When you’re in the business of sex, you have to put up with some pretty weird shit from time to time.
Once a client gets a sordid idea in his head involvin’ one of my girls, there ain’t nothin’ a nigga can do to change his mind.
See, every so often, a fella comes knockin’ at my door seekin’ a special kind of service, ya feel? Somethin’ that deviates from the traditional, good old-fashioned hook up.
Heh heh.
I remember this one time a cracka turned up at my crib lookin’ for exactly that.
This dupe arrived on my porch with a dog collar fastened tightly around his neck. Naturally, I suspected him to be some kind of sacerdotal screwloose wantin’ to carry out the Lord’s work by injectin’ my veins with a big, fat dose of God.
As it turned out, this motha focker couldn’t have been further away from a religious conviction if he tried.
He didn’t come knockin’ for the Lord to save me from sin… He came knockin’ for one o’ my floozies to dish his servile white ass up with a big plate of punishment pie, ya feel me?
Heh heh heh.
Yo, Grimskull, you know you remind me a lot of that brotha who came callin’ round my cat house.
From what I already know about you, there ain’t nothin’ you enjoy more than havin’ a good time at your own expense.
Like him, you be givin’ us all that same look o’ shame, dawg.
With people like you, bein’ on the receivin’ end of a self-subscribed beatin’ is what livin’s all about, ain’t it? You don’t kick up a fuss or put others in harm’s way to save your own skin.
Instead, you consensually offer yourself up to others, bowin’ down at their mercy and sentencin’ yourself to a servitude of punishment.
Unlike real men who choose to prosper in positions of power and privilege, the pleasure you seek derives from the dependencies and subordination of others.
They say jump, you say how high, then you turn over and take it up the proverbial from those greater than your sermonic tirades pretend to be.
You can sit there on your high fockin horse, moralisin’ and lecturin’ the good people of Arcadia all you like, Priest; you’re no babe in the woods or victim.
Nah… You’re just another false prophet, down on his luck because of the shitty hand God has dealt you.
Heh heh heh.
But if it’s punishment you want, motha focker, it’s punishment you’ll receive.
At Clash 305, the pain your skull will endure as it collides with reinforced steel, Grim, will be just the beginning of your suffering.
I will bend your pale ass over and give your Booty a Call like it’s never had.
I’ll embarrass, humiliate, and destroy you in front of your congregation.
In truth, I’ll give you exactly what you want, holmes.
Because if there’s one thing you should know about Big Slim, Grimmy, it’s that he always practices what he preaches.
And come Monday fockin night…
Lord knows it ain’t gonna be no white boy day.