Ya wanna battle, huh? See ya watch and creak without a motherfuckin paddle Rattle that brain, I'm not that same ol' plain Jane We're on you like a border, you're nothin more than a crane or a pebble, take it from the real rap rebel Not Bushwick Bill but I can take it to that other level You think you got pull then pull it, uhh! I got the trigger so I figure you'll bite the bullet Then bite the dust and wipe the fuck Do what I must and what I must is bust the bubble or choose some trouble, forty-due's So stick to my Luger, Lady of Rage is comin thru Kurupt I fears no one, I makes em cool off like a ploar cap Lynchin as I hits, misses the??? Pushin packs to make a profit Diggy dope stuck on the topic so stop and gimme my pops, kid I'm livin large like a fat bitch So get back, bitch, I'm hard to broke art so the faggots This young black kid, I'm mercenary, merciless Murderin mega some niggas so who's first to diss They say I'm bad so you'll find none worst than this Chewin motherfuckers up like a Hershey Kiss Put to sleep, rippin the lyrics I'm leavin???
Intro cent Yeah, I'm a special kinda nigga with mine's I grind, I get's paper, you know what I mean? Hahaha, oh yeah I'm a bonafide hustler, nigga get outta line I'll cut ya' Me, I'm 'bout my paper, it's fuck ya' If you play games with mine, I'll come at you from behind With my nine, I'm a bonafide hustler Verse one cent They heaven's for the church go'ers, and hell's for the heathens So I'm'a just ball the fuck out, while I'm breathin 8th after 8th, what you know about that fast flip? Crack spots, smokey fiends, suckin on that glass dick Man sham stay askin' for a dime for nine I tell you what, I hook you up, this one last time Custody's comin', son is pumpin, watch the packs disolve Singles, c-notes, to food stamps, we stackin' it all Past that joint, what's his name son? I don't remember The haitian nigga with the guitar that sang gone in November I do a buck 40 in the rain, hydro plainin' Lamborghini diablo, candy-painted Got that hydro burnin', got the burner in the stash Hit the hazards, hit the a. And a pills of every kind of ecstacy Hash, ha-sheesh, I bought a '62 When I was younger with my crew I had them niggas sniffin glue It's 40 cinnagrams, to them trucka's and bammer's And I can chef up a miricle with arm and hammer I'm a hustler, man I supply the fiends I'm a hustler, nigga I'll sell you a dream Chorus cent I'm a bonafide hustler, nigga get outta line I'll cut ya' Me, I'm 'bout my paper, it's fuck ya' If you play games with mine, I'll come at you from behind With my nine, I'm a bonafide hustler Nigga get outta line I'll cut ya' Me, I'm 'bout my paper, it's fuck ya' If you play games with mine, I'll come at you from behind With my nine, I'm a bonafide hustler External links.
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As a result, we'd discussed possible punishments for disobedience. He'd wanted to avoid spanking since I liked it and he wasn't into physical harm. We'd eventually settled on standing naked in the corner, bent over with my legs spread and my wrists bound to my ankles, my ass bared to the room.
It was uncomfortable and somewhat humiliating, but not painful.
Soon, we were both moaning. Writhing. Panting. Coming together. Afterwards, we lie in the semi-darkness, his chest pressing to my back while we spooned on our left sides.
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It stopped a second later. When there wasn't a ding that the caller had left a voicemail, Chris laid his free arm across my chest under my breasts and rested his chin on his forearm, his dark eyes on mine.
"I'd never regretted the piercings. But I suddenly began to doubt I'd find a girl who would accept me with them.
As he worked, his jaw clenched and released, his head tilting this way and that to avoid mine. His hands expertly wrapped, threaded, twisted, and tugged the rope just how he wanted it. Repeating from back to front, weaving patterns he knew from memory. We'd done this so many times, I knew myself just by feel that this would be the basic version.
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He'd even wagered he could get more completed than me, so it made the hours go by a little faster. A little friendly competition was good for the soul, he said. I'd seen at least three movies where a guy introduced the girl he was interested in to his job flinging fish.
Of course, she enjoyed it despite her doubts. There was some kooky flirting against a backdrop of lively music, and then they ended up making out while the sun rose, despite the fact that the two of them would have been smelling like a chum bucket if it had been happening in reality.
But a year later, here we still were. Him silently rubbing it in my face with his mere presence that he'd gotten one up on me, coming and going as he pleased. Me letting him. And Jolie none the wiser.