Ok, when shall we meet for a drive?  Who say's Pub runs can only happy
in Pommie-Land!

T308

Somehow The Honorable 50 Cent does a little better than that ....

How you gonna take this? like a Man or a bitch?
you gon' get it on nigga or you gon' snitch?
I represent niggas in the hood gettin' rich
man, I stack chips and I unload clips
after 3 Summers in the joint I thought life was hard
some niggas started fightin', some niggas found God
you know me, started sellin' leek in the yard
yo, I ran into niggas who used to have Hummers
big as Hell in the joint wearin' '86 numbers
damm Dog, you been in here that long?
you could think that, but say that and yo' a.s is dead wrong
a convo is only three words, "yo whattup"
you ain't gotta work out to leave this bitch cut up
let a nigga find out you on some goin' home sh.t
and you tryin' to bounce without payin' a loan, sh.t
some niggas beat cases on the strength of they cream
after the witnesses disappeared on the strength of they team
I'm hard as Hell to get along wit' so it never fails
a nigga I got beef with end up in the same jail
he had a L rolled in bible paper blowin' the lye
I sent him a little kite just to be blowin' his high
and when I shot you in NewYork why would I box you now?
If I catch you in the yard I'm'a ox you down
niggas you think is real really can't hold they own
I'll have 'em on some E.T. sh.t tryin' to phone home
in here a gemstar is like a Nine Milly chrome
it's similar, infact they'll both split ya dome
scars are souvenirs, niggas always take 'em home.

[Chorus]
You got blown over the jack? (that ain't gangsta)
Your Man ran when you got clapped? (that ain't gangsta)
rockin' a vest with no gat? (that ain't gangsta)
you only a thug when you rap? (that ain't gangsta)
niggas jooked you for your track? (that ain't gangsta)
you ran to other thugs to get it back? (that ain't gangsta)
niggas ran off with your packs? (that ain't gangsta)
If you ain't bustin' ya gat (that ain't gangsta)

[Verse 2:]
You'd call me an Animal if you seen me livin' on lock
I stay in a box cats be shook when I'm visitin' pop-ulation
when I walk by, niggas like "Fifty don't play Son"
"yeah, somethin' really wrong with that nigga..."
max out, I'm goin' straight for the glock
bust a u-turn, I'm goin' straight to the block
the things that'll happen if niggas say I can't eat
down goes the window....out goes the heat
I'll make the whole block look like a fuckin' trackmeet
some get it in the leg, some get it in the back
some get it in the foot, bleed all over their airmax
nigga pump my packs or pay poor tax
it's extortion, it happens in the hood often
claim more lives than choices, free abortions
Rich Nice says I got a problem with the dice
'cause I put the title to the Benz on the line twice
I rock sh.t 'cause I stay on that block sh.t
that 9mm Ruger to your knot sh.t
see the difference is I'm real and you not, kid
I still stash crack money in my sock, sh.t
ya'll niggas wanna pop sh.t? I pop clips
leave with your blood on my mink in the drop Six
Guiliani and Pataki can't stop this
since '86 my whole clique pop Criss.

[Chorus]
5-5-1 BLLLAAAP BLLLAAAP!!
1-3-4 BLLLAAAP BLLLAAAP!!
What the f.ck you know about that?

It's just about at a half bottle.  I'm trying to hold there, but I think
 in honor of this post I'll go get a finger ...

Yes, I know, it ain't "who's", i'm jsut havign brain/keybaord trobule ta
the moement..

0T38
(Who needs to go now....)

"Tifosi 308 (The Serial Number Geek)" <shift@theredline.com> wrote in
message news:pPqYd.231

(snipped crazy chicken story)

Mine was behind the wheel of an '84 Jetta GLi. I'm 19 years
old when it happens...

Leaving a pool hall a friend of mine and I are approached by
three high school senior girls, all pretty attractive. They need
a lift to the nearby high school football game. As they try to
get in I have to make them file around to the opposite side
because one of the doors would not open from the outside.
Next my friend opens the front passenger door to get in and
the speaker falls out. Now it's hanging from the wires and he
can't get it back in... The girls are tittering in the backseat but
we're still okay at this point. He gives up and gingerly closes
the door. Time to roll out.

The girls ask me to turn on 101.7 which is broadcasting the game
live. I mistakenly turn it on 107.1, which is soulful r&b. While this
might seem like a decent move one must keep in mind that it's a
small hick town that this takes place in and NOBODY there would
listen to r&b back then. My helpful friend leans over to me as we
leave the parking lot and says "101.7, you dyslexic a.s."

