I said it must be ya ass, cause it ain't ya face I need a tip drill, I need a tip drill... It must be ya money, cause it ain't ya face You a tip drill, nigga, you a tip drill

My father compounded with my mother under the dragon's tail, and my nativity was under ursa major.

There are eight lanes on an Olympic running track.

'Montana?' I said. 'You can't call a kid Montana'―these friends of mine were going to call their new baby girl Montana and I tried to talk them out of it, because I'm sick of Australians naming their kids after American placenames, I'm sick of all these Montanas and Delawares and Indianas and Dallases. […]