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 |  Subject: SWAG without the Swag  Sat Feb 04, 2012 11:51 pm | |
| Voice over the intercom: Boarding session in progress, last call for New York.
I almost didn't hear the lady as I was lost in my thoughts; it's been like this for months now. Just me trying to get by with the music business. I got done with my latest gig at the CUVEE Nightclub in Chicago, making nearly 7 G's just from that place. It was packed wall to wall and there were even some celebrities there just jamming out to the rhythm of the music. Now I was in line to get home after a hard day's work, and I just couldn’t wait. Sunday could not have come any sooner as I was given a call a few nights ago by a man I never thought I hear from. It was Rick Christian who called me up and asked if I wanted to rejoin IWF. Ever since my last match, I felt ashamed and angry, after our "leader" left our asses to the wolves and was gone for god knows how long, I've been struggling to keep the group together. Wishful thinking though, Victor couldn’t win a fucking match to save his own ass and I was just doing fine on my own. Then that Brandon dude whooped me like a running slave and left me to sink into my own sense of helplessness. Ever since I left, I've trained my body, my mind, everything just so I can get back into the game better than ever before. However there was that thought that ran across my head that the guys back in IWF didn't want me to return. Well Rick's call made me think otherwise and the fact that I get a crack at the nigger who abandoned me was all the motivation I needed to retie my laces and get back into the fray.
Flight Attendant: Passport please sir. The voice snapped my train of thought, I looked up and saw this smoking hot lady in that cute looking outfit that looked too tight for her skinny ass. But I wasn’t in any mood to be macking up to some dumb broad, so I showed her ma passport and she sent me on my way. I had nothing but revenge on my mind right now, revenge on the man known as James Shark.  Location: New York City.Sir Mixer: Damn man.........I woke up feeling like shit, I noticed the room was all dark and it was night time. I groaned as I got up into a sitting position, rubbing the temples on my head as I was clearing the feeling in my head. I turned to the side and noticed a empty 40 ounce bottle of booze laying on its side. I remembered now: I was chilling out on the coach relaxing after coming back from the air port. I must have been drinking and then passed out on the bed, I checked the clock and it read 7:26 P.M.......shit man..........I was really out wasn’t I?I really didn't need this bullshit just two fucking days before my return match against my former friend and "teacher" James Shark. I say that because that asshole didn't really teach us jack shit, fucker only needed us so that he could regain his damn title that he lost. We did what we could, I tryed to do ma part by finding out where this nigga Corey lived so that we could squad up and take him out. That's why I wasn't there during the match between him and Dan, sides I figured with Shark's own angels watching his back he wouldn’t need my help. Then to top it off, the fucker left us to fend for ourselves when he quited IWF and left with his girls. I did everything I could to keep the group together but Victor was worthless and without James there was no one here to lead us. So I just said the hell with it and carried on my own. I did pretty well during the Battle for the Briefcase tournament, beating that faggot ass Matt Young or whatever his name is. I only had like 2 losses on ma belt; the 2nd one came from Brandon who not only knocked me out of the tournament, but out of the company as well. I decided that they didn't want me and I wasn’t gonna have em bury ma ass just for their amusement. So I left, but since then I felt as though a part of me died. I felt like I could have done so much more, but I just didn't have the confidence. James Shark was the one who gave me that confidence and I was willing to do anything to appease him. I thought him and me were tight and all that, but he showed his true colors, turned his back on me and Victor and left the place he had the nerve to call home.Now all I could think of was taking him out and making sure that he regretted leaving the group to begin with. "I didn't kill Team Swag, Victor didn't kill Team Swag, James Motherfucking Shark killed it." Those words repeated in my skull like a song but the foul taste of alcohol was beginning to build in my mouth. I knew I was about the blow chunks and so I made it to the Jon just in time to let out some much needed relive.I've been spewing chunks for what seemed like forever, but by the time I was done, it was a mess inside that toilet. The smell was bad enough, but the sight itself would make even Freddy Kruger gag. I reached for the handle and took a deep one in as the flowing sound of water flushing out the vomit ringed around the room. I then took some axe to the toilet and went at it like a cop dousing an Occupy member with pepper spray. It was overdone, but I'll take the smell of a body fragrance over foul vomit any day of the week.I replaced the cap and set it back into the cabinet before I grabbed both sides of the sink and looked at the reflection staring back at me. "Man I'm fucked up." Were my thoughts at that point, although fucked up was more or less an understatement. My eyes were bloodshot, I had lines all over my face and neck, my