In nineteen hundred ninety-two
Samuel L Jackson cruised the ocean avenue.

He had three pimps and left from Maine;
He pimped through sunshine, wind and rain.

He pimped by night; he pimped by day;
He used the hoes to find his way.

The police also helped him know
How to find the way to go.

Ninety hoes were in his crew;
Some hoes walked while others blew.

Then the hoes went to sleep;
And others watched the ocean street.

Day after day they looked for dough;
They dreamed of cash and cocks and blow.

October 12 their dream came true,
You never saw a happier crew!

“Police! Police!” Jackson cried;
He was nothing more than horrified.

But “parole” the plee was not;
It was the jail, and it was hot.

The Black natives were very nice;
They gave his crew food and lice.

Jackson spit out some gold
To get back home, as he’d been told.

He made the trip again and again,
Trading gold to get back home.

The first Pimp? No, not quite.
But Jackson was brave, and he was alright.

10/10/2010 3:42:10 PM

this is worse than that zipline thread

10/10/2010 3:45:15 PM

^

The fuck did you say motherfucker?

10/10/2010 3:47:21 PM

There was a riot on the streets, tell me where were you

10/10/2010 3:58:31 PM

i turned four years old

10/10/2010 4:03:50 PM

sophomore in HS

10/10/2010 4:31:44 PM

^ [old]

10/10/2010 4:41:38 PM

I sailed the ocean blue.

10/10/2010 4:47:58 PM