What do strippers and butter have in common?
Both spread for bread.
How do rappers make their money?
By dropping dimes.
Why did the ass start a gardening service?
It was great at dropping SEEDS.
What did the rapper say at the bakery?
"I need ALL the dough you got!"
People claim that Trump has Russian ties. That’s not true, just some crazy conspiracy theorists. All of Trump's ties are made in China.
Why was the rapper so good at math?
Because he could count bars like NOBODY’S BUSINESS
Why don't rappers ever play baseball?
Because they're too busy dropping hits!
Why did the rapper become a banker?
Because he wanted to make some BIG BANK DEPOSITS!
I used to be a baker, but I decided to quit my job and stick my dough inside WOMEN’S bakeries.
"If you're good at something, never do it for free."
Rapboat's mom charges $5 a blowie.
Why did the rapper open a bakery?
To make some DOUGH on the side
Why did the rapper become a beekeeper?
Because he wanted to make some HONEY FLOWS.
In Israel, they don't have Walmarts; they only have Targets.
I’m going to open my own Mexican restaurant and call it boarder patrol.
The boss wondered why one of his most valued employees was absent, but had not phoned in.
Needing to have an urgent work problem resolved, he dialed the employee's home phone number and was greeted by a child's whisper, "Hello."
"Is your Mummy home?" he asked.
"Yes," whispered the small voice.
"May I talk with her?"
The child whispered, "No."
Surprised and wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, "Is your Daddy there?"
"Yes."
"May I talk with him?"
Again the small voice whispered, "No."
Hoping there was someone with whom he could leave a message, the boss asked, "Is anyone else there?"
"Yes," whispered the child, "a policeman."
Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee's home, the boss asked, "May I speak with the policeman?"
"No, he's busy," whispered the child.
"Busy doing what?"
"Talking to the ambulancemen and the Fireman," came the whispered answer.
Growing more worried as he heard a loud noise through the earpiece on the phone, the boss asked, "What is that noise?"
"A helicopter," answered the whispering voice.
"What is going on there?" demanded the boss, now truly apprehensive.
Again, whispering, the child answered, "The search team just landed a helicopter."
Alarmed, confused, and a little frustrated, the boss asked, "What are they searching for?"
Still whispering, the young voice replied with a muffled giggle..."Me!"
People claim that Trump has Russian ties.
FAKE NEWS!
All of Trump's ties are made in China.
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."
Dying mall be like...
"Toys" were us.
Goodbye, kitty.
Dying Canes.
In fields of gold, where sunshine beams, Monkeys swing and play, it's their dreams. Their fur so soft, their eyes so bright, Picking cotton with delight.
Their little hands so quick and neat, Plucking the cotton, can't be beat. They chatter and laugh, they dance and play, In the fields all day, they'll stay.
Their tails so long, their ears so big, They're quite the sight, it's quite a gig. They're busy as can be, you see, In the fields of cotton, they're free.
So let us marvel at these little thieves, In the fields of gold, they give and receive. Their antics bring us joy and delight, In the fields of cotton, they're always right.
Why are Indian people bad at Monopoly?
Because whenever they hit the corner, they build a shop.
