Stop It, stop lighting your butthol on fire, and everybody listen to me. If you light your ass on fire, I hope you have boxers or a filter of somekind, because if your a bareass person.
I don’t feel like I’m with you. And I say, You know what? That was your mother’s gripe, too. And she was right. And you’re also correct. When you cop to something, you get to the next level. In this case, the next level is: I just learned something from my twelve-year-old.
