It’s 2015, bitches, and I’m listening to Claude mother fucking Debussy, alright? Ok? What you know about that shit? Nothing.
Hey man sometimes I wonder if I’m still going to be talking like this when I’m forty. I think it will be worse to talk like this when I’m forty than to talk like this when I’m eighty. Maybe not.
I’ll be all like, “Hey, it’s my grand daughter! What’s up bitch! How’s tricks? Yeah fuck your first grade classmates, bunch of dick suckin ingrates, yo. Shit.”
But hey, fuck it, it’s only 2015, got time to figure out a different way of expressing myself. Besides there will probably be no need for anybody to calm down by the time I’m eighty. Be in some dire straights by that point. All language will consist of by then is:
“Holy fuck did you see that shit!”
“What shit? This shit or that shit? I seen some fucked up shit all over the place!”
“Ah fuck all this shit is fucked!”
“Is all of it fucked? Fuck it is! Man that’s some old fucked up shit!”
Yeah the future’s probably going to be a bitch.