Who Made The Potatoe Salad? Page #9

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Now fall back, now. Fall back.

- Okay, no.

- All right.

- Who's in there?

- The interrogation room.

Hey, Daddy.

Why don't you and him

do your own little thing?

Love conquers all, right?

Yeah, baby, yeah.

- Chill that metro sh*t!

- Love conquers all.

So, there it is.

I finally got my wish.

Me and Ashley were married

in a small, quaint garden

in South Central,

and we lived happily ever after.

That is until Christmas at the Jenkins'.

Due to some counseling, a good time

and a few cartons of cigarettes,

I'm able to correspond

with you once again.

Now, I just wanted to call

and congratulate you on your nuptials.

You know, with whatever mock-ass nigga

you about to marry.

Now, I ain't hating, you know,

I'm congratulating.

But you know what fucks with me?

Is the fact that you'll probably

never be able to see

that motherfucking slithering cobra.

You know how that helmet gets fatter

than a motherfucking fat-rat.

You know what I'm saying? You'll never

be able to see the creepy clingy,

the bull's blow, the rat-a-tat-tat.

No, but on the real, you know,

congratulations on y'all

little wedding and sh*t.

You know, I ain't no hating.

Congratulating like a motherf***er.

There's enough p*ssy to go around.

P*ssy everywhere.

I know there's about 235 b*tches

out there right now free to f***

since I'm locked the f*** up.

Plus that little half a b*tch, that midget,

you know what I'm saying?

Like to toss her around.

But you was my favorite girl. Yeah.

Bonaventure. Bonaventure.

Hey, on a real, though,

that little mock-ass

nigga you're with and sh*t,

you know, y'all coming out

of that motherfucking church,

you know, and they start throwing rice,

I hope that sh*t is rocks, b*tch!

You know what I'm saying?

F*** you, the priest,

your mama, all them motherfuckers

sitting there, whoever watching this b*tch.

All y'all is some punk motherfuckers.

Yeah. G-up!

Kiss my motherfucking ass, b*tch.

"You may now kiss the bride," b*tch.

He kissing my dick, tell that nigga that.

What's that nigga's name?

Write me back, baby.

Write me back.

Thinking about you, always.

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