MJ was about those average everyday sluts

[blackzeus]

 

[Goat poster]

Ahmad is a ol fake black Muslim c00n.

Dissing dark women

 

[Hawaiian Punch]

So even The His Airness cannot escape the allure of a big white women.

shyt that nikka from north carolina so you know he gonna like 2 things: fried chicken and fat white girls.

Ima keep it a 100 tho, sometimes you gotta go in the trenches and smash an undesirable ho. shyt make you feel powerful having some ho nobody wants worshipping you like God himself. Sure MJ could find a dime to do that to, but most likely they want some shyt after. That fat white girl will take a pounding and shut the fukk up after. No surprise we just hearing these stories a decade later, from people other than the fat girls

 

[Goat poster]

And I know many bad Indian bytches.

 

[Danie84]

As long as they weren't black, right Mike

 

[Renkz]

Jordan, Woods, and Rashard are great friends who all are on the Brigade

 

[GetSomeMoney]

He was trying to get that Johnson and Johnson money, had to take the L to do it

 

[blackzeus]

He was trying to get that Johnson and Johnson money, had to take the L to do it

A billion dollars isn't enough to hit that.

 

[Constellations]

The 15 Hottest Girlfriends of Tiger Woods | Total Pro Sports

Looks like he pulled all those bytches from a 70's porn mag :tigermerchant:

 

[Majestic Pape]

A billion dollars isn't enough to hit that.

I'd hit it for $500.

 

[blackzeus]

I'd hit it for $500.

You think you would, then she drops her skirt and her plumber belly flops down and covers her p*ssy. You then and bounce

 

[dennis roadman]

Robert Ryans hung with Jordan from a distance. After almost every home game, Jordan would cool down at Zola, the spy-chic restaurant a block from the MCI Center. Joining him in a rear dining room would be Oakley, Ewing, and sometimes one of Jordan's brothers. And after almost every home game, Ryans would trek in from his Bethesda office, perch himself at the Zola bar within shout-out distance of Jordan's crew, and set up a sort of satellite office of testosterone.

Ryans arranged his social calendar to take full advantage of Jordan's wattage. On game nights, women crowded Zola's bar top and the barroom walls, hoping to catch a flash of that minted Michael smile. As Ryans describes it, they would stare at Jordan as he ate pasta and they worked themselves into a heat, exchanging fantasies of what they would let Jordan do to them if given a chance. The long nights, the body shots...

But lucky for Ryans, they weren't very aggressive about making dreams a reality. At Zola, an unspoken rule governed the passions: You didn't break the Jordan circle. You could look, you could say hi, but you couldn't sit at Jordan's table unless invited. The megavolts of female sexual energy threatened to overload the circuits, and that's when Ryans, with a chrome dome like Jordan's, stepped it up.

"They would fantasize about him, and here I am: the alternative," says Ryans, a financial planner, gesturing at his physical attributes to indicate his runner-up value.

Jordan may have been selfish on the court, but at Zola, he was the assist leader. Ryans says that thanks to Jordan, he scored every night. "It worked out 100 percent. Not 20 percent, not 80 percent. One hundred percent."

He revises the calculation: "Almost 100 percent." On the Saturday after Jordan left, Ryans drank alone.

no shame in breh's game

 

[PortCityProphet]

no shame in breh's game

bro ate like he was part of the entourage

 

[Illuminatos' Hairline]

 

[Won Won]

If its white it right even if she barely aiight