Diddy put the paws on drake??? Update- Diddy yells take that take that after smacking drizzy

[p00rky]

Who says Ja got washed? 50's camp? That's not believable either. What else are they gonna say.

All I know is for 50 Cent being 5"11 220lbs and a boxer, he was always the one getting stabbed up and shot at when it came to Murder Inc.

Didn't 50 get stabbed in the dark? Also, since when has Murder Inc been linked to 50 getting shot at? Maybe I missed something in the news during that time. But I don't recall that.

 

[p00rky]

Remember when Diddy was looked at as being one of the soft nikkas back in the 90s? Come to find out he's harder than anyone in the new generation

A sissy hitting another sissy. I have seen that plenty of times in San Francisco. There is nothing gangsta about that.

 

[Malik]

fukk you want him to do box a bullet?

Just saying breh...you can't call a dude a p*ssy when his team kept stabbing and shooting up your team. What part of the game is that

 

[dutchie]

I imagine diddy first powdering his hands before he put the beats

 

[Plexxx]

drake a bytch

 

[Malik]

Didn't 50 get stabbed in the dark? Also, since when has Murder Inc been linked to 50 getting shot at? Maybe I missed something in the news during that time. But I don't recall that.

Im pretty sure Preme had something to do with 50's shooting.

 

[BlackMajik]

at nikkas thinking if Drake told everybody not to fukk with Ciroc, they would do it

Drake fans are tied with Eminem's as being the worst hip hop fans lmao

They really think a bytch ass nikka like Drake is that important hahaha

 

[MrPentatonic]

what's crazy is since diddy is bisexual he coulda raped drake and creampied him if he really wanted to. Woulda really added insult to injury

wtf is wrong with you?

 

[krackdagawd]

Remember when Diddy was looked at as being one of the soft nikkas back in the 90s? Come to find out he's harder than anyone in the new generation

 

[Woodrow]

Drake is proabbly like me, a not tough cat that thinks it's easy to be tough when the need arises
Mike Tyson ruined about 4 years of my life.
I really loved the way he fought, the peak-a-boo style. I never had any boxing training of my own, but i figured if i got in a fight my studying of Tyson fights would be all the training i needed.

One day in school i was hawkin luiges into textbooks and dropping them from the 3rd floor window onto people's heads below. I hit Beasley Mayfield, I large black girl with a jherri curl and stature of a large industrial brick pizza oven. She challenged me to a duel after school, to which I obliged. When we began our waltz she looked me up and down and then i immediately got into my shuffle. I held my fists close to my chin and bobbed and weaved to get into her inside as she threw wild overhand strikes. I envisioned myself as a perfectly chiseled Brooklyn killer ready to eviscerate my victim when her fist punched the back of my hands, knocking my knuckles right into my nose and slightly gapped teeth. I dropped them for an instant as the bottom of her palm and wrist crashed into my nose. I instantly began to smell sulfur and bacon as salty discharges gathered in my eyes, making them fog up and my vision impaired. Beasley then took her fist and slammed it into the top of my head, much like a cartoon gorilla wacking a mole into the hole from which it came. The impact of my head being pushed into my throat made me involuntarily say "KAAAAACKKK"

I dropped to the pavement as a heard a collective "AWWWWWWDAYUUMM" from the hecklers that encircled us. This was far different from the chants of awe in Caesar's Palace I envisioned at the start of this ruckus. As I lay on the ground nose numb with the feeling that the top of my skull had been cracked she grabbed my left pant leg and the left sleeve of my French Toast shirt and began to lift me off the surface. I began to feel the wind and see the faces of onlookers around me begin to spin around me rapidly, but they were not the ones that were moving in a circle. I wanted to scream and beg for her to stop swinging me for what seemed to be infinity, but I did not. When Beasley decided she wanted to stop she let me go on maybe the 18th revolution, and my limp body went flying into a pile of hamster cages.

The embarrassment was so great i had to transfer schools. But i couldn't understand how a style so graceful could be so ineffective against am uncoordinated brute

i cant with u nikkas. i just cant.

 

[p00rky]

Im pretty sure Preme had something to do with 50's shooting.

Huh? I know that. You insinuated that Ja had something to do with it.

 

[dutchie]

Drake is proabbly like me, a not tough cat that thinks it's easy to be tough when the need arises
Mike Tyson ruined about 4 years of my life.
I really loved the way he fought, the peak-a-boo style. I never had any boxing training of my own, but i figured if i got in a fight my studying of Tyson fights would be all the training i needed.

One day in school i was hawkin luiges into textbooks and dropping them from the 3rd floor window onto people's heads below. I hit Beasley Mayfield, I large black girl with a jherri curl and stature of a large industrial brick pizza oven. She challenged me to a duel after school, to which I obliged. When we began our waltz she looked me up and down and then i immediately got into my shuffle. I held my fists close to my chin and bobbed and weaved to get into her inside as she threw wild overhand strikes. I envisioned myself as a perfectly chiseled Brooklyn killer ready to eviscerate my victim when her fist punched the back of my hands, knocking my knuckles right into my nose and slightly gapped teeth. I dropped them for an instant as the bottom of her palm and wrist crashed into my nose. I instantly began to smell sulfur and bacon as salty discharges gathered in my eyes, making them fog up and my vision impaired. Beasley then took her fist and slammed it into the top of my head, much like a cartoon gorilla wacking a mole into the hole from which it came. The impact of my head being pushed into my throat made me involuntarily say "KAAAAACKKK"

I dropped to the pavement as a heard a collective "AWWWWWWDAYUUMM" from the hecklers that encircled us. This was far different from the chants of awe in Caesar's Palace I envisioned at the start of this ruckus. As I lay on the ground nose numb with the feeling that the top of my skull had been cracked she grabbed my left pant leg and the left sleeve of my French Toast shirt and began to lift me off the surface. I began to feel the wind and see the faces of onlookers around me begin to spin around me rapidly, but they were not the ones that were moving in a circle. I wanted to scream and beg for her to stop swinging me for what seemed to be infinity, but I did not. When Beasley decided she wanted to stop she let me go on maybe the 18th revolution, and my limp body went flying into a pile of hamster cages.

