Day Two

[Reijin]

Holding onto his massive weapon of choice, he pumped it ferociously. After just a second, he closed his eyes as a streak of sheer power burst forth from the giant length of flamethrower. "Ahh...." he moaned at the ecstacy of it. After a moment, he looked down at the chainsaw below him.

He had a choice to make. But his grin told him which was more fun. After all, hard niggas don't play.

Moments later, he was done with the remains of the completely cut apart and now burning corpse at his feet... after he was done fulfilling his needs. The deer wasn't quite up to part, but he couldn't demand filet mignon either. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he'd stooped to getting the first rough and stringy meat he could find. In his hood, every corner had its share of bitches and hoes.

The thing he missed the most though had to have been his pimped out caddy with 42" rims on that shit. He had the hydrolics and base and all. When the front of that shit bounced into the air, bitches would bow. And when the back end bounced into the air, those bitches were sore.

R-Dawg finally finished his business and picked up his chosen weapon. "I gone be fuckin' all deez bitches in dis shit, ya herd?" He'd taken third degree burns... But he wouldn't be the first nigga alive to bust some rhymes about being shot repeatedly and living through it.

"Fifty ain't got nuttin' on mah shit. Shot nine times with a glock, little bitch. Better recognize, dis bitch dun shot me with a muthafuckin' flamethrower, and all i got is a new tattoo. Fo realz." He flashed another gang sign into the air, and pulled up his pants again to their position at just above his knees, while his baggy boxers hung all the way out. He began to walk off holding onto the crotch of his pants... Real niggas need no belt, bitch.