9.05.2010

Division 1

I started two years NC two A and I was pretty good. I was efficient, never got burned - that was my thing. I Picked off a couple passes here and there but I wasn't great and I played on a pretty bad team. I was a good enough athlete to get by without having to live breathe and die football football football. I knew I didn't have the genes for the NFL. Yeah, I would have liked to play pro and yeah, I know there's always some little slow white fuck that never makes a mistake and you can bet your paycheck that guy's livin' and dyin' football and that ain't me, but I ain't stupid, and I know my limits - that's one of the reasons I was as good as I was. But what I really wanted anyway was the twat in the tight red shorts and the little top that showed off her tits and football helped me get her (and her sister and her even hotter best friend and it's still paying off). You can't buy that kind of confidence or steal it or sell shit-loads of dope to get it. I've never had much money but I always have a girl on my arm and I've never done time. A real man doesn't need much money or a gun. What a real man needs is women, lots of them, or at least one good one.

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