Monday, November 30, 2009

Now thats handy

With 5 dollars to spend at the Sushi Train, Eat as much as you want and put the plates in your bag. Save a whole 3.00!

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Smash away all knowledge, pointless chatter and drinks is on the menu.


Cram cram cram exam.... The results wreak the essence of future life so they say.
Push, compress, encompass weeks and months of learning made into a book lasting only a measly 3 hours and spit that out quick smart, section 1 of 103308849 only recommends you spend 1.4 seconds on it; Oops there goes your time.

Time is of the essence and essence from Coles is only a 95cents that will slow down your brain if not your liver.

I never really seem to deliver but you will keep reading only because the new facebook layout is getting you all sweaty and annoyed.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Refreshin'

Ow BIG I See.

Some people just have way to much time and knowledge.

Lyrics:

First things first, I poppa, freaks all the honeys
Dummies - playboy bunnies, those wanting money
Those the ones I like cause they dont get nathan’
But penetration, unless it smells like sanitation
Garbage, I turn like doorknobs
Heart throb, never, black and ugly as ever
However, I stay coochied down to the socks
Rings and watch filled with rocks

TRANSLATION:

As a general rule, I perform deviant sexual acts with women of all kinds, including but not limited to those with limited intellect, nude magazine models, and prostitutes. I particularly enjoy sexual encounters with the latter group as they are generally disappointed in the fact that they only receive penile intercourse and nothing more, unless of course, they douche on a consistent basis. Although I am extremely unattractive, I am able to engage in these types of sexual acts with some regularity. Perhaps my sexuality is somehow related to my fancy and expensive jewelry.


Lyrics:

And my jam knock in the Mitsubishi
Girls pee pee when they see me, Nava-hoes creep me in they tee pee
As I lay down laws like I lay carpet
Stop it - if you think your gonna make a profit

TRANSLATION:

I enjoy playing my music loudly on my car stereo. Apparently, women enjoy this also because they become sexually aroused when they see me driving. Oddly enough, when I visit the Native American reservations, some of the more sexually promiscuous Indian women attempt to seduce me in their homes. Their intent is to divest me of my earnings. Such actions are unacceptable.


Lyrics:

Dont see my ones, dont see my guns - get it
Now tell ya friends Poppa hit it then split it
In two as I flow with the Junior Mafia
I dont know what the hells stopping ya
Im clocking ya - Versace shades watching ya
Once ya grin, Im in game, begin

TRANSLATION:

Understand this fact: you can have neither my money, nor my weapons. I suggest that you inform your peers that we engaged in violent sexual acts. Currently, I am rapping with my associates, the Junior Mafia. I’m having some difficulty understanding why you refuse to approach me. I am attempting to make eye contact with you through my expensive glasses, and as soon as you respond with a smile, I will approach you.


Lyrics:
First I talk about how I dress and this
And diamond necklaces - stretch Lexuses
The sex is just immaculate from the back I get
Deeper and deeper - help ya reach the
Climax that your man cant make
Call and tell him youll be home real late
Lets sing the break

TRANSLATION:

I prefer to open the conversation with light banter about my wardrobe and jewelry, then I like to discuss my collection of expensive cars. This is more than enough to convince you to have sexual intercourse with me. I am able to insert my penis further into you when I enter you from behind. Furthermore, you will be able to reach orgasm. I understand this to be a problem with your current sexual partner. He needn’t be concerned about your whereabouts. Please phone him and inform him that you won’t be home for a while. By the way, please sing the chorus of the song for me also.


Lyrics:
Shes sick of that song on how its so long
Thought he worked his until I handled my biz
There I is - major pain like Damon Wayans
Low down dirty even like his brother Keenan
Schemin’ - dont bring your girl around me
True player for real, ask Puff Daddy

TRANSLATION:

Your current love interest no longer wishes to hear your fabrications about the length of your member. After I had sexual intercourse with your woman, she became enlightened as to the proper way it is supposed to be performed; violently and immorally. It would be in your best interest to keep your woman away from me as my sexual prowess is very strong. If you are unconvinced, ask Puff Daddy.


