I don’t think I want to be team captain anymore.  I mean shit, all a captain does is talk to the refs and talk up the new bitches still wet behind the ears.  Well fuck, I can’t stand the refs.  Come to think of it, I can’t stand all the young guys either.  Shit, I’m Big Shot Jack not Captain Jack.  The only Captain Jack for me is this sweet fucking sound.  Yeah, Captain Jack.  He’ll get you high tonight.  Damn straight boy.  And that nigga’ll even take you to your special island.  Fuck yo, I gotta pump up the bass on this Billy Joel shit, that little wigger be thumpin’.  What is he pushin? Two, naw, four decibels?  Crazy yo, crazy.

Fuck Nellie.  Seriously, FUCK Nellie.  The nigga’s a punk bitch.  Fined for motherfucking cursing?  You fucking kidding me?  Shit, all Nellie fucking does is curse!  I thought my fucking name was Ufuk for the first six weeks I knew the fuck.  It aint right.  Bitch, it aint fucking right!   I mean, who the fuck does he fucking  think he is?  That Hawaii 5-0 love’n beardless motherfucking Santa Clause better check his fucking ass.

Oh,  I’m thinking it might be about time I semi-acknowledge little Tyreke.  LaShawndelle is giving me way to much shit about it and her booty is way too fine.  I’ll send him a pair of signed sneakers, maybe take him to the barber to get some  rows going.