across the street to the local dealers. There was a dude at the front so I put a few rounds into his chest and walked in the door. Everyone heard that **** out front, so I see a bunch of *******s running down stairs, coming out of doors, pulling out guns, so I lobbed few grenades and ducked behind a couch. It seemed like a much better idea at the time, cause when I got up I slipped in a puddle of blood like a dumbass.
So I go down to the basement where they keep the rocks, and some ******* pulls out a rocket launcher!
He fires that ****, but I surprise his bitch ass by diving down the stairs under the rocket. He goes for a gun, but I grab my knife and give him a
Columbian neck tie. After that, all the rocks were mine.
Long story short, I've been up for four days straight, and I think the cops are hiding in my oven.