Crazy Mama's quest for a pill to make her not want to punch people in the face anymore. More
For those who may be blissfully unaware, I want to preface this by acknowledging the word ghetto like many words, has evolved and changed from its original definition. These days the term is used to describe people, attitudes, culture, clothing, even diction. Yes, the ghetto has expanded and now is so much more. When I was young many who lived in the ghetto were African American, but for my purposes, I want to make it clear all the people in my ghetto are white. White as toilet paper.
My son Ill-Willz’ how he's known in da hood. holds the record amongst all his friends for the most sales of dope to undercover officers. By now you'd think he'd realize he's just not cut out to be a dope dealer, but not my Illz. I didn't raise no quitter. He's dat tall white boi yal met up at da Speedway. Yal said you was good on dem thangs today. Yal should hit him up. I know I'd like to...right upside his head.
Illz has an interesting swagger. It's necessary because he wears his pants around his knees. To prevent them from falling to his ankles he has to keep his feet spread about two feet apart and walk with straightened legs. Since his pants are around his knees, he keeps his butt covered by his size 25x Coogi shirt. For a long time I didn't understand his aversion to public transportation, but finally figured, with the way he wears his pants, it's impossible to board the bus.
Illz is a stiff legged walking dichotomy. He has a pocket full of money, but no job, a car, but no license, standards, but no morals, a head but no brain. I figure if you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well profit off ‘em. All this has inspired me to create my own line of baby clothes and gear. You've heard of Baby Gap and Baby Phat? Well, my line will be called Baby Ghetto. Not sold in stores, but out of the trunks of strategically parked Chevy Caprices throughout the hood.
And that's just the beginning...