Slow week. I guess I'm one and done:
BUT...A couple of things to mention:
Thing 1: There is NO reason to have your shirt open like that up in the club.
I ain't talkin' about her; I'm talkin' bout him! WTF, knigga! You ain't at home!
Thing 2: The only name to get tatted on your shoulder is your own...to remind kniggas of who they're fuckin' when they hittin' it from the back!
Thing 3: If ya can't be Misty Copeland...be the Misty Copeland of the strip club! Nothin' wrong with having goals! You goal, gurl! (and don't miss that dollar on the drink rest)
Her ass-to-waist ratio is SICK! AND she got them top guns, too! It don't matter that she's rockin' flip-flops and a 1986 seiko watch. She'd get the bidzness!
And sporty spice over here got the whitest teef in the club.
(I promise I'm not saying that just to stall until ol' girl in the back uncrosses them legs.)