Normally, both your a**es would be dead as f*****g fried chicken, but you happen to pull this s*** while I’m in a transitional period so I don’t wanna kill you, I wanna help you. But I can’t give you this case, it don’t belong to me. Besides, I’ve already been through too much s*** this morning over this case to hand it over to your dumb a**.
I’m thinkin’ maybe it means you’re the evil man, and I’m the righteous man, and Mr. 9-millimeter here, he’s the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean, you’re the righteous man, and I’m the shepherd, and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. Now, I’d like that. But that s*** ain’t the truth. The truth is, you’re the weak and I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.
Ezekiel 25:17.”The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.”
You’re judging this s*** the wrong way. I mean, it could be God stopped the bullets, or He changed Coke to Pepsi, He found my f*****’ car keys. You don’t judge s*** like this based on merit. Now, whether or not what we experienced was an according-to-Hoyle miracle is insignificant. What is significant, is I felt the touch of God. God got involved.
When you yell at me, it makes me nervous. When I get nervous, I get scared. And when motherf*****s get scared, that’s when motherf*****s accidentally get shot.
Pigs sleep and root in s***. That’s a filthy animal. I ain’t eatin’ nothin’ ain’t got sense enough to disregard its own feces.