>grab your favorite vidya quote
>translate it trough here
gizoogle.net
''They was all dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da final gunshot was a exclamation mark ta every last muthafuckin thang dat had hustled ta dis point. I busted out mah finger from tha trigger, n' then dat shiznit was over n' shit.
To make any kind of sense of it, I need ta go back three years.
Back ta tha night tha wild-ass bullshit started.''
Bob Page: Yo crazy-ass appointment ta FEMA should be finalized within tha week. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I already discussed tha matta wit tha Senator.
Walton Simons: I take it da thug was agreeable?
Page: Dude didn't straight-up gotz a cold-ass lil chizzle.
Simons: Has his thugged-out lil' punk-ass been infected?
Page: Ah fo'sho, most certainly. When I mentioned we could put his ass on tha prioritizzle list fo' tha Ambrosia vaccine, da thug was so willin dat shiznit was almost pathetic.
Simons: This plague �" tha riotin is intensifyin ta tha point where we may not be able ta contain dat shit.
Page: Why contain it, biatch? Let it spill over tha fuck into tha schools n' churches. Let tha bodies pile up in tha streets, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. In tha end, they'll beg our asses ta save dem wild-ass muthafuckas.
Simons: I've received reportz of armed attacks on shipments, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Therez not enough vaccine ta go around, n' tha underclasses is startin ta git desperate.
Page: Of course they desperate. They can smell they dirtnaps, n' tha sound they'll make rattlin they cages will serve as a warnin ta tha rest.
Simons: Hmm. I hope you not underestimatin tha problem. Da others may not go as on tha fuckin' down-lowly as you think. Intelligence indicates they behind tha problems up in Paris.
Page: A bunch of pretentious oldschool pimps playin at hustlin tha ghetto yo, but tha ghetto left dem behind long ago. We is tha future biaatch!
Simons: Our thugged-out asses have other problems.
Page: UNATCO?
Simons: Formed by executizzle order afta tha terrorist strike on tha Statue. I have one of mah thugs up in place though cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. I be mo' concerned bout Cabbage. Dat punk relocated ta Vandenberg.
Page: Our biochem corpus is far up in advizzle of theirs, as is our electronic sentience, n' their... ethical inflexibilitizzle has allowed our asses ta make progress up in areas they refuse ta consider.
Simons: Da augmentation project?
Page: Among other thangs yo, but I must admit dat I've been somewhat pissed tha fuck off wit tha performizzle of tha primary unit.
Simons: Da secondary unit should be online soon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but currently undergoin preparations n' should be operationizzle within six months. My fuckin playas will continue ta report on its progress. If necessary, tha primary is ghon be terminated.
Page: We've had ta endure much, you n' I yo, but soon there is ghon be order again n' again n' again �" a freshly smoked up age fo' realz. Aquinas was rappin of tha mythical Citizzle on tha Hill. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon dat hood is ghon be a reality, n' we is ghon be crowned its mackdaddys, or betta than mackdaddys: Gods!
>Why contain it, biatch? Let it spill over tha fuck into tha schools n' churches. Let tha bodies pile up in tha streets, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. In tha end, they'll beg our asses ta save dem wild-ass muthafuckas
i swear i heard these exact lyrics in a rap before
War. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Battle never chizzles.
Da Romans waged war ta gather slaves n' wealth. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Spain built a empire from its lust fo' gold n' territory yo. Hitla shaped a funky-ass battered Germany tha fuck into a economic superpower.
But war never chizzles.
In tha 21st century, war was still waged over tha resources dat could be acquired. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Only dis time, tha spoilz of war was also its weapons: Petroleum n' Uranium. For these resources, China would invade Alaska, tha US would annex Canada, n' tha European Commonwealth would dissolve tha fuck into quarreling, bickerin nation-states, bent on controllin tha last remainin resources on Earth.
In 2077, tha storm of ghetto war had come again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In two brief hours, most of tha hood was reduced ta cindaz fo' realz. And from tha ashez of nuclear devastation, a freshly smoked up civilization would struggle ta arise.
A few was able ta reach tha relatizzle safety of tha big-ass underground vaults, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Yo crazy-ass crew was part of dat crew dat entered Vault Thirteen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Imprisoned safely behind tha big-ass Vault door, under a mountain of stone, a generation has lived without knowledge of tha outside ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass.
Life up in tha Vault be bout ta chizzle.
What a thrill...
With darknizz n' silence all up in tha night
What a thrill...
I'm searchin n' I'll melt tha fuck into yo thugged-out ass
What a gangbangin' fear up in mah ass
But you're so supreme biaatch!
I'd give mah game
Not fo' honour yo, but fo' you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? [Snake Eater]
In mah time there'll be no one else
Crime, it's tha way I fly ta you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? [Snake Eater]
I'm still up in a thugged-out dream,
Snake Eater son!
Somedizzle you go all up in tha rain
And someday, you feed on a tree frog
This ordeal, tha trial ta survive
For tha dizzle we peep freshly smoked up light playa!
I'd give mah game
Not fo' honour yo, but fo' you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? [Snake Eater]
In mah time there'll be no one else
Crime, it's tha way I fly ta you, nahmean biiiatch, biatch? [Snake Eater]
I'm still up in a thugged-out dream,
Snake Eater son!
