Somebody gimme a HO-oh! Check it, mo-fos. Dis be Foxy B, and a ho kickin it real from da boogie down Motel f*ckin 6 on da outskirts of Fort Lauderdale. A sistah gots to put in whatchoocall a court appearance cause a sassy beauty sto cashier git all up in Foxy's grill when she know a ho fro dat sh*t. I frode some hair gloo at her bitch-azz noggin. Now, ornidarily a bitch can git away wif dat shizzle. But dat be after I bust some ju-jitsu moves on some sassy Korean manicurisist hos fo gettin up a sistah's grill talkin bout "oooh, Foxy-san! You pay fo da tips!" Damn, dawg. Like to break my ferra-f*ckin-gamo heel up they azz. Respeck.
Yessa-dee a ho take a walk on da beach. Dayum, dawgs! Dis Lauderdale hood gots some fine-azz menzes! 'Cept they all gots those skimpy-azz speedos on and call each other "Mary." They be all "Mary can you put some o' dis sunscreen on my back?" and "Mary, where you git yo waxin did?" and "Mary, let's do some mef and play each other's rusty trombones." Foxy don't gots no idea what they talkin bout. A ho even hike up her titties and let a nipple pop froo, but those Mary dudes don't even look at a sistah. Those punks be racicistises, yo.
On da self improobmint tip, a sistah finish dat triflin Barbar shizzle. A ho like to pop a cap in dat f*ggoty elephant's azz. Now a bitch be readin bout a kat name Sam, who gots a creepy-azz stalker dude all up in his face talkin bout his plate of nasty green eggs and shizzle. "Wouldjoo eat dem in dat box? Yo, wouldjoo eat dis wif some fox?" Dat sh*t blow a sistah's m*therf*ckin mind, yo. Woo! Dat Sam bitch bettah run! Oooh, there he be agin! Don'tchoo eat dat green-azz meat, punk! Dat's off da hook, son.
On dis week's espizode of Foxy News Channel, a ho be spittin' some rizzle shizzle, bizzizzle. I gots me whatchoo call da escluxive inna-voo wif A-Rod, bitches. Check it, punks:
FOXY BROWN: Somebody gimme a HO-ho!! Wooo, chile!! This be Foxy B, punks. And a sistah be sittin here in a locker room of Yazzankee Stazzadium, yo. Check dis, mo-fos. A ho be spittin some mad rhymes wif her boy Alex Rodriguez, who chills by his rap name A-Rod. Fist bump a sistah, punk.
A-ROD: Hello Foxy.
FB: Ooo, how come you gots a red string round yo lef wristisses? That to remind a brovah to spank a ho?
AR: Girl, this be a kabbalah string.
AR: Some Jewish mystic dudes sell them for $500, they help ward off the evil eye and bring good luck.
FB: Well your gay-ass luck's off to a bad f*ckin start, if you be payin a Jew five C's for a nasty string, punk. See dis on Foxy's lef wristisiz? Two words, dawg: Ro Lex. Feel dat, punk. So Foxy gots a queshin fo yo azz.
AR: Then you gots to lay dat shizzle on a brovah.
FB: Why yo cracka wife divorcin yo fine azz?
AR: She be finkin A-Rod be bonin' Madonna while she in da hospizizzle spittin my baby out her vajayjay.
FB: Oooo, Foxy hate her some Madonna. Why she gots to go stealin babies from Afficka?
AR: Little David's a good baby. He don't fro his poop no more since Madonna put a tire swing in his cage.
FB: Dat trashy ho work a sistah's nerve, yo. Ebby time her f*ggot-azz music come on, a ho turn off her hearing aid, yo. Foxy like to cut dat bitch.
AR: She can put her legs behind her head.
FB: Foxy like to put Madonna's legs in New Jersey and her head in Bed-Stuy, punk.
AR: Damn, girl. Dat's cold.
FB: Dawg, why you gots to go swingin yo wood in a cracka bitch's batter's box? Foxy pop yo fly so hard yo balls be bouncin off da nosebleed seats!
AR: Das jus how a brovah roll, ho. Respeck.