Going Ghetto

Alright alright. This one has been a blog all up in the making ya'll. So let me start at the beginning, and when i come to the end, I'll stop. First, Ghetto, not ghetto fabulous, not ghetto-licious, just straight up, jeri-curl, feed ya dog on a peice of cardboard, never lock ya door GHETTO. When certain situations arise and no alternative exist except for acting ri-goddamn-diculous, you have officially gone ghetto. When i first arrived in the seaport, i had all 4 hubcaps on my 81, one day upon getting into my G-ride, i notice that i'm short one hubcap, the only reason no one was permanently incapacitated was because there was no one there to go ghetto on for snatching up one of my old skool hubcaps. But this particular occasion is one of many in which you would pertain to the behavior of the ghetto itself. The best case of going ghetto that i myself experienced first hand goes as follows: Its me, and 2 amigos, we begin our usual routine with a salad and a few cold ones, the next thing we turn up some G-funk and get down with the getdown. The guy that lives next to my homies pad gets a little "upset" at the fact that it's going down like a plane crash in our piece and he wasn't on the guest list (not that there was one to be on ya feel me?) Well, peep this, that shit ass decides that the best way to get the better of us is to nigga knock on all the windows and the doors to the point we gotta cut the music down and wait to find out what the hell is going on outside. One of my compadres informs me that he's going around one side of the crib with his handydandy machete, and that i should do the same with his fancy chrome tire-iron. So we deploy on opposite sides of the house and i hear "he's coming around to you!" so i set myself around the last corner i was to turn on and swap my beer to the left and put the tire iron in my right and get in the best position to knock the shit outta who ever the fuck was headed my way, and to my surprise, there's the poor lonely ass neighbor guy, with a paniced look on his face and no where to run but through the woods, but at 11pm in glennville, the last place you wanna dip to is the goddamn trees. So i suggest he get on with the spill on knocking on the windows and he looks at me like I'm stupid, then he sees the tire-iron and understands the purpose of me and my comrade approaching from the rear with the machete, i decide right then that the only thing left to do is go ghetto on this bitch ass hoe nigga. How? I broke my beer bottle on the corner of the house and asked if wanted cuts, or bruises, and my newly arrived homies suggests both, we then break oput into a sprint behind this prick informing him on how well his mom gives fellatio and the best way to get her to give us her paycheck so to speak. The guy stops once the insults involve his dear ol mom, and we procede to deliver an em-bare-assing-wedgie, followed by an even more embarrassing cram of socks and dirt to the grill. (They were his own socks to) then we take his shoes and tie the laces together and pitch them over the powerline. (Priceless, simply priceless*)For now yous guys i gotta get loco's on the horn and get me one of those cubans. Enjoi Mountain Dew, and keep the A/C up, you know it's hot out in this bitch. Nikia Jonez out.