3rd leg
X

Friday, February 28, 2003


Good luck getting this one out of your head any time soon...

DMX
"X Gonna Give It To Ya"
2003


Arf arf
Yeah, yeah, yeah (Grrrr)
Uh, Yeah don't get it twisted
This rap shit, is mine
Motherfucker, it's not, a fucking, game
Fuck what you heard
It's what you hearin
It's what you hearin (Listen)
It's what you hearin (Listen)
It's what you hearin (Listen)

X gon give it to ya
Fuck wait for you to get it on your own
X gon deliver to ya
Knock knock, open up the door, it's real
Wit the non-stop, pop pop and stainless steel
Go hard gettin busy wit it
But I got such a good heart
I'll make a motherfucker wonder if he did it
Damn right and I'll do it again
Cuz I am right so I gots to win
Break break wit the enemy
But no matter how many cats I break bread wit
I'll break who you sendin me
You motherfucker never wanted nothin
But your wife said, that's for the light day
I'm gettin down, down
Make it say freeze
But won't be the one endin up on his knees (Whoo)
Please, If the only thing you cats did is come out to play
Get out my way

First we gonna ROCK, Then we gonna ROLL
Then we let it POP, GO LET IT GO
X gon give it to ya
He gon give it to ya
X gon give it to ya
He gon give it to ya
(Repeat Once)

Ain't never gave nothin to me
But everytime I turn around
Cats got they hands out wantin something from me
I ain't got it so you can't get it
Lets leave it at that cuz I ain't wit it
Hit it wit full strength
I'm a jail nigga
So I face the world like it's Earl in the bullpen
You against me, me against you
Whatever, whenever
What the fuck you gon do?
I'm a wool fin sheep clothing
Only nigga that you know that can chill
Come back and get the streets open
I've been doing this for nineteen years
Wanna fight me? Fight these tears
I put in work and it's all for the kids
But these cats done forgot what work is (UH-HUH!)
They don't know who we be
Lookin! but they don't know who they see

First we gonna ROCK, Then we gonna ROLL
Then we let it POP, GO LET IT GO
X gon give it to ya
He gon give it to ya
X gon give it to ya
He gon give it to ya
(Repeat Once)

Aiiyo where my niggaz at?!
I know I got them down in the game
Give em love and they give it back
Talk to much for to long
Don't give up your to strong (What?!)
A dog to bow bow hug it
Shoutout to niggaz that done it
And it ain't even about the dough
It's about gettin down for what you stand for yo

First we gonna ROCK, Then we gonna ROLL
Then we let it POP, GO LET IT GO
X gon give it to ya
He gon give it to ya
X gon give it to ya
He gon give it to ya


What You Say?

Thursday, February 27, 2003


I'm not sure which sucks more---Blogger or Haloscan. Though one of them is surely to blame for the disappearance of commenting on this blog, and most probably others as well....

Email me if you have a better, and more importantly, free Blogger-friendly commenting enabler...

And since I'm jumping through hoops to make this happen, make sure you actually use the commenting tool...

Happy Birthday to Grumpy Greg... He's 21 today...


Super Duper Pooper

Tuesday, February 25, 2003


So I met some friends for drinks on a Saturday night, and beat them all there because showing up fashionably late is so 2001. And rather than get a table, I sit right at the bar. This is important for two reasons. One, I think you look a little less out of place if you’re sitting on a barstool rather than saving an entire table by yourself, and secondly if you build a relationship early on with the bartender (before they get slammed), you can establish yourself as a tipper and worthy of their attention later on. My twist is not only to tip well, but to order something a little out of the ordinary and personalize it in some way, so that later on when it’s elbow to elbow sausages in black mock turtlenecks with matching black leather jackets, my bartender can quickly get me in and out of the drink line before I have to "have words" with the A-hole, trying to get service by waving around a twenty, that just bumped in to me for the sixth time. For instance I don’t just order a Red Bull and Citron, I’ll ask for a certain type of glass, or I’ll clarify exactly how much alcohol I’d like. You’d be surprised how much valuable time can be saved. Both yours and your bartenders. And you’d be surprised how much better your drinks will taste when you take the guesswork out of their hands. (I’d feel honored to think that Evan Ames is reading this and will someday adopt a similar technique and be known as "Mr. Four Fingers of Jack and Coke" in bars and taverns up and down the Left Coast).

Their goal is to take and fill as many drink orders as possible. Having to stop what they’re doing to have you repeat your drink order for the third time, loud enough to overtake ‘Jenny from the Block’ coming out of the speakers behind them and the two Ambercrombied A-wipes aggressively trying to order apple martinis for the trio of skanks that just walked in, probably just cost them at least three bucks.

Of course the trick is to keep tipping, and don’t switch what you’re drinking. As always I’m laying the groundwork for my drink-easy strategy, but with a little twist. My bartender is female and a little cute. In a grungy Paige Davis kind of way.

Then one of my buddies finally shows up and promptly says, "Remember to have me tell you a story about that chick later on".

I don’t like to wait for crap like that so I persuade him to relate his personal anecdote in installments, as in every time she’s out of comfortable listening distance.

"She shit on a friend of mine."

How does one respond to a literal bomb, like that?…. I obviously needed a little more information. Was she fulfilling a fetish for someone and dropped a Cleveland Steamer on their chest during the throws of ecstasy?…Or something even more disturbing?

"I don’t remember exactly, but he was basically doing her in the pooper and during the process…"

I’m sure you get the general idea. Now I understand physically how something like that could happen. I also understand how embarrassing that must have been at the time. But I’ll bet little did she know that she immediately stopped being my cute-spunky-bartender-with-the-sexy-short-haircut-and--pierced-eyebrow, and became the chick that pooped on a dude.

She did make a nice Tall White Russian though… So at least she’s got that goin’ for her, and well that’s somethin’ I guess…I didn’t dare order a MudSlide though….Which may mean I’m finally maturing…



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