So, the question you gots to be asking yoself right now is who is this badass fly mothafucka named DJ Stubblejumper? I’ll tell straight up I am the dopest, phattest goddamnest mothafuckin gopher you eva done seen. Iz be representing Prince Albert, Saskatchewan. That’s right fools. You gots to know us PA niggaz are hard as steel. Weze so goddamn hard we gots to buy kelvar diapers for the gopher babies. We gots kids in preschool here whoze be bustin more caps than the pigs at the LAPD. This shit is real fool. Don’t you dare be laughin/Or yo punk ass I be capping. Shiiiiiit - Iz aint even trying to drop rhymes and they still be flowing like honey. Damn!
Anywayz, since yall want to know more about me, Iz gonna tell you a story that done happened when I wuz a kid. It was December 24th, 1980. Yeah, that’s right Christmas Eve. Santa and Rudolph and all that bullshit. So, anywayz I wuz walking home late after
work. I heard a noise and who do I see? Santa! Aint that something. Santa Claus is a honky whitebread cracker mothafuckin soze I knowin I waznt gonna get jack shit from him. Santa gots no love for the black man or gophers. He wuz on a roof carrying his bag full of toys and shit. He headed down the chimney to deliver it to the chump crackers in the house. I wazn’t feelin that shit. I ran over to the house and climbed up the downspout for the eaves trough. When I got to the top I pulled myself over the edge I saw them reindeer right in front of me. They saw me and Rudolph asked me what I was doing on the roof. I walked up to Rudolph and pulled out my Glock. I thought that punk-ass fool was going to shit right there. I told the reindeer to get the fuck out of dodge or I wuz gonna have to bust a cap. Those little reindeer bitches took off in a flash.I walked over to the chimney and waited. About ten minutes later I could here that fat-ass Santa coming up the chimney. When his head poked out of the top I stick my Glock in his face. I said, “Merry Christmas mothafucka. Here’s what’s goin down Whitey. I’m jackin’ you for your bag of toys. You’ze gonna step out of the chimney nice and slow like and drop the bag. Then you’ze gonna get the fuck out of here. You make one wrong move and it’s on. This is one gopher you don’t wants to be fucking with fool.”
Santa done shit his pants right then and there. Damn it stunk. Anywayz, he dropped the bag and took of. Probably to go find some clean underwear. I grabbed the bag and headed home. When I got back to the hood everyone went crazy. We aint used to getting presents and shit in the projects. I was a goddamn mothafuckin hero. Santa done learned an important lesson that day: don’t mess with a gopher from the projects. Biatch!
