society_kills

bitch fuck you.. i was a felon at 18 for graffiti and grew up with gangster murderers and drug dealers as well as car theifs and thugs. i grew up in the middle east.. yeah mother fucker i wear nothing but name brands and live in the mother fucking hood.\ go fuck your self and step to my click. bitch.

please, please, please, DONT EVER DO DRUGS ESPECIALLY METH>>> ESPECIALLY METH... and if you do meth, dont ever trust the people you do it with and unless you want end up beat raped and dead. real speak children.

yo for real, some fool just robbed my girl for 1200 and threatend to kill and told her he raped her friend. friendly fucking neighborhood huh.....

yo gatita, i really think your mad cool... but uh. my girl just got robbed and some fool threatend to kill her...now its all fucked up. im not joking.

hahahjahhahaahaha..... she bounced... i think you made her hot gliko... that shit was funny... naww really though... talking to guys on 12oz is kinna wack... talking to womens way better cept there is three and they get shook mad easy.... gatita you got shook.....or passed out... either way im drunk and bored.... and i was not trynna do more than entertain my self... bleah...

pussy... i thought you was the "bitch" all headstrong and outspoken... now what? your scared... of what? and you said that shit to...when i first came on 12oz... naww... for real... i was really just after a convo... come on woman, i live in sf.... if i was after ass i would not be on 12oz....

man, come on gliks...its 12oz...its comedy yo... spit game money... really, im tired of talking shit at tease please let me try and have an intelligent drunk convo with a female... really, i got like three girls in real life...im not after her cooch...

so you want prada or Louis Vuitton... personally im all about the Gucci... i mean pradda cool and shit yo, but Louis V got that shit on the luggage nahmsayen... you get out to trains much? me? hell naww...not no more. not after that last state sponsered vacation.

so he be trippen? shit, how many rugrats you got? i raised the exys neicy till 12, yo that girl is trouble last i heard she was beatin up 15 year olds outside the jets... nahmsayen though? so whats up woman, how you maken your moneY? property? fashion? porn? the hustle and drugs? the money and rugs?

ey then, you whan some henny ginger ale... so whatch you doin miss..wheres your man at this evening?

i mean, would can i get you a drink....what was your name again...nawww i didnt just write on that... naww for real.... lets all jock gatita and debate somthing...its 12oz, thats what its for right...

aww shit, and i thought i was gettin dissed... im on west coast time, third forty...its fucking cold yo? so uh... lemme spit game at you gatita and you can diss me... whats up woman, how you doin this evening, you look good...you like drink?

i still like the jaz z broad the best... she cracks me up.. reminds me of this peurto rican honey i messed with... hahhahahhaha... i mean, i got a good mind set example of jay z from his videos but her commentary cracks me up... like "that nigga is mad ugly the fuck i wanna wake up next to his ass for..." i mean, im not gay so i dont rate guys but jay z aint deformed or nothing....honey cracks me up as bitter and jaded as her interpritation comes across nahmsayen? women are somthing else..i mean its cool men are mad scandalous so i hope your woman is as scandalous as you right... she makes me laugh... best one in my opinion...

property investments. small business startups. political implications on the economy regarding the world we live in. fashion. art. shoes. music. freights... what ev... i would thouroughly enjoy a conversation with a headstrong condifdent female... please humor me...

hah....i have not drank in 3 days... i drank heavy... really man..you still live with mom and pops..you cryen cause theys about to break up? mom and pops booted me at 15... i had a felony record at 17 the fuck you wanna talk shit for...i gave you your props sucker... stop being toy and recogize...you have not been through shit as far as i know. motherfucker...bitch what..step you fraudulent cracker that wants to say nigga on the net... for every time i said nigga on the net i said in front of real gangsters...got checked to. say that shit blood...cuzz..... get fucked up you wanna be wood. the fuck time you done toy? money my fams done time in quinton, folsom, chino and a grip of countys...the fuck you know about gangsters bitch? nothing sucker... step the fuck off the slang you cant brang toy... fuck you... go back to your cubicle and continue to fail at getting pussy and make your money and move the fuck out your mommys house and then talk shit ho....... cracker.

shut up you yuppie cracker sidebusting... come to my block faggot.... hahahhaahah... your mom sucks the gardners dick and it hurts your feelings ho...

naww really fool... DO NOT SAY NIGGA. hit delete...hit delete.... trust me on the advice of CRIPS and BLOODS from COMPTON and the FILLMORE. you just dont say that shit unless your father said it. you get beat for that. respect that....motherfucking peckerwood bitch. really though...i got away with saying that shit in my neighborhood, and im truly blessed....you get beat for that in my block. dont say it on the net if you aint gonna roll to the projects and your ward and say it... i said it the projects and remain unscathed which is why i stopped. show respect... you aint no nigga... yous a spoiled ass cracker to scared to be a peckerwood... step off... you done no time.. your a dude.

