Talk jokes

Two to the one from the one to the three, I like good pussy and I like good trees, Smoke so much weed you wouldn't believe, And I get more ass than a toilet seat.

Three to the one from the one to the three, I met a bad bitch last night in the D, Let me tell you how I made her leave with me, Conversation and Hennessey.

I've been to the motherfuckin' mountain top, Heard motherfuckers talk, seen and dropped, If I ain't got a weapon I'ma pick up a rock, And when I bust yo ass I'ma continue to rock.

Getcha ass of the wall with your two left feet, It's real easy just follow the beat, Don't let that fine girl pass you by, Look real close 'cause strobe lights blind.

So my brother said we should start a band, and I said I already had a band. So I gave him my band and he said he was talking about music, and I said, "Well, I do have a trum-bone ;)"

What did Caesar’s cat say to him? Nothing. Cats don’t talk.

Brendon, just shut up, no one was talking to you on the fucking joke! And my sis is not a female dog. If she was, then how the hell would she spell!

Toilet: hi You: hi what?

Would you steal 20 dollars from a stupid 6 year old kid with Down syndrome who can't talk and make ah ah ah noises, or get one dollar for saying the N word?

Bully: "You are so stupid!"

Classmate: does nothing.

Bully: "Oi, I'm talking to you!"

Classmate: "Oh, you're talking to me? I thought you were talking to yourself."

"Just say NO to drugs!" Well, if I'm talking to drugs, I probably already said yes.

Wade, you're a joke. The worst joke.

Hoped this would be a safer, more fun place to talk to my BP friends, but I guess not.

I've also learned that some people think "worst jokes ever" = "terrible unfunny jokes that make light of people who died horribly or otherwise suffered" instead of things like "why did the chicken cross the road?"-type jokes.

Maybe I'm just too old at this point.

I was talking to my old friend. They said, "We should hang out more!"

I said, "You mean we should ketchup?"

This is the account of music provider just let you I post for the enjoyment of myself, and to spread different kinds and types of music willingly. I do not respond for the soul reason of ✨people✨ and do not take offense to anything that I post. If you have and issues or just wanna talk contact me i'm only discord so that's all you getting (not being rude) ill put my discord in the comments.

I talked to a future suicide bomber. I told him, "ISIS ain't got sh** on me because I planted a bomb and lived."

We were at a restaurant today, and my dad was talking about a place called Sea Ranch.

I asked, "What do they raise there? Sea horses?"

Roses are red, I hate snitches, You talk a lot of game for a guy with 3 inches.

Dear Hearing People,

We, deaf people, ain’t dead. We can use our hands to talk, eat & fist your face to give you some 💡 awareness that we can understand you 💯 meanwhile we laugh at you 🤡 We can even dance via vibration through music.

Do you know the song w lyric like this 👇 *white b.... accent: Ohhh.. MY God BECKY.. L👀k at her butt. IT is SO BIG. *BIG BEAT DROP* I...LIKE...BIG...BUTT...I cannot LIE 👻 I promise we ain’t ghosting around - Brittany Rose.

The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"

Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!

The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.

For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!

The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!

In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.

"The little horse wins!"

"Lath, an easy winner!"

"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"

People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.

Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.

"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."

Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.

A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.

"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"

Agba leaned forward in his saddle.

There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."

How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.

The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.

Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.

He had kept his word!

For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.

The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in...

Ok, so I'm bored, depressed, and lonely. Someone wanna talk?

What's the difference between Andy and acne?

Acne waited until Adam could talk before coming on his face.

How to Make an Orphan cry

Step 1: Talk about Home.

Step 2: Ask them where their parents are.

Step 3: Say, "Bye Bye," and push them in the Batmobile!

Isn't it ridiculous to hear INBRED WHITE TRASH RACISTS talking $#iT about OTHER "Cultures"?