OK, OK. I'M A CRACK WHORE. I CONFESS.

WOO HOO!!! SHIT...I'M SO HIGH I THOUGHT MY PIPE HAD TURNED INTO A FUCKING COCK!

There is no greater friend of CRACK then the mens at MACK AVENUE SKULLGAME. WithOUT Crack our lives would be largely devoid of purpose. Especially if by "purpose" you mean the cash we get from selling it and the ho's we bang who buy it. But while we were counting pennies, poking pussy and thinking we were laughing all the way to the bank, these fucking cluckers at CRACK HO CONFESSIONS were actually filming it and thereby making cash on a heretofore undiscovered revenue stream. Undiscovered by US that is.

Now we ain't going to player hate. Noooooo....sob bitterly and rail at a cruel and unjust God who has denied us this thick tributary of cash currents? Well, yes. But player hate? No.

No fucking way.

Because every bit of misery over every dollar we've not made is more than offset by every bit of joy we feel when we stroll down the street of broken dreams and crack. Man, oh man. Hot bitches on the start of their personal slide down. Hot bitches in the midst of that long slide. Hot bitches down so long that it looks like up to them. All smoking crack. All sucking cock. All getting poked.

Shit, we haven't had this much fun since MICHAEL JACKSON's hair caught on fire.

As addictive as the drug whose benefits it touts: proceed with caution.