sure do, two .22's in my shoes

Laws do not apply to me. I'm like the prodigal freakin son of goddamn mayor bloombergo. I guess some back story is necessary.

Yesterday I went to court. I was 'summoned' there, as it were. And so I went to fight an erroneous persecution by the powers that be jerks. I guess some back story is necessary.

So right, this one time I was mad illin with Reba on the roof of her building. We were having a marvelous time checkin out the view, when all of a sudden the fuzz came bursting out the roof door with flashlights and tickets drawn.



Unbeknownst to us, or the group of pot-smokin hipstersauruses who were also up there, the roof had just become private property--even to the people who live in the building.

So the poh issued a trespassing ticket to Reba. And then they give me an 'open-container violation,' saying something like I was "drinking this really big can of delicious danish beer, you know the one with the viking on it" or something. Jerks. I think the hipsters hid their pot smokings, so only I got the open container violaysh. I didn't say anything though cause of no snitches.



SOOOO, back to yesterday, I stomped into court repeating to myself: "we're gonna beat this thing. We are gonna beat this thing!"

I waited in a long line with other offenders who were there with similar feelings ("I told that cop I wasn't smokin nothin in that hallway, and I said 'taste it, taste my cup, it ain't no liquor! There wasn't no liquor in that cup!' Not guilty!")

Got to the window and punk behind the counter said: "Your case was dismissed sir. Go home, have a nice day."



Boomshakalaka-shakalaka-shakaboom, I do what I want. I'm gonna go start a methlab in the Statue of Liberty's foot.