no wait he sidebusted in 93, my bad. my boy none the less... hella funny, like 8 years later, im kicking it with all these southsiders and it turns out he took the whole click on 13 on 1 pretty much beat the shit out of all them with there tvs and coffee tables and they was like, "yo is it cool?" hella funny shit. you seen that movie American Graffiti? seen that shit christmas night...hahahahahahaahahah.... while looking police reports and shits... get your ass beat if you ever say nigga again tease.

this white ass polish nigga cracka done got pulled for motherfucking two sks with 2 30 round clips and motherfucking 2 40 round clips and a motherfucking 44 long barrel... motherfucker is stacked and fighting the case to... still hates me cause i hated on him for sidebusting my crew in 92

i was born in the south...i mean country is basically like old school red neck rap...being of decent from white rednecks sorta...well not really, more italian irish gangster with some redneck...i appreciate it. anyway... my ass i drunk...my boy got pulled for all his weapons..like mad guns yo,, MAD GUNS...im like damn your nazi ass is doing like 8 years unless you spend 80 grand on lawyers and his ass just came up on 80 grand to... its funny, hes mad polish..moved here from poland at four and decided to become a nazi, but he kicks it with black gangsters who are cool with it... but yo mad arms got pulled yo...and im like damn money, i thought you had my back with your 63 round clips, now all you got is rattle snakes and swords... motherfucking cops yo...' my ass i drunk and signing out............ peace.

i recall back in 99 when Begr and Geb signed my book along with Topr, Bleek, Qauke, Chez, Natrl and others at a Lords meeting one friday night... Begr was like..."BTP, yo Posh called me, you know ima rep that..." Much Respect allways proper...

i just listened to 20 tears of fears tracks on repeat for four hours. im going to stop and get away from the vortex that 12oz is . thanks for alleviateing sp???? my bad mood 12oz. that and 80 oz of olde english charcol filtered malt liqour. shout, let it all out, everbody wants to rule to world and its a mad mad world. i need a 19 year old pussy thats fine to bury my face in hesh style.. PEACE!

Johnny Cash and Hank Williams Jr. got money on it holmes. open your mind youngstah.

