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From the next aisle over came bixnood cRapping and the sound of basketball dribbling
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I was in the sporting goods section at Walmart when my ears started bleeding, and I expected my nose to start bleeding once I smelled niggerstank. It was the typical cRap that I can never understand (like I want to anyway), even if there wasn't the bang-bang-bang-bang-bang of a ball rapidly dribbled on the floor. There aren't a whole lot of niggers in my area, but there's a growing HUD project in the town next over that bleeds niggers into the area. So on my way to another part of the store, I was curious to see what specimen of niggerness had invaded.
And there was that abomination of nature: a white boy. A God damn white boy that was cRapping so authentically, he sounded just like a nigger. He didn't have dreads like his beloved niggers, but he had the typical baseball cap on, backwards, I guess it's only because it's still a little warm that he wasn't wearing a hoodie over it.
I wanted to go up and slap the niggerness out of him, and ask him how he wasn't ashamed of himself. What he needs is a strong father who should have done that years ago. There is no way in hell Sandy Sr. would have tolerated me listening to cRap, much less acting like a nigger.
