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Created on 2005-06-20 11:53:11 (#7487597), last updated 2008-07-21
116 comments received, 222 comments posted
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38 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 1 Userpic
Basic Info| Name: | darseex |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 10-16 |
| Location: | Alaska, United States |
BioWelp, where to begin? I was born a poor slave boy on a plantation in Mississippi. Eventually, they were foolish enough to trust me with a scythe; it was then that I cut a swath of destruction across the entire southeastern seaboard.
Not long after I murdered my owner and all his house niggas, I stole away with a cop's Glock 21 (.45, for those not in the know) and began terrorizing New York with mad rhymes. I called myself Noz, but everyone just got me confused with Nas and I ended up losing a lot of money because of it. Once again, I was forced to murder and rape my way to the top. I killed another cop (probably about my 15th by then) and wore his Kevlar under my hoodie.
On my eleventh birthday is when I first began reconsidering my lifestyle. Forcing a penis down peoples' throats just gets old, you know? Plus everyone thought I was fat because of the kevlar, which just made it harder to get any non-forced pussy and thus, I was a lonely man. Except when I'd rape, but I don't really count that because I'd have to kill 'em or knock 'em out if I wanted to snuggle.
And here I am today, twenty-one years old and a much wiser man. Heh, I still got that old Glock sitting around here somewhere, with what's left of my owner's scalp. Nowadays I'm a Smith and Wesson man; nothing puts a hole in a motherfucker like a .500 Magnum. I'm rich, because I've robbed at least fifteen or so banks and I'm awfully conservative in my spending habits, so now I sit around updating my LJ. Cheers, mate!
Not long after I murdered my owner and all his house niggas, I stole away with a cop's Glock 21 (.45, for those not in the know) and began terrorizing New York with mad rhymes. I called myself Noz, but everyone just got me confused with Nas and I ended up losing a lot of money because of it. Once again, I was forced to murder and rape my way to the top. I killed another cop (probably about my 15th by then) and wore his Kevlar under my hoodie.
On my eleventh birthday is when I first began reconsidering my lifestyle. Forcing a penis down peoples' throats just gets old, you know? Plus everyone thought I was fat because of the kevlar, which just made it harder to get any non-forced pussy and thus, I was a lonely man. Except when I'd rape, but I don't really count that because I'd have to kill 'em or knock 'em out if I wanted to snuggle.
And here I am today, twenty-one years old and a much wiser man. Heh, I still got that old Glock sitting around here somewhere, with what's left of my owner's scalp. Nowadays I'm a Smith and Wesson man; nothing puts a hole in a motherfucker like a .500 Magnum. I'm rich, because I've robbed at least fifteen or so banks and I'm awfully conservative in my spending habits, so now I sit around updating my LJ. Cheers, mate!
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