Got an iPhone
Well… My family got me an iPhone for Christmas. Then I downloaded this app… Now I’m testing it. Exciting!
storr - Sea of Stars | goodRAM Productions
My new sounds
Big Guy Bass Bass | stephen-orr-1
Beat Jake and I are working on.
O’Connells and Guinness
Well… My family got me an iPhone for Christmas. Then I downloaded this app… Now I’m testing it. Exciting!
I made this song after Jake showed me how to sample songs to the musical typing keyboard in Garageband. Sorry if the timing is horrible.. I made it at work and had to be quiet.. Shhhhhhh
Dear Drake,
Today I checked out Pitchfork to see what album reviews they had posted for today. Not surprisingly, I noticed your face sitting atop that stack of album covers so many have become accustomed to. I figured, “Hey! There has to be at least one intelligent person still writing album reviews for this website” and hoped that your new album had received at least less than a 5.
Bad, bad Pitchfork..You give drake an 8.6?? I could put up with months and months of stories about bands nobody cares about (seriously, nobody cares about the Wavves), but now you move on to giving that Poser CANADIAN credit? Sure, I respect Weezy’s talent… but not his ability to find it.
Moving on… Just in case you haven’t watched that video above of yourself (DRAKE) it basically shows how you aren’t any of the things you say in your songs. It makes sense that you might think you are “Gangster” or “Fly” consider you are probably one of 20 black people in Canada, but let me assure you… that you are not. You represent a problem occurring in hip-hop… Artists like Dre and B.I.G. were rapping about real life and the struggles they faced and dues they paid to become the best. Now all rappers do is rap about what they have, how much of it they have, and how you can’t get it.
What did you do to deserve the status you’ve gained in the hip-hop community? Got rich playing a handicapped nerd on Canadian children’s television? Ohh but it’s okay because Weezy says so. Maybe you should take a page out of Weezy’s book and “accidentally” shoot yourself in the chest… or wherever.
So if you’re annoyed with yourself, go ahead and check a couple pictures down on that album cover stack you sit atop today, for The Cool Kids mixtape “Tacklebox” which some wanna-be-like-the-big-boy-jackasses Pitchfork writer gave a 6.0. At least they were never on Degrassi.
An Open Letter to the Shakespeare’s Bartender from Saturday Night
What’s up bro? Just to let you know there are no hard feelings from the other night. I understand that the restaurant business can be stressful. Oh yea… and sorry for the tile in the bathroom… when I kicked the wall I didn’t expect the tile to fly off the other side… Still, for some reason I feel it is necessary for you to understand my side of the story:
First of all, let me refresh your memory as to who I am. So my friends and I were waiting patiently for our drinks as you “made your way” around the bar. (Which by the way was pretty impressive considering your girth and the size of the Shakespeare’s bar) When our turn arrived we asked for 3 car-bombs. You told us you didn’t have Guinness at that bar. Cool so we’ll take a… Whoa dude… Where are you going!? Oh alright… you’re going to do another go-around… there are no other options for us besides car-bombs…
Whatever… I’m not that heated… SOOO back to the waiting game… after making sure every lovely lady at the bar was good on drinks while attempting to flirt with them… you quickly make your way around to the group right in front of us… if you want attention from the ladies maybe you should go back to the piercing shop and ask for bigger gauges… girls love gauges. Oh wait! 10 minutes spent arguing with your buddy about whether or not he’s going to accept the free drinks you’re giving him? That’s totally fine I’ll wait for that.
Alright! Our turn again! Finally some drinks! Okay so my friend orders a couple drinks and gets them just fine… As I watched that tangled mass of greasy hair fall over your earrings and plugs while you “walked” (waddled) over towards me I almost felt a small amount of hope… Until you passed me right over for the same girls that shot you down before… as they were shooting you down for probably the 10th time I attempted to get your attention to inform you that I would like to get a drink and it was my turn. Which you ignored.
So am I mad at this point? Maybe a little… but I see another spot at the bar maybe I can get your attention from… So I head over there… as you quickly make your way to that spot (chicks must not be feeling the sweaty cottage cheese legs stuffed into skinny jeans look tonight) I flag you down. Before I can say anything you snapped “I can’t help you dude,” and then pretended like you were busy by holding an empty bottle and clanging it around in the sink.
NOW. This is the part that might jog your memory. Ignorance ensued and I must apologize for the insults I louded spewed in your direction. Sorry for the following:
- Calling you a “Fat Motherfucker”
- Yelling “Skinny Jeans are for Skinny people”
- Implying that your ear gauge size was relative to that of your penis
Before I go I feel I must reconcile our differences and give you some advice that you should take to that presumably nacho cheese filled heart of yours. If you want to get girls, leave the underage drunk ones be. Unless you’re looking for a rape charge slapped on your ass. Also… dressing trendy does not cover up the fact that you are a fat sweaty filthy asshole working at a pizza place. The way to get girls (who wont throw up halfway through the alcohol induced coma fuck you had strategically orchestrated with the help of free PBR and Jaeger shots) is to stop wasting all your time shopping for trendy clothes, getting tattoos, and “stretching” out your ears with the smallest size gauges they sell, and go out and exercise… Those maybe skinny jeans on you, but they would look like JNCOs if 90% of the people in america tried them on.