Hey, you.
Yeah, you — the guy in the camo gear with the orange vest, the greasy hair, the goatee and those weird yellow-tinted goggles that old people to like to wear. I just wanted to give you a heads up: don’t mess with me. Seriously. Whatever gun you’ve brought with you for this “hunt” that you’re on — don’t use it. Turn around, walk back through the woods, pick up the cans of Beast that you left lying around, get in your pickup and go home.
I’m warning you right now: you don’t want it with me. I’m a motherfucking Milwaukee Buck. You got me? Muh-ther-fuh-cking Mil-wall-key Buck.
Do you not see the muscles bulging out of my neck and shoulders? Do you know how many yokes I had to pull; how many sets of neck ups I had to tear through; how many delt exercises I had to invent; how much DGH went into this fucking bod? My muscles have their own muscles. Look at that picture! There is no Gold’s Gym in the Wisconsin hinterlands. We don’t get a one-time trial session with a deer trainer when we join the local forest.
We just tear shit up.
You sure you can handle it, gunnin’ for me? Don’t just stop at my ripped neck. Look at how my antlers, ever sharp, don’t point out toward you but up and in, back toward themselves. That’s sinister, hombre. You will get torn up if those things catch you where the sun don’t shine. Or in the face. IN THE FACE!
And how about my eyes? Yeah, that’s right — I’m rockin’ demonic zombie eyes. We’d have colored them in with red, but Herb Kohl wants children to leave the arena without the fear of an impending nightmare. But don’t think for a second that I won’t ride out like some heartless S.O.B. Because I will. I make those four horses carrying the harbingers of apocalypse look like My Little Pony.
And the blood. Did you notice the blood? I’m fucking swimming in it over here. A large, looming triangle of bitch-ass blood, drawn through violence from punks like you. At this point, maybe you’re swimming in something else. Have you pissed yourself yet? I wouldn’t be surprised.
So, yeah, walk away, little man.
You don’t want it.
Joey writes about hip hop, politics, sports and life at Straight Bangin’ and waxes poetic on the NBA at FreeDarko. Sometimes, he can be heard on the FreeDarko Presents: The Disciples of Clyde Podcast. Other times, you can find him at the library pursuing higher education and listening to Dilla. You don’t want it with Joey neither.
You don’t want it.
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