Lyrics:

You - ringing bells with bags from Chanel
Baby Benz, traded in your Hyundai Excel
Fully equipped, CD changer with the cell
She beeped me, meet me at twelve

TRANSLATION:

Despite the fact that you attempted to win her at her doorstep with bags full of expensive clothes and a car (the lower end model Mercedes Benz which you financed by signing over your current vehicle) containing an expensive stereo and a cellular phone, your woman has contacted me through my pager indicating that we should rendezvous at midnight.


Lyrics:
Where you at? Flipping jobs, playing car notes?
While Im swimming in ya women like the breast stroke
Right stroke, left stroke whats the best stroke
Death stroke - tongue all down her throat
Nuthing left to do but send her home to you
Im through - can ya sing the song for me, boo?

TRANSLATION:

You, on the other hand, jump from job to job, barely able to maintain payments on the Mercedes Benz you purchased for your woman. Meanwhile, I continue to engage in sexual intercourse and commit lewd osculatory acts with your women. My only remaining option is to request that she leave my home and return to you because I have reached orgasm and no longer have a need for her presence.


Lyrics:
So, whats it gonna be? Him or me?
We can cruise the world with pearls
Gator boots for girls
The envy of all women, crushed linen
Cartier wrist-wear with diamonds in
The finest women I love with a passion
Ya mans a wimp, I give that ass a good thrashing

TRANSLATION:

The ultimate decision rests with you. Whom do you choose as your sexual partner. I can take you on cruises around the world. I will dress you in the finest jewelry and footwear. You will be envied by women worldwide in your fine clothes and jewelry. There is a special place in my heart for beautiful women. I will defeat your man in an altercation because he is effeminate.


Lyrics:

High fashion - flying into all states.
Sexing me while your man masturbates.
Isnt this great? Your flight leaves at eight.
Her flight lands at nine, my game just rewinds.
Lyrically Im supposed to represent.
Im not only the client, Im the player president

TRANSLATION:

You will be dressed in finest clothes on the runways of Paris. I will fly you to every state to shop for fine clothes and jewelry. You will enjoy sexual intercourse with me and your man will be forced to pleasure himself through manual stimulation. What a life! I’ll return you to LaGuardia in time to catch your 8 o’clock flight. The timing is perfect because I have scheduled a date with a second woman who arrives at the same gate at 9 o’clock. I’ll seduce her in the same way that I seduced you. I rap well and I am a positive reflection of my home town. Not only am I a sexually deviant, misogynistic, immoral, wealthy, male prostitute, but I also sit on the board of directors of the organization that governs others of my kind.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Stay away

from girls they have cooties, thats why we hated them in the first place.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Stubborn

"Very wrong you are. See it is the silent ones that kill."


Get a taste



Goonie showed me Onra a few weeks back and i have became a fan so i thought id share. Click the flick for you know what then choose your poison.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

PeterPanPittyPatter.

I want to move to Mexico; I hear its quiet nice over there in spring. Id spend my days drinking C's and eating T's and be wallet, phone and intranet free. Yes I'd quite like that. I would also keep my grabby little hands clean.
Cleans the new dirt have you not heard?

At the moment I really am this lifeless Vyborg sorry you must not have got the memo. For a better source of entertainment ill just stick to resighting song lyrics whilst we walk so you can boogie down while I'm going down with some fancy clown.

See there we go, easier than Easy E, he dropped 3 and the basketball team needed to take a knee...

This is going nowhere. Reside home take a breather. Until a later stage to cradle my sleeping disorder which could not have came at a better time may i add, ill just stick to playing around with shutter speeds and using my phone light as a source of entertainment all night.




Also on another note; This got my gonads turning.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


Monday, November 9, 2009

Get it in your head

From possibly the best to date.


DESA
22Nov06

"Ya know, I really can’t understand writers nowadays. They talk all this shit about bombing and writing graff forever and then someone says, “Yo, you better slow down with those clean trains and telling people your business,” and you[‘re like, “Fuck that, I ain’t never gonna get caught hitting trains.” But then one day the vandal squad comes to your house and arrests you and all of a sudden, all your thugness and Hot 97 realness starts to drain from your body, and you’re like, “But, but, but I didn’t do do do anything.” Since you’re so fucking shook at that moment, all you can do is try and plead for your life. Now you’re begging, “Please, can’t we work this out somehow? Here take my tv, vcr, or here take my mom’s jewelry or these naked flicks of my girl,” but your pleading doesn’t work and now you have to be locked up. The funniest thing about the whole situation is that they had no real reason to lock you up, but instead of denying everything you sign a statement.You did what they say you did. To top it off, they tell you to write your tag on this piece of paper the way you do it on the walls, so now they tell you, “If you ever write anywhere ever again, we can and will arrest you.” Now, after you get your shoelaces and dignity back, you tell your boys this big bullshit story about what happened. You’re like, “Yo son, cops came to my crib son and raided it son, but I was lucky because I was blazin’ a el out the window, and I saw them coming. So I took the three keys of coke and was able to stash them shitsÉyo son, they was even sweating me about two bodies son. Oh word, but I played it off like I didn’t know what they was saying. I just let them know that I’m a thug.”

I’m sitting in my room trying to stop my dog from wrecking things and I hear my mom yell, “Robert, pick up the phone.” So I pick it up to find out who it is, turns out to be my brother. He starts by saying, “Just to let you know, the Daily News has been calling my house all day looking for you.” So I’m like, “Yeah, okay. You have nothing better to do than mess with me?” He says, “I’m not messing with you. I’m very serious. They are running a story about you in a few days, and they want to get your side of the story.” “Story, what fucking story?” “They said that they know you’ve been painting walls again, and they want to know if it’s you or a copy cat.” “Well, what did you tell them?” “I really didn’t tell them much, except that you were dead. You got hit by a train last month. But I don’t think that’s going to stop them from running the story, so I suggest you stay away from anyone or anything that could get you into any trouble because once that story comes out, you’re going to be extremely hot.”

So after getting off the phone, I say to myself I can’t believe this is happening again. Why can’t they leave me alone? Oh well, it’s not like this hasn’t happened before. No sense stressing it. A couple days passed, still no story. I start counting the days since they called my brother. That was on a Thursday, so FridayÉ SaturdayÉand so on. Now it’s Monday morning, and that makes four days. So far so good, but little did I know that this was the day the story was in the paper.

Now I’m walking to get the train, trying not to think about that dumbass story coming out. I’m sitting on the train reading my book, and I glance over and see some guy reading a newspaper. I notice “Graffiti” in big black letters on the page he was reading. Holy shit, I think. That cannot be about me. I stand up to see if the article is about me, and now I’m standing over this guy pretending IÕm reading the subway map. At that moment, I get my answer as I see a picture of myself. I’m standing there saying to myself, this cannot be happening to me again, but I remember that this is the Daily News that’s written this bullshit about me and has been doing it for the past ten years. These reporters from the Daily News make it seem like I did something to them personally, and now this reporter is running around the city trying to find out anything negative about me.

Just because someone never notices something for ten years does not mean that it wasn’t already there. Now there is this jackass reporter playing Colombo and trying to get any little thing on me, and calling the Vandal cops. Of course he gets in touch with Steve Mona, one of the cops that really hates me, who is ready and willing to make me look like the punk that I was when I was on the cover of the Daily News in 1994. I’m looked at as the guy who started the whole graffiti cancer that is all over the place. Right away everyone says that I’m the kid responsible for ninety percent of all the damage, ‘Hey don’t get us wrong. We know other people do it too, but Robert Morrissey is the Osama Bin Laden of graffiti bombingÉhe doesn’t just paint his name on a building, he bombs a building.’ Now everyone reading that whack story about me who doesn’t know me thinks IÕm some insane person out to destroy everyone’s property.

