After getting a cereal box worth of lucky charms and an automobile stolen from him at gunpoint, Brisco is retaliating the best way he knows how. He’s released a diss record to the unknown, unidentifiable assailants.

I know. I know. You’re all like, “What the fuck is a Brisco?” right? Before he got into a net beef with Yung Berg, I’d have thought a Brisco to be one of Billy Mays’ new household wonder products.

“Mopping your bathroom or barber shop floor with a Brisco will pay for itself INSTANTLY!”

Either Billy Mays or the freaky-lookin, hooker-choking Sham-Wow nigga would have done it.

[Blogger’s Note: Too soon?]

I in no way suggest or endorse rappers go all Peter Schibetta by waging unwise physical warfare in unfamiliar territory. That’s not the way to play over some stolen costume jewelry. That’s how you get fucked the fuck up. Plus, insurance will take care of the car. [Blogger’s Note: Brisco does have insurance, right?] But what the fuck does grunting into the wind do for Brisco’s situation? A diss track to a bunch of non-rappers doesn’t bring the goods back or harm the jackers in any way. It only makes the victim look like a bigger asshole than the nigga who got had on the television news and nigganet alike for all to ridicule. The jackers are at home base right now laughing over the new pool table they got at the expense of Brisco’s ass.

Why give the jackers more importance? The diss record only shows two things. One, Brisco ain’t finna do shit. As he shouldn’t. Niggas got the drop on him. It happens. No need get founteded face down in the Everglades over a chain or three. And two, Brisco’s obviously been affected psychologically by this ordeal. He’s publicly angry and confused. That and the status boost for coming up on some rapper are worth more to a team of stick-up kids than the Claire’s Boutique ice they lifted anyways.

This scenario also only reveals the truth about the Hollywood Paradox niggas call the rap game. You’re a fool if you listen to rappers based on how hard they are instead of for the content of their music. When the toolie is unsheathed and the age-old question is asked, these speeding-ass velocirapsters will always get down before getting layed down. The extent of their recourse is some more of that good-ol' bangin on Pro Tools that made you a fan in the first place.

Questions? Comments? Requests? Seriously… don’t die over fake jewelry, kids.

P.S.: Ole 2Pac soundin' ass nigga. Mawfuckas really don’t understand 2Pac. That nigga had real problems and enemies… like the feds and shit. Plus, Brisco's not only a misguided Pacophile, but he’s clearly fuckin’ with Haitian Jack. Double fail.

P.S.S.: Them jackers ain’t “haters”. They’s just in the skreets hungry and are as stupid as Brisco for believing that the shit around his neck is worth the polish they shined their ratchets with.