Da followin rap was freestyled by a thugged-out detectizzle whom, afta analyzin vizzle evidence, witnizz accounts, n' tha vizzle fronted ta done been peeped it, pimped a story. This is dat story.
Dat shiznit was late at night on a typical Tuesdizzle evening. I was surfin tha internizzle as I had two big-ass coffees from mah local fruity-ass malt liquor shop earlier dat dizzle n' was unable ta chill fo' realz. After watchin pointless YallTube vizzle afta YallTube vizzle, I came across a strange title up in tha related vizzlez bar. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. None of tha charactas waz of tha Gangsta language; however, tha shapez of tha charactas seemed ta resemble lyrics, although I couldn't like decipher em. Curious, I clicked on tha vizzle.
I suddenly fuckin started ta hear various creaks n' groans comin from mah house. I whirled round n' grabbed a nearby basebizzle bat, locked n loaded fo' a gangbangin' fatal battle. To mah surprise, there was no intrudaz up in tha house, nor any signz of a gangbangin' forced entry fo' realz. All tha doors was also locked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Figurin I was just goin crazy, I shrugged mah shouldaz n' lazily strutted back ta mah room.
I had dropped a shitload of scrilla on a high bandwidth connection, so I was perplexed dat tha vizzle I had clicked on had not loaded yet. I impatiently clicked tha vizzle four mo' times up in a attempt ta brang it up fo' realz. After what tha fuck seemed like a eternitizzle of waiting, tha page finally loaded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da background was black n' it straight-up hid all of tha text, except fo' tha username of tha uploader n' tha description, both up in crimson red. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da username of tha uploader was "NightmareSLUMBER" n' tha description read as such:
How tha fuck all salty ta yo thugged-out ass.
Yo ass is unaware of mah demonic presence up in yo' game.
I'ma destroy every last muthafuckin thang you stand for.
Worthless coward.
I be always watchin yo thugged-out ass.
And soon yo big-ass booty is ghon come ta live wit mah dirty ass...
Forever...
Figurin dis was simply tha idiocy of a twelve year old, I did not heed tha dark shiznit I was in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da vizzle fuckin started wit a picture of a abandoned menstrual asylum (Later found up ta be Denbigh asylum). Da picture was a long, dark, n' tattered corridor extendin past tha viewerz visual field. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da left wall of tha corridor had windows separated by columns. Da corridor was bathed up in a eerie moonlight, only fucked up by tha shadowz of tha columns. Da darknizz of tha corridor was a pure black, tha likez of which I had never seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I gots tha vibe dat tha asylum was hastily abandoned n' never cleaned up.
For tha straight-up original gangsta minute of tha vizzle, dat shiznit was simply a still frame of tha corridor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. There was no sound nor movement fo' realz. At approximately 1:13 of tha vizzle, I noticed a slow but definite movement all up in tha straight-up end of tha corridor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da had a human stizzle but strutted straight-up unusually, most noticeably wit itz head pointed straight all up in tha ground. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da creature accelerated steadily as tha vizzle progressed, eventually breakin tha fuck into a gangbangin' full run. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da creature ran head first tha fuck into tha camera, knockin it over n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Simultaneously, I heard a straight-up bangin bang all up in tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. There was only one, n' it sounded like one of mah thugs had just run tha fuck into tha door.
I jumped up n' grabbed tha bat again, when I heard mah computer cook up a error sound. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da computer then bluescreened at dat point, sayin it shut down fo' safety reasons. Da screen then proceeded ta make note of tha fact dat a unknown hacker had been obtainin shiznit bout mah whereabouts, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. My fuckin antivirus program ran a trace of tha hackerz IP address, n' came back wit a cold-ass lil hood up in Uptown Wales; specifically, tha hack had been made from a abandoned menstrual asylum.
Then tha juice went up fo' realz. At dis point, I became mad intimidated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. My fuckin eyes welled up wit gin n juice as mah breathang accelerated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. I fuckin started ta hear one of mah thugs groanin up in pain outside tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I knew dat shiznit was a gangbangin' fuck up ta go look yo, but I decided ta anyway. When I glanced all up in tha peephole, there was no muthafucka outside tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I could still hear tha groanin though cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. No way up in hell was I openin dat door.
