http://www.rocascenes.com

I swaer the funniest shit you'll be reading for awhile.

Where in the fuck do you find this dumb shit?

Carmen: You know, you remind me of BIG. Can I call you BIG?

Jay: My name is Jay-Z, but that's cool. *pushes her head back down

Carmen: Honey, stay here with Menfbeak. Mommy and the nice man have to talk inside.

Bleek: Yo Jay, I ain't no babysitter man. You said we was pickin up some hoes.

Jay: How'd you get here man?

Bleek: ??? Whatchu mean?

Jay: How'd you end up here...at this house.

Bleek: I rode with you.. in your Rover. Whatchu mean?

Jay: You wanna ride back the same way, or you wanna walk?

^=))

KRS: Hip-hop is the tree, the root, the branch, and the leaf. You can climb it, carve your name on it, or swing like a monkey. But a tree can't do your taxes or drain a swimming pool.

KRS: Hip-hop should run for governor. With time, hip-hop will be president of the United States. Then we can take back control of the artform, and educate the youth. Right now, I have cereal in one pocket and milk in the other.

KRS: Hip-hop is my bowl and spoon. *pulls out a fist full of cereal from his pocket*

KRS: *hops back in the chair, now wearing mask made out of newspaper, and a garbage bag cape* I had a vision! Hip-hop spoke to me!

KRS: Hip-Hop says that there is no light without dark. If the human soul had a color, it would have to be a rainbow. Jesus was the first emcee. I swear to God I had milk in my left pocket this morning and now it's not there. Did you take my milk?

KRS: Did you say HIP-HOP? I remember in 1974, before we had videos and radio play, hip-hop would push children on the swings and build sand castles. Then we would put graffiti on them, and you know what hip-hop would say?

KRS: Koolaaaaid!

KRS: Who wants koolaid? *reaches into his garbage bag cape*

KRS: *gets on his knees* Oh mother hip-hop.. as we suck on thy teat, of thine ample bosom, please guide us through all of life's trials. You know, adult diapers are more comfortable than underwear.

KRS: Please what? Hip-hop is the fruit of the loom! The alpha and omega. The quaaaaaan. *spins around, covering his body in the garbage bag cape*


KRS: That reminds me of my battle with MC Shan.





=))=))=))=))=))
That shit is too real...

Jay: Don't think of me as your boss. Think of me as your friend who controls your career and writes your checks.

Nas: Word. Speakin of checks, when will I be seeing the first one?

(( The Jew layers all enter huddle and whisper amongst themselves. Jay joins the huddle, and Nas can only make out bits and pieces of what's being said. ))

Jay: *mumble mumble Ether mumble mumble*

Nas: Uh... Jay, I need--

Jay: Nas, with all due respect, I'm your boss now. I'd really appreciate it if you refer to me as Mr. Carter, or Sir.

Nas: Nigga, is you serious?

"Nigga he dead serious!" a voice cries from the hallway.

Jay: Bleek, are you finished with the carpet?

Bleek: No, J-- Mr. Carter.

Jay: If I can hear you, that means the vacuum ain't turned all the way up, right?

Bleek: *turns up the vacuum* Sorry Sir!

Jay: What?

Bleek: SORRY SIR!

Jay: Huh?

Bleek: SOOORRRYY SIIR!!

Jay: I can't hear you.

Bleek: MY BAD, LET ME TURN DOWN THE VACUUM. *Bleek lowers the vacuum power* SORRY SIR!

Jay: Sorry for what?

Bleek: SORRY FOR TALKING WHEN I SHOULD HAVE BEEN VACUUMING!

Jay: Bleek, why are you shouting?

Bleek: I HAD THE VACUUM UP CAUSE YOU TOLD ME TO VACUUM LOUDER AND NOT TALK!

Jay: Then why are you still talking?

Bleek: *turns the vacuum back up* I'M SORRY SIR.

Jay: What?

Bleek: I SAID I'M SORRY!

Jay: Huh?

Bleek: *turns the vacuum down* I SAID I'M SORRY!

Cam: *walks up to Bleek* What's goin on fam?

Bleek: Nothin man, just wonderin what the fuck happened to the game.

Cam: I feel you fam. All this faggot shit. It's disgusting.