The embarrassment was so great i had to transfer schools. But i couldn't understand how a style so graceful could be so ineffective against am uncoordinated brute

 

[Billy Ocean]

Drake is proabbly like me, a not tough cat that thinks it's easy to be tough when the need arises
Mike Tyson ruined about 4 years of my life.
I really loved the way he fought, the peak-a-boo style. I never had any boxing training of my own, but i figured if i got in a fight my studying of Tyson fights would be all the training i needed.

One day in school i was hawkin luiges into textbooks and dropping them from the 3rd floor window onto people's heads below. I hit Beasley Mayfield, I large black girl with a jherri curl and stature of a large industrial brick pizza oven. She challenged me to a duel after school, to which I obliged. When we began our waltz she looked me up and down and then i immediately got into my shuffle. I held my fists close to my chin and bobbed and weaved to get into her inside as she threw wild overhand strikes. I envisioned myself as a perfectly chiseled Brooklyn killer ready to eviscerate my victim when her fist punched the back of my hands, knocking my knuckles right into my nose and slightly gapped teeth. I dropped them for an instant as the bottom of her palm and wrist crashed into my nose. I instantly began to smell sulfur and bacon as salty discharges gathered in my eyes, making them fog up and my vision impaired. Beasley then took her fist and slammed it into the top of my head, much like a cartoon gorilla wacking a mole into the hole from which it came. The impact of my head being pushed into my throat made me involuntarily say "KAAAAACKKK"

I dropped to the pavement as a heard a collective "AWWWWWWDAYUUMM" from the hecklers that encircled us. This was far different from the chants of awe in Caesar's Palace I envisioned at the start of this ruckus. As I lay on the ground nose numb with the feeling that the top of my skull had been cracked she grabbed my left pant leg and the left sleeve of my French Toast shirt and began to lift me off the surface. I began to feel the wind and see the faces of onlookers around me begin to spin around me rapidly, but they were not the ones that were moving in a circle. I wanted to scream and beg for her to stop swinging me for what seemed to be infinity, but I did not. When Beasley decided she wanted to stop she let me go on maybe the 18th revolution, and my limp body went flying into a pile of hamster cages.

The embarrassment was so great i had to transfer schools. But i couldn't understand how a style so graceful could be so ineffective against am uncoordinated brute

 

[Papa LaBas]

Drake is proabbly like me, a not tough cat that thinks it's easy to be tough when the need arises
Mike Tyson ruined about 4 years of my life.
I really loved the way he fought, the peak-a-boo style. I never had any boxing training of my own, but i figured if i got in a fight my studying of Tyson fights would be all the training i needed.

One day in school i was hawkin luiges into textbooks and dropping them from the 3rd floor window onto people's heads below. I hit Beasley Mayfield, I large black girl with a jherri curl and stature of a large industrial brick pizza oven. She challenged me to a duel after school, to which I obliged. When we began our waltz she looked me up and down and then i immediately got into my shuffle. I held my fists close to my chin and bobbed and weaved to get into her inside as she threw wild overhand strikes. I envisioned myself as a perfectly chiseled Brooklyn killer ready to eviscerate my victim when her fist punched the back of my hands, knocking my knuckles right into my nose and slightly gapped teeth. I dropped them for an instant as the bottom of her palm and wrist crashed into my nose. I instantly began to smell sulfur and bacon as salty discharges gathered in my eyes, making them fog up and my vision impaired. Beasley then took her fist and slammed it into the top of my head, much like a cartoon gorilla wacking a mole into the hole from which it came. The impact of my head being pushed into my throat made me involuntarily say "KAAAAACKKK"

I dropped to the pavement as a heard a collective "AWWWWWWDAYUUMM" from the hecklers that encircled us. This was far different from the chants of awe in Caesar's Palace I envisioned at the start of this ruckus. As I lay on the ground nose numb with the feeling that the top of my skull had been cracked she grabbed my left pant leg and the left sleeve of my French Toast shirt and began to lift me off the surface. I began to feel the wind and see the faces of onlookers around me begin to spin around me rapidly, but they were not the ones that were moving in a circle. I wanted to scream and beg for her to stop swinging me for what seemed to be infinity, but I did not. When Beasley decided she wanted to stop she let me go on maybe the 18th revolution, and my limp body went flying into a pile of hamster cages.

The embarrassment was so great i had to transfer schools. But i couldn't understand how a style so graceful could be so ineffective against am uncoordinated brute

damn shame that this post might get lost in the sauce

 

[Bledswole]

Just saying breh...you can't call a dude a p*ssy when his team kept stabbing and shooting up your team. What part of the game is that

The stabbing happened once, and it wasn't murder inc doing that shooting stuff, it was Supreme the real gangsta, not ja and irv and black tah, and them.

You got REAL street cats who vouch for 50 being a gangsta in real life, not sure what happened when he got all that money,but Ja and them wasn't doing all that shyt, that was Supreme and street nikkas doin the shooting shyt.


And the nikka who shot 50 died 3 weeks later