I flew tha fuck into a panic battle n' immediately attempted ta contact police; however, I simply gots a funky-ass busy tone on both tha landline n' mah beeper. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I ran back up ta mah computer ta peep if I could hook it up ta a generator ta ask fo' help dat way, when I noticed dat tha computer screen was still on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In giant red text upon a funky-ass black screen, it read, "GO TO SLEEP".
A piercin scream then rang out. Well shiiiit, it sounded like one of mah thugs was dying. I raced ta tha kitchen n' drew two knives outta a thugged-out drawer n' shit. This was real. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. This was straight-up happening. Da screams gots louder n' mo' desperate. Under tha screams, I fuckin started ta hear a gangbangin' faint but distinct hysterical laughter.
I ran bout tha doggy den tryin ta figure up what tha fuck was goin on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I then heard a sobbin comin from a cold-ass lil closet near mah computer room. My fuckin skin ran cold as I grasped tha doorknob. Dat shiznit was cold ta tha touch. I should have holla'd suttin' before openin tha door yo, but I didn't have tha common sense ta do so. I whipped tha door open ta peep a lil' girl, dead n' bloody, crumpled up in a heap up in mah closet.
Her stomach had been ripped open n' her entrails pulled out. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was entirely naked n' coated straight-up up in blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Da wall suddenly was illuminated wit a red light. I noticed dat suttin' was freestyled up in blood on tha wall.
"Yo ass should have heeded tha warning. Time ta chill like a pimp."
I whirled round n' saw tha figure up in tha vizzle, head down n' every last muthafuckin thang. I froze up in fear. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. With one sudden movement, almost as if I was watchin a vizzle dat had skipped all dem frames, tha figure twisted itz head n' looked all up in mah face. Then every last muthafuckin thang went black.
Detectivez note:
Da victimz body was found up in a similar state ta dat of tha lil' hoe up in tha closet. Despite a shitload of blood tests, we could not identify tha girl. In fact, cuz of tha lack of a missin personz report, tha fact dat no one came forward ta claim her remains or ta try ta solve tha case of tha murder, n' cuz no blood test matched mah playas we tested, it seemed like tha hoe never straight-up existed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Our thugged-out asses have confirmed dat tha jackin came from tha abandoned menstrual hospitizzle; however, there is no explanation as ta how tha fuck dis was timed so close together n' shit. Our thugged-out asses have issued a arrest warrant but no fool wants ta enter tha ruins up in fear of his or her game. Da only break we gots was a witnizz sightin of a mad unusual n' frightenin creature hustlin tha fuck into tha hospitizzle all dem minutes later n' shit. From tha witness' testimony, we noticed a shockin similaritizzle between tha grill of tha deranged menstrual hospitizzle inhabitant n' tha followin image, taken from a joint filled wit horror stories, wit tha lyrics "GO TO SLEEP" captioned above dat shit.
Numerous murdaz like dis have occurred since, n' every last muthafuckin single one of tha suckas has been noted ta peep tha vizzle all dem minutes before tha homicizzle is committed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. YallTube officials have tried ta remove tha vizzle; however, every last muthafuckin moderator dat tries endz up gettin brutally murdered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da case is still unsolved.
Detectivez note 2:
After further researchin tha case, all dem discoveries done been made. First, while I done been unable ta find tha source of tha vizzle, last minute accountz of tha killerz suckas have provided enough descriptizzle evidence ta point ta tha image used as tha background fo' tha vizzle fo' realz. Although dis be a JPEG image n' thus by nature be a still image, rumor has it that, if you stare tha fuck into tha picture long enough, tha image begins ta twist n' contort. Continue staring, n' you can peep a cold-ass lil creature beginnin ta run towardz tha camera. No one has peeped tha image long enough ta peep tha creature come close yo, but enough visual evidence is there ta assume dat it is tha same ol' dirty thug peeped up in tha vizzle. Da image can be found below. View at yo' own risk, fo' yo' game may be at stake.