Bleek: Word... whatchu doin after this?

Cam: Man, I'ma go get my dick sucked by this nigga out back.

Bleek: ........

Cam: Then I probably hit some more of this purple and catch me some Dave Chappelle.

Whole Crowd: I'M RICK JAMES BITCH!

Bleek: Hol up... you gettin your dick sucked by who?

Cam: This nigga, I forget his name. You want me to ask if he'll hit you off too?

Bleek: Nigga how the fuck you get your dick sucked by a dude?

Cam: Nah fam, don't get it twisted. Ain't no fruity shit goin on over here... not everybody can get away with that shit. But when you the hardest nigga on the block, it's nothin fam. Just like in jail. That don't make you gay, you feel me?

Bleek: Yo... I'ma catch up with you later tho. *walks away*

Cam: Aight man. Ayo--

Bleek: *stops*

Cam: Killa Cam, Purple Haze comin Ca'March 2004.

Bleek: ....we on the same label, why you tellin me that?

Cam: I tell everybody that.

BWAHAHAHAHA

Dame: Hey, everybody pay attention... I got an important Roc-A-Nnouncement! HOLLA!

Jay and Beans: *look up from rollin dice*

State Property: *pauses Grand Theft Auto Vice City*

Cam'Ron: *stops arguing with a bitch over whose blouse is the pinkest*

M.O.P.: *stops bouncing off the walls screaming*

Freeway: *stops crying and looks up like a sad puppy*

Memphis Bleek: *looks up from scrubbing the floor with his toothbrush*

Dame: Bleek, this don't concern you. Get back to work.

Bleek: Man, why--

Dame: Bleek! we had this discussion. You must like wearing that Roc-A-Wear bib at dinner.

Young Chris: hahaha HOLLA!

Bleek: *mumbles under his breath and continues scrubbing*

Dame: Alright, um... we have another addition to the Roc-A-Fella family. I want you all to show him the same respect you show M.O.P., Twista, and every other artist on our roster...

Beans: *looks at Dame and rolls his eyes toward Bleek*

Dame: oh, except Bleek.

Everyone: Oh, aight...

Dame: Now, this is an artist I've had a lot of respect for... for years. But as you all know, we're not allowed to compliment any artist in the industry until they're signed to the Roc, and I'm proud to say... that day has arrived.

Everyone: *looks on with anticipation*

Dame: Aight, come on out man.

Talib Kweli: *jogs through the door wearing a blue Roc-A-Wear jump suit and a green kufi*

Dame: TALIB KWELI! KILLA KWA! TaliBAN! HOLLA!

Cam'Ron: *turns up his nose*

Jay and Beans: *go back to rollin dice*

M.O.P.: FIIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

Young Chris: *points to GTA Vice City* Ayo Free, watch me jack this nigga!

Freeway: *cries*

Dame: Ay...this nigga is hot! I'm tellin y'all. Killa Kwa, kick that blaze! HOLLA!

Talib: HOLLA!... Yo.. Yo... Yo... *looks around and sees no one listening* Yo.. Yo...

Dame: *nudges Talib*

Talib: Yo... Yo... I'm the Roc like roll, hot like soul, bout to make the game stop like hold...I want a pot like gold...

Beans: Damn, this nigga be sayin "like" more than anybody I ever heard.

Jay: Who?

Beans: Nevermind...

M.O.P.: FIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

Cam'Ron: *walks up to Talib and cuts him off* Yo, this label only big enough for one killa.

Talib: Good, then I got here just in time.

Bleek: HAHAHAHA

Everyone in the room: SHUT UP BLEEK!

Cam'Ron: Yo Dames... you my man and I love you like a wife, but you be feelin some fruity shit. What this nigga be talkin bout, Africa and shit? We ganxta nigga. KILLA!

Talib: *cocks back and punches the shit outta Cam*

Everyone in the room: HOLLA!

M.O.P.: FIIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!

*to be continued*

*Memphis Bleek walks into the kitchen, holding little Destiny*

Bleek: She fell asleep in the truck. I guess she don't like weed that much. She was coughin and shit.

*Nas, rendered completely speechless, snatches his daughter from Bleek's grasp and carries her out of the house.*

Bleek: What's his problem? Nas lookin ass nigga.

LMAO