Ya'll know Michael Jackson's son decided to start a blog, right? Drawing a question-mark as to which son I'm talking about? Yes, the one he held over the balcony like he was finna throw a bullet pass to Randy Moss.
HIT HIM UP! CTRL + D BOOKMARK YA BOY! And if you haven't done so already, CTRL + D ME, TOO!
Did I ever tell y'all 'bout the time I met Michael Jackson? True story.... I was at a red light and I look to my right and look it is... The Pissy Pied Piper himself, R. Kelly. Somebody was in the passanger seat waving at me. I looked closer... Wacko Jacko in the flesh. Sorta. Anyways, he kept waving and was tryna say something but I ran that damn red light as soon as I figured out who he was. After about 5 blocks of pedal to the metal, metal to the floor, I arrived at my destination: the local playground.
Guess who pulls up? Micheal and Robert... talmbout some, "OH! So this is where the playground is located!" I hopped back in my Caprice and drove off into the sunset.
But be sure to hit up Blanket's spot. Don't judge him on his Daddy. Remember... I had to spend nine-months in THIS LADY.