For ten years I’ve been the only person who has really been put awayÑI mean locked up in real jails, not some fake graffiti jails and not central booking. Seeing how fucked up jail life is, why would someone want to put me in a place where there is so much evil and where I could be killed over a phone or my sneakers. Just because I wrote on some walls and subway cars? Now when I end up getting arrested after getting out of jail the first time, I can’t understand why so many people are shocked. If they wanted to teach me a lesson, they would have sent me to school.

There hasn’t been any large amount of graffiti around certain hoods in a long time now. The only reason there was so much graff around there anyway was because of the train yards, so in the ’80’s graff was something they had to deal with. It was a part of NYC up until the MTA declared graff dead in 1989 and now all of a sudden, graff is a problem in certain neighborhoods. You had all these people complaining about graffiti on the subways, but they didn’t stop and think if they chase kids from the train yards, they’re just going to end up somewhere else. Within a year or so, most of the space on the streets started getting taken up. Now everybody’s doing fill-ins, and these same people who were so happy that the trains were clean began to realize that when they came out of their homes in the morning to go to work, their houses were all tagged up.

There are all these people out there saying they are trying to make a difference in the community. Just like the ones who rallied to put me away. In the their same community lived a very likeable and extremely popular kid named James Conte, but the rest of the city would know him by his second name VE ONE. June of 2002 marks five years since he was murdered and there has been no one arrested for it. There’s never been any news article about his death, and he was a kid that grew up in the same community where these people say they are trying to make a difference. How come they haven’t called any Daily News reporters about looking into his murder? His mother lives in that communityÉwhy aren’t they helping her with this?

So here’s some advice for all of you people that don’t know any better or who are too busy thuggin’ it to realize. If you’re being arrested for something, you DO NOT have to sign a statement. If the cop sits there and keeps on saying they know you did such and such, that usually means that they can’t prove ANYTHING. Also, everyone that goes out bombing a few nights a week should not be going to these “art/graff” shows. All you’re doing is letting the V-squad know who you are. If you didnÕt know, they stay outside every show and take flix and videos of you. All of you people doing this are killing graffiti by letting the cops know your moves. It’s time for you to realize that you are committing a “crime” by doing graff. You need to start standing in the shadows and not posing for pictures with make-up on. If you just robbed a bank, you wouldn’t be showing off your mug while you’re robbing the place. Wake-up. The cops are watching, listening and they ain’t playing fair. Take it from, the-most-talked-about."

Sunday, November 8, 2009


KeepSpinning

Giving me headaches, making me sick, feeling drowsy, dazed and confused.


I am now a fan. Let me in.....


evol! evol! evol! evol! evol! evol! evol?

Switch that back and kick it two times this just hit home harder then child abuse.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Thursday, November 5, 2009

xoxo



I wish my life was like a season of gossip girl.


When whatever happened in my life there was always a theme song playing in the background which made the moment even more emotional, where everyone is perfect wearing expensive clothes and eating so many croissants that you wonder why their bodies are so perfect! Everything at the moment is so boring and the same; going to school, going to parties, going to the same places, hanging with the same people, eating then sleeping. I want drama!



Or maybe I just want Chuck Bass...


Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

An Intricate Lie-f

After reading Mitch's post it suddenly occurred to me that this insincere style has come into fashion.


The events on Saturday night, I'm sure you've heard of by now, have been so twisted and turned and regurgitated from mouth to mouth that the event is so far from the truth I wouldn't be surprised If it turns out to be a 'rape and murder' case.

And as much as I love the death stares I receive in freo, I am so over all this lame FrEo-KrEwz-Ill Get-My-BoiZ-Onto-you bullshit, and I find it hilarious that people are stupidly lieing when their lies are so intricate, that soon they will catch up on them, your BoIz can't save you now

and in the Freo graffer world I guess I'm on the 'Most wanted List,' but I don't care, In my opinion its one big Joke, after all I'm not scared of a boy with a marker.
Lets rumble.