Hey, Bae. Why you a psychopath, huh? You need a Snickers® or something?

I don’t fuck with bicycles. When I was ten my bicycle and I got into a fight. By the end, one of us was on the ground hurt and in pain. It wasn’t the bike. I don’t fuck with bicyclists either. Majority tend to forget the rules of the road apply to them. But let’s be real, if your bike gets into a fight with my car cause your entitled ass didn’t want to stop at a stop sign, only one of us is gonna be sorry. Hint: it ain’t me.

But the real reason I don’t fuck with bicycles or bicyclists? They cray. Ah, Berlin. A city in a country I been dying to check out. Except some crazy ass motherfucker is over there gallivanting on his bike, throwing acid in ladies’ faces. I’m sorry, say wha??? You’ve gotta have some real serious issues, a real hatred for the female sex to ride around disfiguring strangers in your free time. There have been five confirmed cases, and they’re just now mentioning possible links between them. So either homie didn’t grow up with enough love in the home, or German women are over there just murdering male egos left and right.

Regardless, get your head shrunk, start kickboxing or take all the chill pills. Hoodoo voodoo, kick rocks or get the fuck out. But if you weren’t getting laid before, you certainly won’t be getting that punani now. Let it go, Bae.