I Gotsta Bust a Fat RhymeHos and bros, I've got some bittersweet news up in this piece. I'll hit ya'll with tha bad news first: this biznass up in here is my last column. I know, my suckahs 'n' sluts, it's hard to say "peace" to tha Grove, but all things must end and shit. I've had fun rapping all my tales of money-makin' and bitch-bangin' at you for the past 12 years—but not as much fun as you've had reading 'em! Hah, that's right. Ain't no thang. Ya'll and me, we'll always be brothers and sisters—especially if you got some tig ole' biddies I can, like, squeeze and shit!
Now for tha good news. I'm dropping this school shlizlat to follow my dream: hip hop! That's right, boys 'n' toys, M.C. Manheim is all up in your shit audio-style! Check out some of the fat-ass rhymes I've been busting with my homies on tha block:
Yo, yo, yo! What's that, ho?
Ain't fo' sho', I gots tah go
One up high, one down low
Too late, bitch! You too slow!
Aww, hell yeah. I bet ya'll gotsta take a break after peeping my tight rhymes. I rhyme so tight, it's outta sight! Say goodnight! Turn out tha light! Don't wanna fight 'cause it's aight! Lay your ears on more of my hard gangsta flow:
Ya'll best not mess wit my homey unicorn
He's a mystical beast with a big spikey horn!
He'll poke you in the eye
He'll poke you in the ass
He'll borrow your car and not fill up the gas!
Oooooh, shit! Mom's spaghetti! Mom's spaghetti! Say "whassup" to tha new Eminem!
Now, I know what ya'll are thinking. You're thinking, "Damn, where'd that sexy-ass Grovah learn to lay tracks like that?" You may not believe this, but tha Grove comes from a long line of happenin' hip-hoppers. My uncle Cleveland is a mad 2 Live Crew fan, and my dad once heard some Run DMC blastin' while waiting at a stop light. See, tha G-Rove's got fat beats and rhymin' schemes in his blood. Let me bust another fattie all over your eardrums:
Yo, one two, this is how I do
I gots tha rhymes from my head down to my shoe
New Balance in the house, arch support representin'
I gotsta wear tha insoles or else I'd be messin'
up my feet. Not so sweet when I bust a beat
and my feet be throbbin', my head bobbin'
to my fat rhymes. Yo, it's about time
that I lay one down 'bout the bitches who be trippin', slippin',
so I smack they ass like a hunk of grilled chicken!
Aight, D's and P's. It's time for Grove to pick down the mic one last time and thank all of those who made my column possible over the years. First of all, I'd like to send one out to Kelly Beckham who let me brush her hair during a steamy Seven Minutes in Heaven at Blake Johnson's 12th birthday party. I'll never forget you, baby. You were the first and last love of my life. My only regret was that you didn't let me slap tha mack on your fine little sister.
I'd also like to send my love out to all the ladies who have secretly loved me over the years but were too afraid to say something, write, or glance at me in passing. Ya'll know who you are! Don't be shy! The Grove's got enough Manheim for all the slutty bitches lookin' to hook up with a player like myself.
Peace and love to all my homies worldwide. Keep reachin' for the stars and maybe someday you'll grab a sweet, juicy piece of the poon pie.
It's a Manheim's World appears in 1,108 newspapers and magazines nationwide. Email him at: firstname.lastname@example.org
or chat online on AOL IM, screenname GroverManheim.