So, I was just sitting here the other day, with really, really baited breath, playing some Dick Tracy on the NES. When the fish in the lake behind my house were all like, “Yo’, nigga’, I be smellin’ some mighty fine bait, dawg. Let’s go get some O’ dat shit, mo’fohka’.”
So they got up and out of the lake, and drove their golf carts up to my front door, whereupon they rang my doorbell. I answered, and they were all “Hey man, your breaff be baited, homie.”
And I was all like “Yeah, nigga’, Est be teasin’ me by sayin’ she’s comin’ down to Florida.”
And then they said “You know how hoes be.” And then I punched him in the neck for saying that. They then asked me to eat them because my they wanted some “O’ dat shit.” I refused out of spite, even though I love fish. Instead I shot them, and ran over their corpses with my car. True story. Shit was so cash.