You can't ever be sure in MS. Shanks are like condoms. It's better to have one and not need it, than to need one and not have it!!!

LMAO:D (and driving to get a shank:cool: )

Aiigght...I am ret to roll. How many people can whoop some kids' @zz and still not get wrinkle the crisp white Polo pants and shirt? Lest we not forget box cutters, razor blades, switchblades, and any other form of beat downs that have not been mentioned. If my Kappa Leaguers EVER thought they was gonna come with some isht like that...I might forget who they are.

And I better not have to RUN after them either. Lawd, if I break a nail, all hayle is breakin' loose!!!

Make sure u get the one with the duct tape around the handle. W/ all that grease on dat girls lips your hands might get slippery.

You are krazy for real!!:D

What I want to know is how are ya'll planning to whoop some kids and not get your hands or clothes dirty? Kicking a child in the head is dirty work. You can scuff your shoe or get their blood on your clothes.

When you've been in my business as long as I have, it becomes second nature. You can whoop some azz, but never "let 'em see ya sweat".

Yes, I can whoop tail, fry chicken, do my taxes, and type this post at the same time.

And still manage to dodge chicken grease, or ink stains on my clothes while smelling like fresh cologne.

And not sweat the creases out of my fresh Polo slacks.

Most people don't realize that it is an art to azz whoopins! My moms was the queen. She would beat me down and then leave for work in the morning lookin' like she just stepped off a perm box!

My mom would whoop the hell out of us while cooking the dinner we would have to eat, still breathing hard w/ snot running down out our nose. Needless to say she never burned the rice...

*** dropping DEAD @*** "like she just stepped off a perm box":D

Moms are good that way. Go figure. And Lord help you if you didn't eat every bit that was on that snotty, tear-wet plate.

*sigh*

I am so happy to be grown sometimes, lol. Not that I still don't have the fear of Mom, but I can buy my own food now, so...that helps.

For real! My mom would beat my azz and then flip that hair back and be like, "Shut all that up! Now imma be late for work! C'mon!" Now I gotta go to school with blood shot eyes, asthmatic breathing, and dried up tears on my face! So who says now-a-days you can't whoop an azz or two or three?