Scott Storch: *fiddling with keys* *whistling “Lean Back” melody* Damn. Nigga like me tired than a motherfucker.
Brooke Hogan: Well, I hope you’re not too tired for a little fun. *reaches into her purse*
SS: Nah, baby. I can’t fuck with another Slim Jim. *opening front door* Can’t believe your pops still got you eatin those.
BH: I can’t believe you still haven’t produced my big single, ass. These Slim Jims are why I’m 6-feet and thick and delicious how you like it. *kisses Storch*
SS: Yeah… I got that Slim Jim for you, baby. Lemme just drop this deuce right quick. I’ll be right out. *enters bathroom* *turns on light*
DMX: WHAT’S GOOD, BABY?! *slight growl*
SS: X, what the fuck? You scared the SHIT out of me!
BH: *from living room* Who are you talking to, baby?
DMX: Oh, shit! You got company? Bitches? That’s what’s good, my nigga!
SS: *to Brooke* I’m on the phone, baby! *to DMX* Fuck, man. How the fuck did you– *notices open bathroom window* Damn, X. I didn’t expect to come home and find you on my toilet.
DMX: Calm down, nigga. I’m almost done. *growls and grunts*
Those of you who remember this much can’t possibly go for the following bullshit:
“The cost of the drug didn’t effect my life… It was the poor decisions I made, that were so poor financially, that caused me to go into this situation where I was forced to change my lifestyle … forced to change a lot of things… [I had] 15 to 20 cars at all times… That’s not smart. I would take one of 15 half-million-dollar cars I owned and go to the mall and spend that much money. Stupid, stupid stuff. It’s like it didn’t make a difference. They were ego investments. I would have been great with three or four cars! I didn’t need a 117-foot boat.”
[Blogger's Note: Here comes a little Training Day]
Of course, he’s talking about “The Love Boat”. Butt Naked. Pedico. Cocoa Krispies. Koko B. Ware. Birdman [Chris Andersen or Baby]. White Chicks. The Marlon Wayne Brothers [I know. WTF, right?]. Blow. Chelsea Handler… Etc.
I didn’t know Scott Storch liked to get jet. In the same article, Storch’s manager corroborates the stories of half-million dollar round trip to the French Riviera. This leads me to believe this nigga’s been powdering his nose just the same. They only way a flight to the Riviera costs $500,000 is if there’s a shopping bag full of bricks stuffed in a plane wing… or an inactive engine… or some dead soldiers’ caskets.
For Scott Storch to claim that he blew $70 million dollars on cars he admits cost up to $500,000 apiece means he’s got the lying ability of a fiend in the anchor segment of an episode of Cops. I’m a language arts-oriented guy, but with a tally of 15 vehicles, that’s only $7.5 million–a tenth of the bread Storch blew at an Orlando Magic Game 4 pace.
Niggas know shit like this can only happen from fucking with that Turkoglu. I’ve only ever fucked with the Reefer Alston in my day, but I know from watching Scarface that good coke can be very expensive and gets increasingly more addictive the purer and costlier it gets.
“It was the poor decisions I made.” Wigga, please. How do you blow through generations worth of paper in an album cycle? Poor decisions like making South Florida dope boys rich as fuck? How about hosting nightly cocktail parties featuring caviar and cocaine crackers? I bet this nigga stirred the Peruvian into his Kool-Aid like it was nothing. You’ve got to be going through the shit that quickly.
Fuck outta here.
Questions? Comments? Requests? Wish niggas would bring the lean back? Hiyooooo! email@example.com