Sucked Into The Vortex Of Hell. Again.
Writing this blog today is akin.
On par.
To reaching for and securing my 23 inch Winchester Bowie Knife and Scraping my rectal cavity for 3 hours.
One would think that to completely stop, halt as it were, that I would adhere to the self imposed program of NOT Engaging Mr. Clicker and Hitting Up FOX NEWZ into the beginning of my second cup of heavenly Bustello with a multi berry green tea float.
But oh the fuck no.
For sure I am Masochistic on a level the Psychiatric community has not even deduced.
Thanks Fox Newz.
Where I am going is Do Not feature car people who have not a clue.
The 1967 Pontiac Firebird WAS NOT Pontiac's first venture into muscle cars.
Pontiacs venture into muscle cars began in 1962 with Pontiac's Catalina.
This Girl came out of the factory strutting 2 doors powered by Pontiac's 421 cubic inch motor.
Pontiac's Second Venture Into Muscle Cars Was My Very First Automobile A Brand New 1964 Pontiac GTO Coupe.
That car screamed.
To the point of literally having to STAND on the breaks to slow Betsey down.
Never to a full stop, instead a 45 foot drag up to the stop light.
Still standing on the kinda sorta power breaks.
1964 Pontiac GTO Coupe
If Anyone Finds These Particular Wheels Anywhere.
For Real Contact Me Here In Da Swamp.
I Got This Sexy Girl Sold For Major Bukoo.$$$$$$$$$$
I saved every dollar I made from 11 years old, the time I started working for Mr. Levin who owned the around the corner newz paper stand in Da Hood.
Now if all that was not enough. Mr. Fox Newz, Car Not Expert.
Pontiac's first entrance into the muscle car arena was the 1962 Pontiac Catalina Hard Top Coupe.
This Nuclear Bomb came equipped with Pontiac's Super Duty 421 engine.
This Pedigree Princess kicked out, officially, claimed Pontiac, 405 BHP.
The real story regarding this Princess's rear heel blast was actually 460 BHP.
This Girl was Street Legal, but like any real Princess, Girl Race Ready with just four-bolt mains, forged rods and crank, solid lifters and NASCAR heads.
Screamin down the tarmac.
If all that was not enough The 1962, 1963, up until 1965 Catalina's equipped with the 421 Engine was the fastest show room production car.
On Da Planet all the way up into the early 1990's.
Fewer than 180 were built in their first year.
These Girlz were so fuckin, screamin fast that they would blow out Pontiac's Automatic Transmissions.
Hence forth these Monsters came equipped with either three or four speed manual transmissions
Other Super Duty options included aluminum front-end body clip and a weight-cutting modified frame.
These modifications saved 110 pounds.
Pontiac would even fit aluminum exhaust manifolds to save 40 more pounds, but warned that they were only intended for quarter mile competition as they would melt if they were subject to more heat.
Performance: 389/348: 0-60 in 8.2 seconds 1/4 mile in 15.5 seconds @ 93 mph.
1962 Pontiac Catalina 2 Door HardTop
I ain't gonna lie.
A 1967 Pontiac Firebird is no Sally Slack Ass.
Nice find for sure.
But absolutely NOT Pontiac's First Venture into the World of Muscle Cars.
Nice Try Fox Newz.
Vintage Sports and Race Cars has been my Bidnezz for... My Entire Life.
That's all He wrote.
For this week.
Maybe longer.
Thank Ya All My Insane Readers.
Cause Without Insanity Runnin Through Your Viens You Wouldn't Be Reading This Hyped Out Diatribe.
Lova Ya All.
Especially You Out There Holden Down The British Isle.
God Bless Your Beatiful Babies Girl.
Semper Fi.
Ryan. Out.
A short trip up and down into the Authors Grey Matter.
This journey Is Not For The Faint Of Heart.
Save The Judgmental Yak For Your Mamma.
ALBERT KING & STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN
"Born Under A Bad Sign"
"Born Under A Bad Sign"
One, two
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Hard luck and trouble is my only friend
I been on my own ever since I was ten
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
I can't read, haven't learned how to write
My whole life has been one big fight
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
I ain't lyin'
If it wasn't for bad luck I wouldn't have no kind-a luck
If it wasn't for real bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Wine and women is all I crave
A big legged woman is gonna carry me to my grave
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Yeah, my bad luck boy
Been havin' bad luck all of my days, yes
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Hard luck and trouble is my only friend
I been on my own ever since I was ten
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
I can't read, haven't learned how to write
My whole life has been one big fight
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
I ain't lyin'
If it wasn't for bad luck I wouldn't have no kind-a luck
If it wasn't for real bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Wine and women is all I crave
A big legged woman is gonna carry me to my grave
Born under a bad sign
I been down since I begin to crawl
If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all
Yeah, my bad luck boy
Been havin' bad luck all of my days, yes
ALBERT KING & STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN videos - Born Under A Bad Sign
"Hit 'Em Up" lyrics
2PAC LYRICS
 | Play Song |  |
[Tupac]
I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked your bitch
You fat motherfucker (Take Money)
West Side
Bad Boy Killers (Take Money)
You know who the realist is
niggas we bring it to (Take Money)
(ha ha, that's alright)
First off, fuck your bitch
And the clique you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
niggas fuck for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming
While we running for your jewels
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie
How I'll leave you
Cut your young ass up
See you in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So fuck peace
I'll let them niggas know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night (ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
fuck with me
And get your caps peeled
You know, see
[Chorus:]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, uh
Who shot me,
But your punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
nigga, I hit 'em up
Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
You all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on you
bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
(ah yo, yo, hold the fuck up)
Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little move pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting traps
Little accident murderers
And I ain't never heard of you
Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving you
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank
'cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block
I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of you nigga
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour
I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of me
You in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Sherm high
niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn motherfucker you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But it's funny to me
All you niggas living bummy
While you fucking with me?
I'm a self made Millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air (Air) (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Now I'm back to set the record straight
With my A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers.
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin' pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim is you
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the fuck?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia clique moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked
You's a beat biter
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker
Soften than Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
E.D. I mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia clique
Dressing up trying to be us
How the fuck they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uh)
You wanna fuck with us
You Little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You're fucking with me, nigga?
You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
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