First of all I’d like to give a shout out to my peeps: Sage, Amber, Spike, Captain and finally my main K-9, Scoots. Now it’s time to get down ta business. What’s up with all you punks pissin’ all over my sh*t? Listen, y’all, I go to a whole lotta trouble everyday markin’ my territory and sh*t, only to have a select few of you suckas comin’ by afta to piss all over ma stank. Let me tell ya, if I catch any of you chumps foulin’ up my sh*t with yo skankin’ asses, I’m gonna pop a cap in yo ass.
First of all, the bushes up front, they’s mine. The mailbox, mine. The tree, mine! And those rose bushes, THEY’S MINE TOO! Keep your piss off my sh*t, a’ight! And don’t get me started on the punk who’s been wipin’ his worm-ridden acorns on my lawn! Listen, punk, I know the smell of yo silly ass now and let me tell you, if I catch yo nasty butt scoochin’ ass here again, I’ll beat them worms out. That’s right, biatch, I’ll get rabid on yo ass. You best not be the same fool who’s been shattin’ everywhere neither. You know who you are, and you gots anotha thing comin’.
Oh, yeah, and the flowerbed. Some stanky-ass cat’s been burying his turds there too. Listen up “sh*tty kitty” I’m gonna tear yo furry ass up. You’re gonna find yourself in a world of hurt, ma man. And I’m gonna be stand up and letcha know that just because it be cold out and sh*t. it don’t give you no right to be climbin’ all over my master’s (yeah right, f-him) fine ride, just so’s you can warm yo silly ass on his engine. Come over again and we’ll play Oh My Gawd, The Cat’s On Fire; that should keep you warm enough, chump.
Man, don’t you peeps have any respect for the Dawg’s belongins? I’m gonna have to talk to my master (yeah right, f-him) and have him put some fricken land mines or somethin’ in the damn yard. That’ll teach you punks ta respect my sh*t. Yeah, that’s right, all you nutless fools will get what’s comin’ to ya.
So the next time any of you chumps even considers comin’ over and foulin’ up my sh*t, be prepared for some repercussions cuz I’m gonna give all you suckas a fistful of fricken lamb and rice ta the head. And stay the hell away from Amber too, she’s my beeatch!
Dawg out! Woof!