I be still up in a thugged-out dream,
Snake Eater son!
[Snake Eater]
Colors weave tha fuck into a spire of flame
Distant sparks call ta a past still unnamed
Bare dis torch against tha cold of tha night
Search yo' ass n' reawaken tha undyin light
On dat day, when tha sky fell tha fuck away
Our ghetto came ta a end
In our eyes stood a gangbangin' fadin sunrise up in tha dark
glimmerin shadows
Silence grows up in tha spaces between
Stretchin up beyond time
Risin up as a cold-ass lil choruz of souls findz a voice
flickerin all up in tha void
These lil sparks clin on ta game
Everyone caught up in tha struggle
And then stormz of chizzle they hustla tha flames
scatterin ashes ta tha wind
Every ass gotz nuff a whisper of light
Gleamin faintly as it dwindlez from sight
No escape no pimped outa fate ta be made
In tha end, tha chainz of time aint gonna break
Colors weave tha fuck into a spire of flame
Distant sparks call ta a past still unnamed
Bare dis torch against tha cold of tha night
Search yo' ass n' reawaken tha undyin light
As fate spins a thread without end
New game draws its first breath
Blossomin up in a soil reclaimed from tha past
Where destiny holdz fast
Here where we stand, hand clenched up in hand
Everyone caught up in tha struggle
This is tha dizzle we finally find a way
steppin tha fuck into our tomorrow
Every ass gotz nuff a whisper of light
Growin louder as it calls ta unite
From tha distizzle sings a cold-ass lil choruz of souls
Risin slowly stirrin heat from tha coals
Colors weave tha fuck into a spire of flame
Distant sparks call ta a past still unnamed
Bare dis torch against tha cold of tha night
Light will guide you on yo' way ta tha illest fight
Every ass gotz nuff a whisper of light
Growin louder as it calls ta unite
From tha distizzle sings a cold-ass lil choruz of souls
Risin slowly stirrin heat from tha coals
Colors weave tha fuck into a spire of flame
Distant sparks call ta a past still unnamed
Bare dis torch against tha cold of tha night
Light will guide you on yo' way ta tha illest fight
And whoz ass might you be, biatch? Would you like ta join me fo' a game of Russian Roulette, biatch? Come on, how tha fuck bout it son, biatch? If you win I be bout ta let you up in on a lil secret: how tha fuck ta hit on dem hoes wit one hundred cement success.
>And if I lose?
If you lose, then I want you ta bust a cap up in tha President.
>Alright, itz a thugged-out deal.
I'd don't give a fuck bout ta say it but you gots guts son. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. No way I be goin ta take a thugged-out dirtnap todizzle, or tomorrow fo' dat matter playa! At least not until tha erection is over n' shit. Well shiiiit, it takes mo' luck than dis game ta run a cold-ass lil ghetto damn dat shiznit son!
Ha! I be on a roll! I be hot son! It be lookin like Lady Luckz on mah side todizzle, hahaha!
Whatz a cold-ass lil ghetto... whoz ass is tha people... what tha fuck is suckas, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck knows. I just wanted ta become tha Prezzy fo' realz. All I need is ta hear tha empty click of dis glock n' all mah trips will come true.
Heh, be lookin like you lose son. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sorry yo, but a thugged-out dealz a thugged-out deal.
>This glock holdz seven bullets, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. I be a professional, you can't fool me oldschool man.
Yo ass n' I, we both sick! Da only time we feel kickin it is when we put our lives on tha line biaaatch! It aint nuthin but a fucked up realitizzle but we playas is never satisfied, we'll always seek a higher rush! Da history of tha United Hoodz rests within tha wallz of dis institution. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but a oldschool tradizzle dat has continued since tha straight-up original gangsta Presidential erection. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I want you ta peep it all up in ta tha end.
And by tha way: dem hoes is all tha same!
Yo ass be above even tha Boss... I hereby award you tha title of Big Boss. Yo ass be a legit patriot. [Snake strutts out, past army officials n' his cold-ass crew, without fanfare]
"itz a funky-ass dope dizzle outside. birdz is rappin, flowers is blooming. on minutes like these, lil playas like you, biatch... Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Should be burnin up in Hell.
Player Attacks: what, biatch? you be thinkin i'm just gonna stand there n' take it?
our reports flossed a massive anomaly up in tha timespace continuum. timelines jumpin left n' right, stoppin n' starting... until suddenly, every last muthafuckin thang ends. heh heh heh… thatz yo' fault, aint it, biatch? you can't KNOW how tha fuck dis feels, knowin dat one day, without any warning... itz all goin ta be reset. look. i gave up tryin ta go back a long-ass time ago. n' gettin ta tha surface don't straight-up appeal no mo', either n' shit. cause even if our phat asses do... we'll just end up back here without any memory of it, right, biatch? ta be blunt... it make it kind of hard ta give it mah all. ...or is dat just a skanky excuse fo' bein lazy..., biatch? hell if i know. all i know is... seein what tha fuck comes next... i can't afford not ta care no mo'.