The worst "Anal Sex Accident" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply to: anon-51760058@craigslist.org Date: Thu Dec 09 10:52:08 2004 Never have anal sex after a fish dinner. Most people contract some form of food poisoning at least once a year. Most of the time the symptoms are mild, and can even be mistaken for a 24 hour flu bug. Other times, the symptoms are similar to one having a very bad case of the flu, but rarely do people ever need to go to the hospital for food poisoning. Just by its nature, the probability of contracting food poisoning from fish is always higher than most other foods. This is why, based on personal experience, I recommend that no one ever engage in anal sex after your date ate a large fish dinner. We hadn’t been dating that long, only about a month. Even though we'd only been dating a short time, we were having sex since the second date, and it was the best, freakiest, porno-style sex of my life. Seriously, this was the kind of sex that every man, deep down, dreams about having at least once in his life. It was the kind of sex that I had wished for ever since my voice started changing. It was with this woman, and only with this woman, that I was ever addressed with the phrase, “Use your whole fist for Christ’s sake.” On one now infamous date night, we were enjoying a romantic dinner at an upscale seafood restaurant. Through the entire meal, however, sex was all that was on our minds. In retrospect, every date we ever went on seemed to just be a temporary diversion from the best part of the night, which involved animalistic insertions, feral lickings and brazen misuse of food products. We emptied wine bottle after wine bottle over the course of the dinner, and by the time the main course arrived, fish for her and lobster for me, she slipped off her shoes and casually masturbated me under the table with her stocking covered feet. Completely plastered and horny by the end of the meal, we decided to skip dessert in the restaurant because a much sweeter dessert “was being prepared in her hot, wet crotch,” she said. I paid the bill and narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket, not to mention a DUI, during the drive back to my place. By the time we got into my apartment, we were tearing each other’s clothes off. Sloppy in our drunkenness, we knocked over two lamps during our horny, groping journey into the bedroom. Once in the bed, she got down on all fours, arched her back, and presented her delicious ass to me. I grunted my approval while aiming my rock-hard cock missile at her hairy silo. When the head of my cock began to penetrate her lips, she stopped me. “No. In my ass,” she hissed at me, sounding both horny and angry at the same time. “Are you sure,” I asked? She giggled as she said, “If I could handle last night. . .” Oh yeah, I thought. Last night’s adventure involved a clown mask, three packets of Pop Rocks, and a twenty-inch replica of the Eiffel Tower. What the hell was I thinking? Of course she could handle some anal-action. She reached between her legs and began lubing up her asshole with her own pussy juices. Where did I find this girl? I thought. I was in horn-dog heaven. Blessed. Not being an expert in anal intrusion, I slowly eased my way into her lovely stink-star. First the head, then a quarter of the shaft, and soon I was buried to the hilt between her ass-cheeks. “Go slowly,” she said, half moaning, half panting in both pleasure and pain, I think. I did as she bid, and very slowly began pulling out, like a steam piston on an old locomotive beginning its first run in a century. Almost all the way out of her, but keeping the head firmly planted in her ass-iris, I slowly began inserting again. “Yeeeeees!” she moaned and began diddling her clit. Soon she said, “Faster.” So faster I went, the tempo increasing until the train was running at full speed, the piston pumping in and out so fast my cock became a complete blur, her hand rubbing her clit like she was trying to start a friction-fire in her pussy. “Gnnnnnnnah!” she screamed. Thinking she was close to orgasm, I pumped that ass even faster, faster than Amish meth-head churns butter. “Gnnnnnahstoooop,” she screamed, or something like this, because the noise in my head was drowning out the reality around me, for in my head I heard a steam locomotive, chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga-Woo-Woo! Barreling down the tracks, and somehow I pumped even faster. “YES!” I screamed. She started reaching behind her and flailing on the bed in what I thought was ecstasy— “—Stop!” she screamed, able to finally get out the word I had mistaken for groans of ecstasy moments ago. She screamed this with such volume and guttural, primal force that it had the effect of pulling the emergency brake on a 100,000 pound locomotive running at full speed. The sex act squealed to a halt, and I pulled my cock out of her ass like the rip-cord on a parachute. Did someone order champagne? No, that popping noise was my cock coming out of her ass. “Arrrrrrgh!” She screamed, as I yanked my cock free. And then it happened. Immediately after my cock popped out, I was sprayed from belly to thighs with watery, fish-smelling diarrhea. “What the—-?” I said, not able to get the word ‘fuck’ out of my mouth because of my shock at the brown funk lining my body. As she sprayed me, she seemed to be propelled forward by the force of the jet-propelled diarrhea, and she collapsed onto her stomach. “Oh. My. Fucking. God.” I murmured, completely shell-shocked. Everything was still. I could hear my wind-up alarm clock ticking on my dresser. I stared at my shit-covered body. I surveyed the room to see if there was any collateral damage. The trajectory of the diarrhea spray was similar to buck-shot in a sawed-off shotgun; it was everywhere. Unfortunately, during the sex act she had been facing the feet-side of the bed, which meant that the headboard, my bedside table and lamp had poop on them as well. Even my bedside clock had a few speckles staining its face. The bed sheets: Killed in Action. A total loss. I looked at my date, lying there motionless. I called her name. No response. I called her name while shaking her a bit. Nothing. Fear shot through me, as I thought, “Oh my god, what if she’s dead?” But this fear quickly dissipated when I heard her snoring. She was passed out from the wine. I on the other hand was no longer blasted drunk, because the blast from her ass rendered me completely sober. This night was definitely going down in the (ahem) annals as the all time worst date of my life. In fact, I had to invent a new special category, “Even the Devil would feel sympathetic,” to describe this night. I cleaned up. I cleaned her up. I cleaned the headboard, the dresser, the lamp and the clock. With some manipulation of her passed out body, I was able to wrangle the sheets from the bed and throw them down the garbage chute. By two in the morning, I found myself lying on my couch, drinking Jack Daniels from the bottle. I don’t remember passing out myself, but I can say that unconsciousness didn’t come soon enough. “It was food poisoning,” her voicemail message explained to me the next day. After some silence, she added, “The fish.” More silence. “Sorry.” She left this message the following day, around 2:00 p.m. I had slept until Noon, and, thank God, she was gone when I woke up. How do you face that? She never called me again. I never called her. I definitely learned two valuable lessons that night: 1) Never have anal sex after a sea food dinner. 2) Be careful what you wish for. There’s only one other experience in my life that entered into the “Even the Devil would feel sympathetic” category, and frankly I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell that story. Let’s just say that the morning after a great one-night-stand, the beautiful woman you banged the night before can certainly use your bathroom. . .but she shouldn’t be more comfortable standing up while she pees.

i heard ESEL hit every bridge in LA.