The monkey named Drake, ready to take over from Kanye as most spoiled, obnoxious ape on the planet, actually fired his PR (doesn't stand for Puerto Rican) team, because he DIDN'T get the cover of Rolling Stone. Why? Not because the mouse-dicked wimps of Rolling Stone didn't agree that a tan face is now necessary to sell their crap-zine. Not because they couldn't indulge their fetish for Brooooose and their solemn following of everything Bono does without selling out to rap monkeys or Boston marathon terrorists. They bumped Drake because Philip Seymour Hoffman died. As they're no longer a music magazine, they rushed to cover the show-biz death.
Drake? He went nuts about it. Why, he was so mad he even...TWEETED. Yes: “I’m done doing interviews for magazines. I just want to give my music to the people. That’s the only way my message gets across accurately.”
Give him points for being literate, which is more than can be said for him when he does that rap-monkey shit of making stupid cripple-finger poses. His latest monkey-ness? He and his POSSE of trouble-making thugs and self-important turd-faces were lording over a hotel, causing trouble. And there he is, with one of those dumbass poses, like it's cool to wave your jagged paw around as if it means anything.
WE'RE STUCK with having to read about rap-monkeys who bellow and shout and sullenly strut around with their HO's. AND...we seem to be stuck with the same boring poses they make. Put it this way, if somebody chopped this jerk's hand off next time he waved it at a camera, I'd applaud with the two good hands I have, which I know how to use properly. Like, for typing angry essays about rap-monkeys who should be cleaning toilets instead of being lead items on "entertainment" news reports.
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