DJ Stubblejumper: Step off punk-ass mothafuckas! I ain't goin down like dat!

Yo Gs. It only been a few dayz since DJ Stubblejumper introduced his pimp-daddy playa hussla door to door ho delivery service. Already some punk-ass mothafuckas gotz to be trying to play me. I wuz makin a ho delivery to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan when some mothafucka by the side of the road flagged me down. It looked like their car wuz havin problemz soze I stopped to help them out. Youze probably knowz that gopherz be a social animal so Iz feel an obligation to help out anyone than be havin troublez - even some redneck whitebread cracker mothafuckas. Howeva, when I stopped my car and got out, theze mothafuckas tried to grab the ho and jack the car. Aint nobody gonna gank a gangster rapper like DJ Stubblejumper!

I hussled over to the first cracker and ran up his leg and didn't stop until I got to his face and bit that cracker until he be bleeding. He be yellin and screamin and started rollin around on the ground. I jumped off and watched him suffer. Damn it felt good broz. The second mofo dun saw what happened and jumped in his car and yelled to the first mofo to get in. I let the first mofo go and they both sped off. I aint no sucka and Iz figurin they might be comin back wit some friendz. So, I grabbed my ho, tossed her in the back seat of the car to keep her safe and I grabbed my gun out of the trunk. It wuz time to put the A to the mothafuckin K. I walked up the road and bit and dug me a little foxhole at the nearest intersection. If thoze mothafuckas came back the wuz gonna get popped. I let the ho out of the backseat for a few minutez - just long enough for her to take a photo of me:

Aint no South Central gangbanging niggaz or Tony Montana or anybody eva looked as tough as I do here. Damn!

I waited for half an hour and finally I heard a car be approaching. I stood up (DJ Stubblejumper aint duckin fo no punk-ass cracker mothafuckas) and got ready to fire. This nigga had his finger on the trigger when the car came into view. It was the same car as befo and full of mofo crackers. The car stopped at the intersection and I screamed "THIS IS FOR HUEY NEWTON MOTHAFUCKAS!" I opened fire and the AK ripped the car apart. The crackers tried to speed away but I dun blew away their tires. They jumped out of the car and hid in the ditch. I yelled again, "YO MOTHAFUCKAS! HOW YA LIKE ME NOW?"

I kept firing away until the clip was empty. The car was just a pile of swiss cheeze metal by then. I popped in another clip in case the crackers tried somethin. I waited for a while and I couldn't hear nuttin. I walked over to my car and jumped in. The ho in the back seat was going bezerk. I told her to shut the fuck up or she would be next. You best believe she aint say nuttin after that. I wuz temped to go over and cap all dem whitebread mofos right then and there but sometimez bidness comes first. I wuz late deliverin the ho and I needed to get goin. As I drove by the place where the crackers wuz hidin I let out one round and yelled out the window, "Lesson learned mothafuckas. Don't mess with us hardcore Prince Albert niggaz. Weze be playin fo keeps." I drove off and not one of the crackers even had the gutz to pop his head out of the ditch. Coward mothafuckas.

After I reached the drop-off point of da ho, she begged me to let her take another photo of me. Ya see, the DJ Stubblejumper is located on such a refined sexilicious plane of existence of magnitude that all da ladiez be wantin a piece - even if the piece just be a photograph.