Like mose kids, I used to enjoy chowin’ down my fair share o’ sweets.
Every evenin’, after school, me an’ my homies would swing by the local candy store an’ fill our pockets full o’ toothsome treatsies.
The joint was run by diss crazy old cracka who’d stand behind the counter an’ stare you the fock out whilst you flexed around his store, ya feel me?
As such, the boys an’ I would have to come up wit’ ways to distract him before makin’ our move on his sugary wares.
Once we’d caught the old fella off guard, we’d each grab a handful of our favourite sweet meats an’ get da fock out of there before the ol’ bastard had a chance to clock what we was up to.
Ya know, it’s funny, cos at the time I didn’t think about da kinda shit we were pullin’ much at all, ya naw?
Me an’ my G’s would eat, sleep an’ repeat the same cycle five nights a week without second’s fockin thought.
But – as I got older an’ became more aware o’ what an addictive personality was – I soon came to realise that mine had all stemmed from those early years robbin’ the old man’s motha fockin candy store, yo.
Heh heh heh.
Ya see, despite what society tries to tell us, Teddy Bear, there ain’ much difference between someone like me an’ someone like you, dawg.
For people dat choose to believe everythin’ their motha fockin eyes read, those niggas would have themselves thinkin’ that someone like me is the bad guy in all of this. They see the drugs, they hear about the sex, and their ill-educated asses put two an’ together.
Folks here in Arcardia find out about the kind o’ commodities I try to push an’ they paint me as some kind of fockin enabler, whereas you? Yo white ass is seen in a totally different light to Big Slim, simply because you be sellin’ legalised goods to reputable sources in the so-called common market.
Truth is, motha focker, that it’s the likes of you that gives the likes of me a bad fockin name around here.
If people just opened their motha fockin eyes they’d see that it’s you, not me, preyin’ on people’s senses an’ takin’ advantage when they be too young to know any better.
You give them that sweet tooth, Teddy Bear. You put your arm around them an’ personally place the monkeys on their back,s knowin’ full fockin well that they’ll never be able to rid themselves of it, and then you sail off down your chocolatey river – far, far away from responsibility – whilst I bear the brunt of the bullshit that follows.
Only not this time, homie, and not on this nigga’s watch.
It may have been the likes of you that turned me to addiction in the first place, but the only thing I’m cravin’ Monday night is beatin’ your pale ass black an’ fockin blue.
Cos the Candy Man can say what he likes.
But it ain’ gonna be no white boy day.