My fuckin name is Diana n' I be 15 muthafuckin years old. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I probably don't rap wit gangstas yo, but if yo ass be ill wit me, I can be ill wit you.
[[OC blog. I be bloggin like a muthafucka up in dis biatch. I RP wit everyone, no matta tha fandom;]]
Tracked tag: achildsbrokenheart
Guess what, muthafucka! Biatch nodded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! “I believe up in you.” Maybe her ass was deprived of chill yo, but everythang was startin ta make sense yo. Dude wasn’t a murderer, as her ass thought fo' a second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude looked like a normal pimp yo, but wit special powers. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch sat on her bed n' hugged her pillow.
“My fuckin name is Diana.” Biatch holla'd slowly, pokin a owl plush. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch looked at his ass n' smiled n' remembered dat her ass didn’t knew his name. “And yours?”
“Er…” Dirtnap fumbled fo' a moment before decidin ta go wit tha name of tha last spirit he had helped pass on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sometimes he would rap ta em fo' a bit, help em understand what tha fuck had happened n' dat they needed ta move onto tha next life. “Jason.”
Dirtnap let up a slow breath, eyes flickerin ta they normal deep brown as he chillaxed slightly. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch seemed ill enough… And her ass was tha straight-up original gangsta mortal ta interact wit his ass fo' a long-ass while. “It’s ill ta hook up you, Diana,” he holla'd, smilin slightly.
Guess what, muthafucka! Biatch frowned when his wild lil' fuckin eyes chizzled color. Maybe it was her imagination. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. “Ill ta hook up yo ass too, Jason.” Biatch smiled n' looked all up in tha window. “I never saw a storm like dat n' like n' like dat yo.” Diana could peep tha window bobbin by tha strong wind.
“Do yo ass gotz a family, Jason?” Biatch looked at him, her voice up in undertone. It was on her insomnia her ass missed her mutha da most thugged-out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch hugged tha pillow hard, tryin ta not cry. Da simply mention of her mutha could make her cry.
Watch mah crazy ass gettin straight-up cheezy-ass while I stare dis picture.
“So yo ass just rocked up here…” Biatch snapped her fingers. “As if yo ass were teleported?” Biatch axed skeptically and grinned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Was he bustin funk of her, biatch? But his wild lil' grill wasn’t showin any emotions, what tha fuck increased her curiositizzle. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch stared at him, tryin ta understand his cold-ass thoughtz yo. His blue eyes done cooked up her shiver fo' unknown reasons.
“Teleported?” he arched a eyebrow as he spoke. “I suppose yo ass could say that, yes.” It was a easier explanation than tha truth… And he could ‘teleport’, as her ass put dat shit. It was how tha fuck he travelled long distizzlez ta take care of souls dat needed ta pass on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. If he couldn’t ‘teleport’, his thang would be a shitload mo' hard as fuck.
Dude wasn’t like shizzle what tha fuck he should say and do - should he leave…, biatch? That might be fo' tha best. Then again, her ass had peeped him, so… Hm. Blue eyes was thankin bout as he examined her muthafuckin ass yo. Dude had no reason ta git on over ta her - her ass had nuff muthafuckin years left of her thuglife yo. His thang called ta him, souls dat needed ta pass on n' such yo, but he supposed he might be able ta stay here fo' a lil longer, if her ass didn’t kick his ass out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch could understand if her ass did.
Guess what, muthafucka! Biatch arched a brow. Of course he was bustin funk of her, muthafucka! But some shiznit on his ass was bustin her wanna discover mo' bout his muthafuckin ass. “So yo ass have supapowers and some shit?” Incredibly her ass wasn’t scared anymo'. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this, muthafucka! Maybe he could be a ill companion ta her on her insomnia. Shizzle, yo ass isn’t even thankin like a normal person, Diana…
“So, what tha fuck brought yo ass here fo' realz. Am I special and some shit?” Biatch axed, afta a few secondz tryin ta be thinkin why he would be there. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch never saw his ass yo, but somehow her ass felt dat up in a certain point of her thuglife he was next ta her muthafuckin ass. It was creepin her muthafuckin ass.
ReB-ta-tha-L-O-Gizzay if yo ass truly smoke up followin mah dirty ass.
Diana luddz rock ‘n’ roll. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch grew up listenin Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pearl Jam, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin n' Biatch. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They became her straight-up bands.
Guess what, muthafucka! Biatch likes ta listen Nordic noize when her ass is reading.
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Diana had a few playaz up in school yo, but never trusted her feelings ta them. They was only gangstas whoz ass her ass had a shitload of conversations. When her ass had ta leave Brazil, her ass realized they was blingin ta her muthafuckin ass. They kept her sane.
Now, up in New York, her ass is startin ta rap wit a few gangstas. There’s a pimp up in her class whoz ass always chat wit her n' her ass is startin ta like his ass now, nahmeean?
Headcanon time, muthafucka! Send mah crazy ass a word n' I’ll cook up a headcanon fo' mah Muse bout it!
