Board Thread:Art, Stories and Songs/@comment-25974603-20151015015744

Liberty City, Broker, 1994

"The World Is Yours' by Nas blared loudly out of the Sabre GT's stereo as it cruised down along Scholtter, the driver reaching into his glovebox, pulling out an Uzi.

"I sip the Don P, watching Ghandi till I'm charged. Then writing in my book of rhynes, all past the margin,"

Cocking it, he put into his pocket, the look of revenge in his eyes. They're going to pay for what they've done.

"To hold the mic I'm throbbin, mechanical movement. Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with,"

He told them to stay away from his family and friends, the people he loved, the people he trusted the most. But they didn't listen. Better prepare for the shitstorm, motherfuckers.

"The thief's theme, play me at night they won't act right, the theme of hip-hop's got me stuck like a crackpipe."

They'd be begging to die when he was finished with them. He wanted to make them experience the same pain and suffering that he did.

"I keep falling, but never falling six feet deep."

Stopping at a small house, he stepped out of the car, pulling his Uzi out.

"I'm out for dead presidents to represent me."

The young man clenched his fists. For my cousin.

"I'm out for dead fucking presidents to represent me.

...Whose world is this?"

(Yes, this is obviously a teaser for the GTA fanfiction. Sorry if the song choice is somewhat unfitting.) 