Some kids are stuck in a world where they’re “horrible” parents pay for everything they’ll ever fucking own, but that’s just so “suffocating” so they turn “badass” by smoking a cig or two and kissing some people of the same sex while they’re “trashed” just so they can post the story and “pix” all over their 5 xangas and myspaces.
The “alternative” group laughs at the whiney spoiled sobs loud enough so they can hear because even if they are stronger because of cheerleading camp, deep minds have a lot of built up hidden rage that would work well in a fight scenario. Even funnier than the rich kids are the ones who trail behind and try to look “hott” with their extra small Hollister shirts on their large bodies, and label name hang bags. They spend their time talking about nothing, listening to bands that have been somehow pulled from the “I love unknown bands” wreckage, and hanging at coffee shops.
The bottom of the pit is filled with ganstas, hard core geeks, goths that live in Spencer’s, and whores who are pregnant before they leave the 70 year old hell hole that is bel air high.
“bring your step brother and we’ll make it an orgy. make sure to bring your camera!”
Next time you come to Bel Air, knock on a random door to score some home grown weed(if they don't, try the next door) and bang their mom. It's ok, you are in Bel Air.
Guy2: If i can bang your mom.
born and raised
on the playground is where I spent
most of my days
chilling out, maxing
and relaxing all cool
and all shooting some b-ball
outside of school
when a couple of guys
they were up to no good
started making trouble in our neighborhood
i got in one little fight and my mom got scared
she said your moving
in with your auntie and uncle in Bel-Air
And said "you're moving with your auntie and uncle in bel-air"
I begged and pleaded with her the other day
But she packed my suitcase and sent me on my way
She gave me a kissin and she gave me my ticket
I put my walkman on and said I might as well kick it
First class, yo this is bad,
Drinking orange juice out of a champagne glass
Is this what the people of bel air are livin like,
Hmm this might be alright!
I whistled for a cab and when it came near the
Licensplate said fresh and had a dice in the mirror
If anything I could say that this cab was rare
But I thought now forget it, yo homes to bel-air
I pulled up to a house about seven or eight
And I yelled to the cabby "yo homes, smell you later!"
Looked at my kingdom I was finally there
To sit on my throne as the prince of bel air
"Who are you? You smell."