fukk a famous bytch then I treat her just like a ski-oh
Not even worth a shower, just grab me a stick of deo
"How the fukk that shyt get out?" he wanted to know. He was told that Weiner tweeted a picture of his dikk to someone.
"Chicks send me pictures," Ross said. "And I appreciate it! I love all of them. But I don't do that shyt. I'm the Boss." He shook his head, his expression hidden behind his candy-apple-red-framed aviator sunglasses. "Real nikkas don't send dikk flicks."
And in a way Rick Ross was right. Anthony Weiner wanted to live like a boss, though he couldn't admit it to anyone. And that shame was part of the reason he wasn't acting like a boss. Anthony Weiner is not a real nikka, and I think he understands his mistake now.
The visit doesn't involve much more than Rick Ross (and the rest of us) standing up on a banquette throwing money on the floor. I have no idea where the bricks of money come from, but every so often another appears, and Ross throws hundreds and hundreds of never-before-touched $1 bills on the floor. Not with any kind of flourish or fetishistic savor or anything, but like a man feeding pigeons. A man who doesn't even really like pigeons. Eventually, with considerably less enthusiasm than pigeons being fed, some of the strippers migrate over to the Maybach Music area
But the question, which is actually not immediately answerable, is why that's happened. Because (a) while the man does have a way with words (see "The Rossary," below), it's probably not his lyrics. I'm into distribution, I'm like Atlantic, he raps on the song "Hustlin'," I got them mothafukkas flyin' across the Atlantic. Or this, from "9 Piece" (which is a great song regardless): I'm smoking dope, I'm on my cell phone / I'm selling dope, straight off the iPhone. I mean, the man not only rhymes "Atlantic" with "Atlantic," he rhymes "phone" with "phone."