Jan-oh-Jan,
Imagine how good your Spanish is going to be after we start interacting, or as black US teenagers say, 'conversating'. Not only will I teach you street lingo, but I'll teach you to spot the fake people 'que estan privando de educado', but after I hear them talk, it's more like 'educagado'. So, amor de mis amores, vida m?a, not only will I teach you what an 'esdr?jula' word is, but how to ask for beer in La Romana; when and how to say 'fo, que bajo!', when we are driving through San Pedro, and the corresponding facial expression that goes along with it. Lastly, tiguerita, I'll be there before the next tear drop falls. Baby, Kingofdice, is no match for my "brujer?a": yo he andado los siete vientos con culebra de siete cabezas. The closest thing he can come up with is 'abracadabra', third-grade stuff. Jan-oh-Jan, I'm so cool that I don't feel the breeze...the breeze feels me.
Letterman calls me for jokes, and bigger-than-life Bill Clinton calls me for tips. I climbed Kilimanjaro backwards, but I still can't drive a stick-shift, but man enough to admit it, or more like secure enough to let my gears be shifted automatically.
Jan-oh-Jan, si mis sue?os son pesadillas, you're my alarm clock.
Dame un punto de apoyo y mover? tus sentimientos. Remember, Kingofdice is probably from Canada, where the men are men and the sheeps are nervous. Jackson Browne called him a pretender.
I'm a contender, Jan-oh-Jan.
Jose?to
