sum-n-saf half - black star line edition
oh yes, kids, sum-n-saf are back like a bad case of genital warts. (you can't freeze us off, suckas!) if our previous ignorant yet intelligent irreverence wasn't enough to hold you down, we got another list for that ass. this time, we yet again pummel headwraps and wrapper sympathizers with a list of why neither one of us is going back to africa. please note: we're spitting dy-lan-like venom (comma) yo. saf's hormones are all out of wack, and sum, well, sum is just empathizing with saf.
nigga, it's hot.
who wants to mine for their own diamonds?
i doubt i can throw some d's on an elephant, camel, or giraffe.
too old to get into the oprah winfrey leadership academy.
if i wanna catch the hiv, i'll just go to baltimore.
i like my white oppression in house...or i want white only oppression.
nigga, for real…it's like, equatorial hot, not just down south, family reunion hot…
i take enough intra-racial bullshit off american blacks as it is ("you're just a jigaboo, tryin' to find somethin' to do…")
i don't even like the beach, nigga, so the fuck am i going to do with a desert?
monkeys like to hurl their shit at niggas, and i just paid $40 for this touch-up.
if i want a sankofa experience, i'll just go back to the in my old neighborhood and ask for my high school job back.
the only thing worse than a nigga with a gun is a starving nigga with a gun.
i don't have to have my meals life-flighted in the us.
malaria may be manageable nowadays, but it still ain't no hoe.
i have to imagine that a bunch of women that haven't had a clitoral orgasm in, i don't know, their entire life are not going to be the friendliest bunch of beyotches you'll ever meet.
honestly, i don't even really fuck with niggas all like that.
i ain't dancing around topless for anybody unless they got some dollars for that ass.
i don't care what anybody says – gnu meat does NOT taste like chicken.
no, seriously, nigga. it's hot. like wear a fig-leaf hot. not just martin luther king fan hot.
if i gotta choose between meeting bono in person, or having that nigga's ipod, i'ma go with the ipod. call me limewi(red).
nigga, i saw the last king of scotland, and the only bitch worth fuckin' was kerry washington--an american negress. you can say it's self-hatred. i call it a sincere appreciation for the miscegenation that has created the western aesthetic.
listen, i love lionel richie as much as anyone (the nigga had hits), but for memyselfpersonally, i don't ever wanna be a part of nothing that prompts niggas to get together and make a tribute album. not voluntarily, at least.
you call it a famine, i call it compulsory anorexia. tomato...tomahto.
true story: at heathrow airport this nigerian chick got stopped by the dogs because of some food she had in her luggage. now, if this dog is trained to sniff out (force) wmd's, and he stopped her, what the fuck am i s'posed to eat?
let me reiterate, i don't fuck with niggas like that.
my mom's dog's name is nala, what else do i need to do to prove my authenticity? get james earl jones to read me segments of roots as a bedtime story?
more sum-n-saf madness:
language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison