Promo: Kings of the Sugarhill

[Angel_Grace_Blue 0]

Just imagine that this happened whenever. And stuff.

 

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“Hey man, let me get an Incredible Hulk,” Lil’ Buck says to the bartender, who, according to federal law, must engage in a minimum of nine hundred hours of glass drying a week, and is thus working on that task.

 

“A what?” is the reply, complete with semi-blank stare.

 

“Incredible Hulk. Look, you take Hypnotiq...”

 

“What?” the bartender interrupts.

 

“Never mind. Got any hennessy?” Buck asks, hoping he’ll be able to get some kind of drink.

 

“Uh, ‘fraid not.”

 

“No damn cognac at all?” Buck wonders, a bit incredulous.

 

“Nope. Mostly beer and whiskey, fella.”

 

“Fine. Let me know when y’all get some real drinks,” Buck says, walking out of the bar, muttering “Mu’fuckin’ crackas ain’t even got hennessy.”

 

As he steps into the cold Montana air, the digitized beats of Crime Mob’s “Knuck if You Buck” start up, and Buck pulls out his cell phone.

 

“Sugarhill’s Finest. Who’s this?”

 

“You know who this is, bitch. Who else gon’ be callin’ you?”

 

“Aww, Banks, man, how you doin’?”

 

“Bein' held the fuck down, man! I ain’t stayin’ in this fuckin’ hospital no mo'! I'm bussin' loose tonight, man, ain't a goddamn nurse or some shit that's gon' stop me!”

 

“I know you’re angry, man, but you can’t turn tricks the way you is right now...”

 

“What you sayin’? You think I’m a bitch?” Jarrod Banks fires back.

 

“Naw, man, I’m jus' sayin’ you just need to recover. They ain’t even lettin’ you walk, is they?”

 

“Not yet, they keep tryin' to hold a brotha down - but I’m workin’ on it. I’m goin’ be out and kickin’ ass again, best believe!” Banks exclaims.

 

“Hell, you still got some them shells still up in ya, don’t ya?” Buck asks.

 

“So? Shit ain’t stoppin’ me from gettin’ back in the ring! Some fuckin’ bitch asses thinkin’ they can stop Jarrod Banks with a few fuckin’ bullets? They fuckin’ wrong!” Banks screams.

 

“Look, Money, I ain’t sayin’ you ain’t shit. Alls I’m sayin’ is that you gon' to end up right back in the mutha fuckin' hospital if you try to wrestle like dis.”

 

“They fuckin’ wrong, man! 'Sides, I gotsta fight, nigga!”

 

“C'mon, Banks, just hold on a minute. I’m gettin’ this stuff locked up, so you just take some time, let them doctors take those bullets out ya, and once you come back, we gon’ be gettin’ all the belts, nigga, and listen, we gon’ be puttin’ princess cuts all over ‘em, man. How that sound?” Buck asks.

 

“Sounds real fuckin’ good, man, but God damn, I can’t stand bein’ here no mo'! Fuckin’ doctors won’t even let me smoke a damn Black and Mild, man.” Banks protests.

 

“Alright, man. I’m goin’ keep grindin’, and I’ll be ready when you get back.” Buck says and puts the phone back in his pocket.

 

“Now, where the fuck can I get a God damn Incredible Hulk in this fuckin’ state?” he asks himself, moving on to another bar.

[Toxxic 0]

Word.

[A Happy Medium 0]

Nice black and mild reference.

 

(Y)