That Fitted Is Hot, Son: You Dead, Playa?


Yo, Angel, my man, that new Yankees fitted is hot, son! For realz. Where’d you cop that joint?


I’m sayin’ though, it’s tight, right? You got that soil, dirt, chocolate and earf tones in there, and the mo’fuckin’ argyle and shit. Shit’s hot, aight!?


Angel Pantoja Medina! I’m talking to you, playboy! You just gun stand there, ain’t say shit? What’s the deal, homie?


Aight look, for real, you been standing in this corner for three mo’fuckin’ days and shit, wearing them same fake ass Dolce and Gabbana shades and that broke ass chain. But, best believe, that fitted is hot, yo. That’s what I’m sayin’. I’m tryin to give you some love, son. Damn.


Fine then, fuck you, Angel. Bitch. That fitted is played out anyways. I’m out.


6 thoughts on “That Fitted Is Hot, Son: You Dead, Playa?”

  1. I never type LOL on the internet, but seriously, LOL!

    Don’t ever write another blog, because you will never, and I mean never be able to top this post.

    Motherfucking hilarious right here!!!!!!!!!!1

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