Damn, Where My Locz At?

by Jimmy Fresh

So, dis morning I be waking up wit' my head spinnin' like they ain't gonna be no tomorrow. I gotz to get up and ballz, but afta a late night of partyin' wit da homies all night long - hah, dat'z crazy G. So I throw on the gear cuz you know I am a balla, wit' my Air Jordan kicks on my feet and my Ballin' Kobe'z in my gym bag - can't be ruinin' demz. Sportin' my Olowokandi jersey, size 52 XXL for all y'all not knowin', and then my ankle shorts. I look out and it be sunny. Damn, what a G s'pposed to do? Yeah, I know, wear his locz - but jigga, where they be at? I knew I wore them last night to dat party, but where are they now? Damn, they gone. I guess I can't go ballin'. Like any good investigator I better sit down and re-think last night, and firgure out exactlyz what happenedz...

11 pm and jus' rollin' up to 23901 Walnut Ave in da Shaw in Sweet'z black Navi, Prince Aceop in the back with tha ladies, ya know. So at this point, I be reachin' for my locz in the pocket of my Fubu jacket - you know that's what I be sportin'. Pull that ice out from under my shirt and it'z party time Gz! So we step into a mothersucka and we get mobbed as usual, from all the groupies and suckaz, signin' autographz and stuff, and I remember seein' dis fine honey coming down tha stairz. So I make my approach, tilt the shadez and say, "Hey baby, what you say we bounce on up out of dis?" Of course she like "Fo-sho," but then I remembaz tha Prince callin' me down. So I told tha ho that I'd get back wit' her, took her two-way info, cuz ya know I gotz me a Motorola Two-Way right. So I head on down to see what a jigga wants, and he just be commentin' on how his Trickz done got beat by my Clippaz. I was like Knickerbocka pleaze, just like in dat commercial, I got mo' razzle dazzle den all dem suckaz in the NBA. So den I head to tha kitchen to get me some Gin and some of that juice, cuz real thugz only be drinkin' they Alize or they 40z. And they say beer befo' liquor ain't good, so I start thangz off right, ya know. I meet up wit Seandell, who be blazin' it up in the garage wit' Big Balla Ray and Gansgta Matt up in dis. So what do I do, ya know the time. Den the Prince of Aceopia come rollin' through and blowz up da joint. Wait - iz dat D-Sweet goin' crazy in a cypha!? Damn, I getz me up in dat too...

Yo! Yo! Wait up, wait up as I think of a flow
Something that will make you say "Woah!"
Damn bro, how you done say that
I wish I was recordin' so I could replay that
Something crazy, almost rehearsed
But then I got cut off by Brookz, man he tha worst
So I overpower 'em wit' my distinct rappin' voice
Spittin' on tha homiez, thangz gettin' moist
Gettin all into this mothersuckin' cypher
Got Pistol Pete Street, trying to decipher
The lyrics that I spit out on that very special night
But then, all of a sudden, a crazy ass fight...

So me and Sweet split from the cipher to see what was going down - lookz as if Sick Nick and Rudgekiss done rolled up pullin' ninez and shankz. But that fool Prince teamed up wit' Battz and L-Dogg to teach them suckaz not to come into tha hood trippin'. Luckily fo' Rudgekiss we all cool, so we done kicked it wit him, but those foolz was secondz away from beatin' him down too. We done left Ill Nick in the front and went back in to tha pad, where "Get Off" was bumpin' on the Surround Sound Jensenz.

So then I see that ho again, but I don't let her front when she turnz away. I say, "Sorry for runnin' baby." Where were we? Remember, this is after four Alizez and two 40z, so I be buzzin' right about now. She takez me up to Magic'z room, and - surprise - it'z tha Regulator tappin' some ho.

"Oh shmack! What up thug!?" So the ladiez vacate as I have a toast wit my homie. We start talking bout "Cradle II the Grave 5", ya know, and then I getz a call on my phone. It can't be Seandell, he here. But it iz, that fool want to know where I am - he in da garage still. So I head down to see what tha dilly, still wearin' my locz. Then a knock at tha door...

Me: Who iz it?
Po-Po: Da Po-lice mothersucka, open dis!
Me: What?! Whatchyou want?
Po-Po: Open up, there's been a report!

BANG BANG

Damn, capz iz flying! Someone is shootin', so I run to the back to meet up with Dickie and Prince, wit my gat in my hand just in case Po-Po trip on me. We take the back route to the black Navi and we out. Po-Po surroundin' the scene, one even stopped us fo' autographz on our way sneaking out. What a sucka.

That'z it - I must have lost dem in the Navi, cuz when we was drivin' out of tha spot I saw that groupie again, lookin' fine, being taken away in cuffz. I took off my locz to give her a wink and tell her I would 2-way. Damn...It'z all good tho, they in the Navi! I'll just ring up Sweetnutz.

RING RING

D-Sweet: Helllllooooo?
Me: Jyeahhhhh.
D-Sweet: Jyeahhhhhh.
Me: Hey G, my locz in yo truck?
D-Sweet: Yeahhhhhh.
Me: Aight, come by - we ballin', pick a jigga up and we out.
D-Sweet: LaMert?
Me: Jyeahhhh, late.
D-Sweet: Late.

And that's all folks. I done figured it out. Scotland Yiz-nard, here I comez. Ron Darling da part-time Private Eye. Wait a minute, a new alias? Craaaazyyyy!