Cancer comes in many different forms and can attack almost any part o’ the human anatomy.
When the disease is present, abnormal cells begin to grow and reproduce, goin’ beyond their regular boundaries to invade other parts of the body, destroyin’ the surroundin’ healthy tissue and organs that reside there.
Some cancers are fast to act. Growin’ rapidly visible in the form o’ tumours, they are quick to multiply and demonstrate a discernible zeal to work on a strength by numbers basis. Like a pack of hungry wolves, these malignant growths operate in unison, tearin’ away at and consumin’ the courier from every angle in expeditious fockin fashion.
Other types of cancer are not so merciful. Instead of takin’ the swift approach, they instead corrupt the body with deliberate and purposeful care, bringin’ about perilous long-term consequences for the victim. Unlike the ulcerated versions of the disease that are far easier to spot, these insidious forms o’ cancer go about their business entirely under the radar, slowly reducin’ their prey with a painful yet artful diligence.
Blacktooth, Draco, Aarman Fidel… You motha fockers know I be talkin’ about the three o’ yo white asses. After all, each o’ you have been festerin’ wounds on Arcadia’s anatomy for some fockin time now.
Ya know, ever since our paths first crossed, Blacky, you’ve been gettin’ up in my grill for one reason or another.
Like a big ol’ fat tumour steak, you ain’t exactly hard to miss, but in case I hadn’t noticed you and your girlfriends spreadin’ like a cluster o’ cell abnormalities, you decided to make things personal between you and I. You led your pack o’ wolves to my crib and your malignancy heralded you to grow rapidly more perceptible to a nigga’s eye when you decided to sink your teeth into my affairs.
I take some o’ the responsibility for that; I trusted you too easily, dawg.
I foolishly allowed those girls to run straight into the arms of a carcinogenic freak, and you returned my act o’ kindness by feastin’ on my commodities and chowin’ down my motha fockin profits.
As for you other two jabronis? Unlike that hooker eatin’ piece o’ white trash, you pair o’ suited-up cankers are in the business of playin’ the long game, aintcha?
When it comes to Blood Runners, you know what you’re gettin’ with those motha fockers. If nothin’ else they be quick and to the point.
Whereas you two? You’re nothin’ more than leeches; parasites on the skin o’ society that target their victims and permeate the layers of tissues and organs subtly, gradually weakenin’ them to shadows of their former selves through true craft and industry.
Well not today, homies, and not anymore on this nigga’s watch.
At Invasion, Big Slim will remove Arcadia’s of its swollen goods.
I’ll show cancer whose boss and kick its ass down the street like a motha fockin can.
It ain’t nothin’ terminal, boys; just a bit o’ business between us that needs address, ya feel?
Invasion? It’s just like any other day in truth.
And as you bozos already fockin know…
That ain’t gonna mean no white boy day.