I cum out from da streets knocking nigas out...

i cum out from da streets knocking nigas out. I swear to fuckin God I b crackin the first face of bich nigga who wana step up. On my momz. Aint no pussy ass bitch given me no face. Bitch nigga its cracking! Like u want some. Nigga, you want some? I got something for you. Its gonna be the end for you.
I don give a fuck bout no pussy ass bich ass hatin ass faggit ass fuck boy tryina grind in on mine- NO. Seven shots. Each for u and yours- i promise. I grew up on N Lincoln and Broadway- its all a stage for real. I feel like I’m the only one thats real, 100%. I will drop every1 in your blood, the family tree ends with me, you heard. Hang you up like the South. I’m that nigga in the hood wearing all white, thats a all white hoodie.
You a bitch ass faggot ass pussy ass punk bitch. And if I see you praying for mercy, I can see it. Catch me on a bad day, thats your’e last day. Aint no fuck boy making no bitch outta me this is 100% savage shit and you don’t fucked up looking over here.
Thats right, and you look down. Look to the dirt or get dropped son. I drop you so quick make your head spin. The fuck you doing lookin at me? Trust this - You don’t want this. You don’t even know, thats the problem. Punk ass bitch think he know- you thought mothefucka bout to take your little kid looking ass to school, bout to give your momma and sista the D, bout to pull the roots off your hole family tree. Savage life bitch.

>what do you guys think Developing this voice for a narrative novel/ srsly

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WHY?! WHY MUST YOU TORMENT ME SO WITH THESE JEZEBELS? All I want to do is come here for an asexual experience that will exercise my brain but I am constantly titillated by these vixens with their prodigious hips and provocative figures. Can I never satiate this thirst, will I ever know the touch of a woman and enter between her loins? Will my seed ever drip from her moistened hole?

Life is a constant hell. No wonder I resent women too.

Fucken SICK dubs my Brahma from another llama.

I hope your novel is about a nerdy white lanky lit student who wants to follow in DFWs footsteps, and live for a few months in the ghetto to get a feel for the characters of his story, inspiration, and material

I hope your novel is about a nerdy white lanky lit student who wants to follow in DFWs footsteps, and live for a few months in the ghetto to get a feel for the characters of his story, inspiration, and material

she's a killer and a sweet thing

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>tfw ywn

If there is a relation between a writer’s physiological rhythm and his manner, there is a fortiori a relation between his temporal universe and his style. The classical writer, citizen of a linear, delimited time whose frontiers he never crossed—how could he have produced a jerky, jarring style? He saved up words, lived on them at home. And these words reflected for him the eternal present, that tense of perfection which was his own. But the modern writer, no longer having a resting place in time, must affect a convulsed, epileptic style.