Merry Christmas and *$#!

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I turned on the radio and heard some Christmas song about rims, Hennessy, and getting crunk. I think I may have blogged about this song before, but I’m not sure — there’s no telling how many songs like this can be churned out every year. Why must I have to hear about hoes, gold, and clothes at Christmas? If we’re going to be ign’t at Christmas, can’t we at least get Soulja Boy to teach us a Santa dance? If not, shut up, and mess up another holiday, because I’m not trying to hear about your pill popping, Trojan gift wrapped Christmas.

Then again, I spent Christmas night at the club last year, so I suppose if you’re going to detract from the sentiments of the holiday, at least get T-Pain to sing the hook.

Now that I’ve gotten my Ebenezer moment out of the way, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, a Happy Chanukah (But yeah that’s over, sorry for being late), and a Happy Kwanzaa to all three of you who celebrate it.

If you feel like leaving a little money in my Paypal account, I can drop you the address. Or you can send me a vocoder and I can hit the studio and earn enough ring tone money to pay off my loans. Whatever’s clever. Be safe. Be blessed. Be nice to other shoppers, because you could get stabbed.

P.S. If you crack on my curly flat top and my knees, remember: You chickens is ash…and I’m lotion. And yes, I just put some cocoa butter on my knees. Don’t hate.

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