mouth was hung open like some mental retard. I was a complete mess to say the less, on the bright side though I didn't have to worry about working in the morning. I already called the guys back at the Music Company and told em that I won't be doing any nightclubs this weekend. It’s funny how I went from underground to mainstream DJ in just a few short months; had to take some time off due to being an athlete on IWF. Now that I'm back, I'll have to manage my schedule a little better so that I have time to prepare for my matches and do my job at the clubs. It'll be tricky handling two jobs at once, but I've got a raw talent like none other. I've known people who have three jobs and are barely getting by; I'm only doing two and going strong. I personally can't wait for Sunday to come around the corner, just the thought of getting my hands on James just so I could punch his face in made me crack a smile. I'm feeling better now, but I can already start feeling the side effects of a hangover coming in. I best take it easy and drink some water before it ruins my concentration, I know Shark ain't a pushover and I'll have to be at my best if I have any chance at all to beat him.The next morning I woke up feeling alot better than last night, drinking all that water really helped, but it also caused a quick trip to the loo. I took a wizz and felt like some sweet sexy girl just gave me blowjob. I then hopped on tha sofa switching on the Tube and was sitting back when I saw this on the screen:  I plopped right back down on the sofa, just letting the image of James showin off sink in just before I shut off the T.V. I then started to pace around the room, I wasen't gonna stand for this, I wasen't about to let this punk ass softy talk me down like this. He may be a former champion and known for having the most knockout wins than anyone else in this company, but I ain't taking this disrepect lightly. This fool wanna scrap with me? He got a beef with me? Well then it's on yo, I'mma take it to this self centered asshole who's breath smell like cheap whore pussy. He will no live to see his own life flash before his very eyes when we step into that ring. I grabbed my stuff and I was out tha door, I wont take this fool's antics, I've looked up to him and this is how he treats me? He's no diffrent than those white boys that he claims to hate with a passion. Yet I see him with that group of Nsynce rejects and thinking to myself "Yo if this nigger is as good as he thinks he is, than how is it he's in a group of circus freaks?" I didn't have time to think about it, I just made my way towards the air port, not caring about anything other than getting to the show and bringing the pain to James's face. Yo who's that guy kissing the man's nose? Oh wait I know who that is, ladies and gentlemen I give to you James Motherfucking Shark! Missed me fucker? I figuired you didn't, after all who cares about poor old Sir Mixer? Man you bitches no nothing dog, when me, Victor and James came into the spot, we were tight man, we told each other that we had each other's backs man. But as it turned out, Victor was a complete pussy, being the first black man to tap out. Then Shark took us in and gave us a lecture, told us that REAL niggers don't quit. Well then tell me this then Shark, why did you fucking quit?
I mean while you were out there getting into trouble, getting your black ass thrown in jail again and again, me and Vic here were doing everything we could to bust you out so that you could fight. Actully I take that back, I DID everything I could to bust you out man. If anyone is the fake out of the three of us, it was Victor, that pussy ass bitch only won one damn match in his life and it was the same I was in. The nigga was getting beatin up by Matt Young for god's sake! Matt Fucking Young, the same fool that I easly took out in just one minuite. Nailed the scratch record and that was it, end of story.
Also you saying I can't rap and all that, no shit man I know I can't fucking rap, I'm a DJ yo, I do music, I don't do the lyrics, that stuff is for the singers. Also I need to talk about Shark's intellgence, I know I'm no smart guy myself, too gangster to finish the 5th grade and all. But Shark here said that I'm only in IWF because of him, yeah it's true that he brought me and Victor here, but I was still around after he was gone. I didn't just up and left like he did, I stayed and tryed to keep the group alive and kicking. But Vic woulden't have any of it, even with a High Impact title right there in his grasp, the fucker coulden't step up his game and fight like a real G. At least I won a damn match on ma own, with no help from anyone, took Matt Young and made him ma bitch. You know what Shark? Imma make you my bitch when we sqaure off tonight.
See I didn't come back to win your damn respect, you can take that crap and shove it where the sun don't shine. Yo lost whatever repect you had when you decided to tuck your tail between yo legs and run away like a whining lil faggot. I find this very fitting that we would fight each other in the BftB tournament. This was where I left and now this is where I return to take you down a notch.
Only now it will be a lil different, no more jokes, no more rapping, I'm above that shit now. It's just you and me Sharky, and you best start praying to the Black Jesus in da sky right now.
Because after tonight, you and your 12 inch is gonna feel tha pain of ma foot up yo black candy ass. |
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