Somebody gimme a HO-oh! This be Foxy B, mo-fos. And I gots me some rhymes to spit, yo. Firs, y'all gots to chill bout that bench warrant the Judge bitch put on Foxy's ass yessaday. Lawyer bitch clear dat shit up, you feel a sistah? Sh*t. Use to be a time a ho could frow a phone at a sassy bitch's noggin without all this flibberty-floo. Foxy already done put eight m*therf*ckin monfs in da joint, yo. I did dat *ss-lickin anger mamagemint skoo. I also done edjamacated my ass, readin books an sh*t. Firs, Foxy read that shizzle bout those gay-ass crackers Dick and Jane and they f*ggoty dog Spot. Dat Spot can run, that's fo sho. Then Foxy read this whack-ass book bout a punk-ass Runaway Bunny. Bunny bitch be frontin his mama 'bout hittin da streets but mama bunny don't play dat sh*t. Blow a sistah's mind.
So this be the fird edishin of the Foxy News Channel, bitches. A sistah be finkin bout what she gonna do. Then Foxy get it in her noggin that she gonna do some inna-tainment nooz. Feel dat. Today, a sistah spittin rhymes all bout dat fat Oprah bitch and her innavoo wit dat whack-ass Tomcrooz f*ggit. But dat gay-ass whup-ass cracker who run this *ss-lickin blog don't give a sistah no kinda budjit so I don't gots no video, punks. So Foxy fixin to act out da Oprah/Tom Crooz innavoo wit sock puppets. Check it.
This be da Oprah-bitch sock puppet. Oprah gots da bling, yo. Dat ho bring dat shit. She remind a sistah of that bitch from Cell block B who be makin Foxy work her stank-ass muff for a pack of bajinya slims. Oprah be serious. Dat fat sistah gots a razor blade in her weave. Don’t cross dat Oprah-bitch or she like to cut a ho. Respeck.
This be da Tomcrooz sock puppet, bitches. Foxy make this gay-ass puppet out of a ladies pair of ankle-socks, like doze lesbo tennis bitches gots. Tomcrooz be one off-da-hook cracker, mo-fos. He ain’t right in his noggin. Foxy can spot a crazy-ass cracka-man. One time Foxy be watchin da TV and his creepy-ass face come on, a bitch drop her bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Dat’s for shizzle.
So now Foxy fixin to shove her hands up these gay-ass sock puppets so a sistah can ack out some m*therf*ckin highlights from dat off-da-hook innavoo they done did at Tomcrooz crib up in the Rocky f*ckin Mountinz (a sistah best not f*ck up her tips dat she just got did, dat's fo sho). Check dat.
OPRAH SOCK PUPPET: Sit yo cracka ass down, mo-fo.
TOMCROOZ SOCK PUPPET: I be chillin like Bob Dylan, bitch. Check it.
OSP: Check yo self, punk. A sistah gots a score to settle. Whoop!
TSP: Den you gots to lay dat sh*t on a brovah.
OSP: Why you gots to looz you m*therf*ckin mind lass time? A brovah jump on a sistah's sofa? What kinda country-ass white trash you be, dawg?
TSP: I be da kinda kat dat be feelin dat shizzle. Dat be how I roll. Don't dis a bro.
OSP: A sistah let it slide dis time. But nex time a brovah visit a sistah's crib, you best keep those stank-ass Reeboks off a bitch's divan. Nex queshin. Let's spit rhymes bout yo creepy-ass lizard baby.
TSP: Dat's hard, Oprah-bitch. Suri ain't no lizard baby. Sh*t.
OSP: Don't front a bitch, mo-fo. Dat baby's got fake-ass plastic skin. Her hair be a weave. She an alien-lizard, punk.
TSP: You talkin smack bout a brovah's girl, ho. She a real-ass baby. Dat's not a weave.
OSP: N***a please. You fink a sistah can't spot a weave? Why you gots to keep dat chillunz in a cage?
TSP: Y'all gots to lay off my baby girl. Tomcrooz will smack a ho.
OSP: Fine, punk. But she half-sleestak if you ax me. Nex queshin. Do it be true you like takin tube steak up yo stank-ass poo hole?
TSP: Oprah-bitch, Tomcrooz fixin to slap the black out yo family. A brovah done bang Cher, Nico Kidmin, Hedda Locklear and Pallepalie f*ckin Cruz! I tap da shit out they ass, ho. Feel dat.
OSP: Oprah gots her some gaydar, cracka. You gots some sugar in yo ass, yo. You on da DL and you gots to fess dat sh*t up right now. Respeck.
TSP: Step correck, ho. I cut some bacon off yo fat back. Dat sh*t be rizzle fo shizzle.
OSP: Suit yo-self, punk-ass cracka. Nex queshin. Why you gots to believe in gay-ass alien ghosts dat live in a m*therf*ckin volcano? Dat sh*t's triflin. Don't you love you no Jesus? Da lord Jesus Chrise love you, chile. Who be dat Xenu f*ggit, anyways?
TSP: Step correck, ho. You on fin ice, yo.
OSP: We gots to pause now fo stashin idenfaca-whatzit. We be back, dawgs. Keep yo fat asses where they be. Respeck.
Dat be all, bitches. Foxy done with this sh*t. Peace out, mo-fos.