Now we're headed across town. At one point we've been sitting at
an intersection for a long time and I decide to go for it and shoot
across, turning hard left. There's a little tire squeal from the mighty
185/60/HR14s but we make it. At this point the most histrionic of
the girls decides to make a scene.

"LET ME OUTTA THIS CAR! YOU CRAZY MOTHERF**KER!"

I pull into the nearest Duke station and the girls get out, looking
_somewhat_ apologetic for their friend's over-the-top ranting.
They tell us "we can walk the rest of the way." My friend and
I just hang our heads and leave, mostly laughing on our way to
find other trouble to get into.

I have another story about the time that same friend and I had a girl
riding in the back who basically insinuated that she was willing to,
errrr, party with us, and we totally didn't understand that she was
serious so all the way home we cracked jokes, sang "Chantilly Lace"
(seriously, we did), and so on, only putting two and two together
after we dropped her off and thought about all the hints she'd dropped...

That's one better told over a beer though... Anybody going to the
Runoffs this year? I could tell it then...

Who's next?

-Matt- "...with a wiggle in her walk and a giggle in her talk..."

<< At Duffin's request, here's a starter.  What's your most
embarrassing moment behind the wheel of your Ferrari?>>

I think I've told this one before, but here goes...

The World's Most Expensive Parts Shelf had been parked for a couple of
years, when the boss decided it was time to get it rolling again and
assigned a tech to the job. Days later, she's ready for her first test
drive and The Kiwi asks me if I want to ride along. Who would turn down
a spin around the block in a convertible Ferrari? Not I!

So we hop in and head off. The sound of that beautiful V8 singing
behind us only makes the sunshine sweeter. We turned left and right and
left again and then turned right onto a major street. We're laughing
and feeling full of the moment. I may have even tossed my hair. And
then it all went wrong.

We pulled up to the stop light and the motor just petered out. The Kiwi
tried to restart it again and again, but... nothing. The light is green
and people are starting to drive around us. He jumps out of the car to
push it out of the way, but she's a bit of a pig and he can barely get
the wheels rolling. He looks around for help and sees what I do. There
are quite a few people staring at us and laughing, but nobody is moving
in our direction.

Wait, it appears there is one guy who is willing to come to the rescue
in our hour of need.... the homeless guy loitering at the bus stop is
kind enough to help push start my Ferrari.

The sound of laughter followed us home.

C.

My turn: a very similar story with my first Ferrari, the beloved 328
GTS. It was also the first time I was taking it for a drive. Let's keep
in mind it was parked in a very big underground parking lot in Paris. I
started the car, drew everyone's attention by enjoying how the engine
resonated in this closed space, and stalled it right at the exit gate.

That car needed to be started with the pedal to the steel, which I
didn't know then. I never could restart it again, flooded it, and had to
push it backwards out of the lane to let go the cars that were blocked
behind me.

After I just managed that by myself, sweating, cursing and red with
exhaustion and shame, a very posh old lady passing by asked me, with
pity in her eyes: "Is it your first Ferrari?"

Well, I've had the dubious honor of wrecking two vehicles the first week
that I owned them, but one in particular is priceless.  I had just
purchased a brand-new Isuzu Trooper RS, the 2-door sport 4x4, I think it
was an '89 model.  To me, it was the most awesome truck I'd ever seen,
and I'd bought it without asking anybody or any financial assistance.  I
loved it.  The first weekend after I picked it up, I was going to LA to
pick up a date for a ball game.  I was getting off at Robertson Blvd. in
Culver City.  It was really steamy out, and I was coming down the ramp a
little hot.  I braked, slid on the asphalt, and slammed into the back of
an old Pontiac LeMans.  It was pearlescent white, and the brother
driving it was pretty upset.  But not as upset as I was.  We pulled into
an abandoned gas station across the street.  The front end of my truck
was toast, hood wrinkled, grille totalled (in the end $2,900 in damage).
 His car didn't have a scratch.  He started moaning about the paint.  I
told him to f.ck off - I was screaming like a loon.  Then, I got into my
truck and angrily backed up - right into a concrete post.  The back door
had a crease in it about four feet long.  I never did get that fixed.  I
never heard from the brother, either.

Switching movies...

"How'd you get the beans above the frank?!"

-Matt- "When in doubt, whip it out."

Unfortunately I think I just sent those to him two days ago.