Cash Money Hustler VS CPS GONNA KILL YOU broken glass and black tar.

Ca$h Money hands wrapped and isn't wearing his signature white fur coat. B girls are walking around with a garbage bag picking up glass bottles around and inside the arena. A ruff looking metal oil barrel with rough cut top has a black stench smog pouring from it. Shina Scarlet looks on with a curious look on her face and has to ask........

Shina: Girls ? Ca$h Money what are you doing and what is that STENCH !!!(holds her nose trying to contain her stomach contents from pouring out mouth as she inquires) I know you love money but collecting bottles? Most of them broke , you wont get a deposit on them. (she chuckles as Freak Baby sets the bag down.)

Freak Baby gets into Shina face and smirking saysFreak Baby: Well china doll you want see or could demonstrate on that porcelain cake hole.
(reaching into bag for broken bottle to protect her Daddy and because she's not wound to tight to being with. She holds a death grip on the bottle neck almost resting it on Shina's cheek and right eye pinning her against wall afraid to move.)

Ca$h yells : FREAK BABY, DOWN GIRL!! HEEL !! GO CHECK ON TAR. You know you don't want me tell you again.

Freak Baby hangs her head like a scolded hound dog, and lowers her hand to over hand toss bottle against wall right beside with a CRASH!! by the cringing frame of Shina. Cash shoves Freak Baby toward the barrel and points and rears the pimp arm letting her know how close .

Shina: Thanks, Cash. Man she's bit ummm touchy.  So whats the deal Cash?

Cash looks down at Shina: Well it's like this. See I have match with a familiar rivalry. CPS and I came up together not just in hood but in ranks. There been bad blood from back in day trying and do mean trying to f--BEEP with my game. So figured we throw down like we did back in day, Broken glass and black road tar mitts one on one, brotha to brotha, turf vs turf, and hell lot blood n glass mess ALL UP IN THIS.

He thinks he scares people with that weak title to his name. He can't even kill a fordy by himself. He puffed up chump who think he's thug. He's Jersey boy, try push up in Detroit my, home sweet hood and as i remember he limped his sorry ass posse all way back to Jersey aka: the unwiped butt hole of America. Place just stinks even after it rains.

So we just collecting the goods to throw down with throw down, yeah you got me. Feeling that Ghetto nostalgia, like Momma's collard greens, black eye peas with the diced up ham, and her home made Mac n cheese. It's gonna feel good bustin you up and choking you out that Damn tow chain. You know I should be toning down cause of being a Deacon but he who throws first stone, better not cash check ass can't cover...er something like that. That don't make me weak yo I same hard mofo i've always been and you gonna remember unless I whomp you into comma.  Come on ladies, that's enough time hit showers and maybe swing by momma dinner for some soul food.

Shina : Well um enjoy and good luck in your match, Cash.

Ca$h chuckles: Sh --BEEP  I don't need luck, you all might want keep them EMS and Po Po outside waiting to scrape up what's left off the pavement. I might come quite, I might not. Never know guess you all got stay tune and get you brew early.