You beat the shit out of me last New Year's Eve. You're diet consists of alcohol, meth and blow. Yeah. You're quite the treat there pal. Keep pretending you're a 'baller' and make some REAL money skating that white trash around the hood.
I ran as fast as I could from your sorry, psycho ass. Now you're stalking my friends and continuing to make my life a living hell.
Douche Lord, Master of the Tweekers, PLEASE JUST STOP.
Its over. Move on. I sure as hell have...
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