Ben Simmons Is Officially Dead to Me
Ben Simmons is officially dead to me. I watched his Showtime documentary this weekend and needless to say he’s a total bag. This fucking clown is sitting in a studio surrounded by microphones whining about how he was exploited by the NCAA while he makes a movie about himself for a major television network. The irony.
Next thing I know, this bag steals my girl from me.
Tinashe is the hottest chick in the game that gets no recognition for being an absolute ten.
This is probably due to the fact that her music is not great and she has yet to receive any level of main stream success. Not even my buddies Metro Boomin or Young Thug could make Tinashe great.
Hey Tinashe, I’ve got a message for you…
You want to save your career all you have to do is one thing…
Make a song with Kaytranada and you’re a star.
Continue to make lackluster albums and you’ll only be known as the chick that’s boning Ben Simmons.
Back to old Benny boy, I’ve got two words for you buddy. POP OFF.
I’ve spent a ton of time in the past 9 months looking at your girl’s Instagram page. Tinashe has her fingerprints all over my spank bank and now I can’t even think about her without knowing she’s getting fucked by an overhyped loser who’s dick probably smells like a philly cheesesteak.
You’ve officially been added to my list of enemies. News flash, I don’t just conquer my enemies. I murder them. Isaiah Thomas…dead. Darren Rovell is scared to leave his cave once I uttered his name from my list, the entire Midwest is dying of hypertension right now as we speak.
You’re next buddy. Sleep with one eye open. And for Tinashe, as far as I’m concerned you’re damaged goods now. At least, I know I’ll always have Lisa Salters by my side
Lenny Hamilton knew the spread last night and killed me. Murdered me, ran me over with his truck and had the motherfucking Florida State racist mascot do the dumbass chop over my dead carcass while they lowered me 6 feet under.