(Lol dat file aint here bitch)
In addition, I done been searchin fo' mo' shiznit regardin tha killa n' shit. To mah horror, I have found a set of stories online regardin one "Jeff tha Killer". Da stories dictate a serial killa whoz ass pimps his thugged-out lil' psychopathic tendencies all up in tha onset of his cold-ass teenage years, eventually cappin' dem hoes up in his crazy-ass muthafuckin immediate crew. Da most shockin aspect of tha rap is dat Jeff capped his suckas up in tha same brutal way as peeped wit tha Denbigh asylum killer, even goin ta tha extent of both killaz communicatin "GO TO SLEEP" before murderin they suckas. Da most frightenin aspect, however, is dat tha image provided fo' Jeff tha Killa is tha exact same as tha image provided by witnesses fo' tha Denbigh Asylum killer, leadin investigators ta believe dat they is up in fact tha same person. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. For further reading, simply search "Jeff tha Killer" online n' read at yo' own risk.
Da most terrifyin fact of all, though, lies up in mah underground experience fo' realz. After freestylin dis report, I heard strange soundz all up in mah home. Figurin dat shiznit was nothing, I continued bustin research on Jeff. Da bangin noises gots louder n' louder n' shit. I searched outside, thankin maybe a funky-ass bird was fucked up fo' realz. As I stepped ta mah door, however, I noticed movement up in tha window. I immediately attempted ta beeper five-o yo, but gots a funky-ass busy signal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Concerned, I put tha beeper down n' looked toward tha door, only ta peep Jeff starin directly all up in mah grill wit dem cold, dead eyes n' dat horrific, disfigured grill yo. His smile was da most thugged-out eerie thang I have eva seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I immediately pulled up mah glock n' fuckin started blasting. Jeff took off tha fuck into tha night.
I know I be up in danger, so I have set up constant surveillizzle round mah home ta protect mah dirty ass. I still peep bright flashez of light n' hear bangin noises round mah home, along wit tha rare but still horrifyin laughter of which only a legit psychotic serial killa can provide. I don't give a fuck how tha fuck much longer it is ghon be until we catch his ass yo, but, if he keeps makin these mistakes, then we'll gotz a solid identitizzle n' a air-tight case. I feel we is on tha brink of takin his ass in, fo' I keep hearin laughter n' bangin soundz dat is blowin tha fuck up in volume, n' I also be seein a odd orb of light up in tha distance. I have radioed fellow five-o ta tha scene yo, but tha radio has gone dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da light is gettin closer, n' I have mah glock ready. It aint nuthin but his muthafuckin ass. I can peep his wild lil' face. Time tot mntoujiujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujujyhjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj/
Wuz crackalackin' everyone yo. Hoes call me Jeff. I don't like dat dis rap is bein published yo, but oh well. It aint nuthin but not like any of y'all could catch a thugged-out demon of mah caliber n' shit. Da detectizzle is now dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da journal is over n' shiznit fo' realz. And itz like hilarious, cuz, up in viewin dis document, I have logged every last muthafuckin single one of yo' IP addresses n' know exactly where yo ass is. For example: One of y'all works at a Cousinz on Drexel boulevard, one of y'all lives up in Burbank, one of y'all lives on Eastside avenue, one of y'all goes ta Universitizzle n' has a roommate named Becky, one of y'all is goin ta Iowa, one of y'all goes ta is like tha whiz all up in tha piano... Da list goes on n' on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I know where you work. I know yo' playas. Yo crazy-ass crew. Yo crazy-ass loved ones. I know every last muthafuckin thang. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon, all of dat is ghon be taken from yo thugged-out ass. Upon readin dis message from me, you should start hearin odd noises n' feel a sense of fear n' dysphoria wash over yo thugged-out ass. Yo ass will become anxious n' frantic fo' no logical reason. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da bangin aint tha buildin you reside in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but suttin' else. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang like sinista n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang dat wants yo' blood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! If I don't git you, I'ma git dem you ludd n' care about. You, tha one shiverin up in yo' chair n' has a hoe named Jizzica wit whom you live with... Dat hoe mine.
Yo ass aren't safe yo. Heh yo. Hahahaha fo' realz. AHAHAHAHHH!!!!
Yo ass KNOW itz time fo' you ta chill like a pimp. :) I be bout ta be up in shortly.
Yo, sincerely,
Jeffrey tha Killer.
P.S. Whomever is tha one thatz a junior at Kettle Moraine... Yo ass is cute. I be bout ta take mah time up in yo' faaaaaace!