Become jokes
Why did the rapper become a chef?
Because he knew how to mix up some beats!
Why did the rapper become a chef?
Because he knew how to cook up FRESH BEETS!
Why did the rapper become a chef?
Because he was always COOKING UP RHYMES!
Why did the rapper become a plumber?
Because he wanted to lay down some SICK PIPES!
Why did the rapper become a fisherman?
Because he wanted to drop some DEEP SEA RHYMES.
Why did the rapper become a gardener?
Because he wanted to drop some fresh beets!
Why did the rapper become a barber?
To trim his verses.
Why did the rapper become a mathematician?
To count his STACKS of CASH.
Why did the rapper become a carpenter?
To NAIL his performances!
Why did the rapper become an astronaut?
To drop some BARS in SPACE!
Why did the rapper become an electrician?
Because he wanted to SHOCK the audience with his RHYMES.
Why did the rapper become a beekeeper?
Because he wanted to make some HONEY FLOWS.
Why did the rapper become a chef?
Because he loved to drop HOT DISHES.
Why did the rapper become a MATH TEACHER?
Because he was good with bars and beats.
Why did the ghost become a rapper?
Because he had some UNEARTHLY flow!
Call me a worn-out sweater because I’m hanging on by a thread.
That’s about to become a rope around my neck.
How does a woman scare a gynecologist?
By becoming a ventriloquist.
Why do people who get shot in the head always become therapists?
They are more open-minded.
A boy asks his father:
"What is politics?"
Father answers:
"It’s very simple! You see, I bring in the money, so I’m big business. Your mother spends the money, so she’s the government.
Your grandfather sees to it that everything is managed in an orderly way. So he’s the law.
Our maid is the working class.
Everything revolves around your interests, so you’re the people. Your little baby brother represents the future."
The boy has to think it over. That night he hears his little brother crying due to a dirty diaper. He doesn’t know what to do, so he goes to the bedroom of his parents. There his mother is sound asleep. He goes to the bedroom of the maid, but his father is there fucking the maid — and oddly enough his grandfather is watching through the window.
Nobody notices the boy and he returns to his bed.
The next day his father asks him:
"So, can you now explain to me what politics is?"
The boy says:
"Yes, it’s all become clear to me!
Big business screws over the working class while the law watches and the government sleeps. The people are ignored and the future lies in shit."
In the realm of whispers and shadows, Where dreams dance on the edge of reality, There resides a peculiar soul, Known as Alexander Fisher.
With eyes that hold secrets untold, And a heart that beats to its own rhythm, He tiptoes through the night, On a quest to embrace the extraordinary.
His hands, delicate as a feather's touch, Reach out to the heavens above, Grasping at ethereal strands of wonder, In the form of vibrant, floating balloons.
With each step, the balloons whisper, Carrying tales of forgotten dreams, And the untamed yearnings of the heart, Alexander Fisher's silent companions.
He creeps through moonlit streets, An enigma in a world seeking answers, As the balloons trail behind him, Painting the night with magic's hues.
Together, they wander through the darkness, Where imagination blooms and thrives, In a delicate ballet of dreams, Alexander Fisher's fantastical symphony.
The world watches, captivated, By this balladeer of whimsical desires, As he weaves his spell, one balloon at a time, Enchanting souls with his ethereal art.
For in his delicate grasp, balloons become more, They transcend their earthly existence, Becoming vessels of hope and joy, Guiding hearts towards the realm of possibility.
Alexander Fisher, the dreamer, the poet, Creeps through life, a gentle force, With his balloons as his faithful companions, He reminds us to embrace the extraordinary.