I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Little Dashie
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I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Little Dashie

I live mah life, one dizzle at a time fo' realz. A phat portion of dem minutes is uneventful, always fallin up in tha same stupid-ass routine: I wake up, strutt ta work, work, strutt home, then bum around until I git all up in bed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Some times I be bout ta hang wit mah few playas, while other times I be bout ta just play vizzle game or watch I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Little Pony: Hommieshizzle is Magic. Every so often, somethang freshly smoked up n' horny-ass happens: I hook up a oldschool playa, I find a thugged-out dollar on tha ground, or I git chased by a stray dog.

Livin up in a thugged-out dyin hood aint straight-up funk or interesting. This hood was once full of thuglife n' color yo, but now, nahmeean?.. now most of tha houses is sagging, tha bidnizzes sit empty n' abandoned, n' nuff muthafuckin open fieldz lay barren of tha once pimped out factories dat muthafuckin helped drive tha economizzle. I had never peeped dis hood durin dem times up in thug yo, but I have peeped pictures. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah mutha n' daddy lived aiiight, n' they could only wish tha same stupid-ass fo' me growin up.

Sadly, I cannot say I have achieved dat wish of theirs.

I've fallen tha fuck into tha same stupid-ass dull routine: Wake, work, chill, repeat. I do have some momentz of bliss yo, but tha everyday strugglez I go all up in outweigh tha lil' small-ass momentz of joy I have. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Little Pony has muthafuckin helped yo, but itz still just another thang ta give mah hopes up on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Every time I peep tha show, or one of tha ponies on a gangbangin' hustla crib, I recoil a funky-ass bit all up in tha bright colors, tha joyful facez of tha ponies, n' tha peaceful scenery of they ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It aint nuthin but so hard ta peep dat dope ghetto, havin it so close ta mah grasp; I reach up ta bust a nut on itz warm flavas n' bright, smilin facez of tha ponies.

Only ta be stopped by mah computer screen.

I snapped back ta reality. It gets ta tha point where I will simply shut down mah computer n' strutt away. I do dat a lot, especially afta mah muthafathas dirtnap. I go fo' a strutt. When I feel sad, I strutt. When I feel tired, I strutt. When I feel like strutting... I strutt. Walkin has become mah second thuglife up in a sense; I spend at least half mah dizzle outside along tha crumblin side-strutts n' decayin suburbs.

I've peeped playas come n' go. I've peeped buildings torn down, burned up, or have so much graffiti on its walls dat its original gangsta color is unrecognizable. I straight-up rarely pass any other playas on mah strolls. Most playas don't like ta peep they once dope hood, they cribs or forma bidnizzes. I don't blame em. In fact I envy em. They saw dis place wit they own two eyes, seein tha buildings still standin tall n' proud, tha lawns freshly cut, tha paved roads, n' sidestrutts still intact.

Da only thang I've eva peeped dat even comes close is mah motherz paintings, each of dem colorful scenez of dis concrete ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch started paintin once every last muthafuckin thang crumbled beneath her feet, makin tha fucked up scenery before her look dope yo. Her masterpiece iz of a open field dat yielded a parkin garage. Over it, her dope ass drew a dunkadelic rainbow. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah straight-up picture. I guess dat is part of why I wanna bust a nut on Rainbow Dash da most thugged-out outta all tha other ponies yo. Her colors, tha dunkadelic sonic rainboom, all remind mah crazy ass of dat picture.

There done been times I wished I had mah own Rainbow Dash, or mo' realistically a plushie of her, ta curl up in bed with. I've made a oldschool Simba tha fuck into a "temporary" replacement, until I be able ta save enough scrilla fo' one. It muthafuckin helps, up in a way. Like holdin it close will heal mah wounds, mah pain, n' mah sorrow. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah feet, afta countless minutez of struttin up in mah oldschool shoes, pulsate under tha sheet, n' all tha while, I be bout ta hold dat stuffed animal harder than a mutha protectin her child. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It aint nuthin but tha only thang I can peep n' feel legit joy, even if it aint physically tha Rainbow Dash I want.

It will have ta do.

Today, as usual, I strutted ta work. It was tha same stupid-ass shit, just a thugged-out different day, watchin tha same stupid-ass playas enter tha store, grab they loot n' pay, then strutt up wit bags up in tow. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah shift ended afta nuff muthafuckin minutez of this. I clocked up n' started struttin home. I decided ta bust a thugged-out different route dis time, fo' a cold-ass lil chizzle up in pace, a lil somethang different from tha normal path I strutt. This part of hood was hit tha worst; only a gangbangin' few houses still stand, n' none of dem occupied. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It truly be a fucked up sight ta see. Then again, itz straight-up tha only sight I see. Da only sight I be bout ta eva see.

Or so I thought.

I was stopped by somethang unusual; a stray cardboard box up in tha middle of tha sidestrutt. Now, livin up in dis kind of area I peep trash all tha time. Boxes, McDizzlez cups, n' plastic bags litter tha streets n' empty fieldz yo, but rarely will I peep a cold-ass lil cardboard box dat aint crushed up in one way or another. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I noticed dis particular box cuz it happened ta be up in mah way. Durin mah lil'er years, I tried ta do what tha fuck I could fo' tha hood. I'd pick up trash when I saw it, or I'd attempt ta muthafuckin help mah neighbors. It was a losin battle. Now-a-days, I'd given up any hope of cleanin dis hood, much less mah hood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Now I be bout ta just pass tha trash by, lettin it blow away up in tha breeze or sit there n' decompose. I let whatz left of tha "people" do they own things, since most of dem couldn't give a fuckin shizzle bout mah playas other than themselves. Why should I be any different?

I strutted past tha box, barely givin it a glance. Nothang bout it caught mah attention right away. I continued on, mah home not far away now, nahmeean, biatch? Upon arriving, I sat down down n' played some game, attemptin ta push tha box outta mah mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I had lil luck, as tha box somehow managed ta push itz way back in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Time crept on by, n' I soon found mah dirty ass wantin ta go fo' another strutt. I left tha doggy den n' started down mah usual route when I stopped. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! What was it bout dat box dat juiced it up stick up in mah mind, biatch? I turned around, startin down tha path I had taken ta git home, tha path dat I only strutt once up in a funky-ass blue moon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Curiositizzle gots tha dopest of me, n' I wanted some closure.

Within minutes I found it, still chillin there, fucked up n' ridin' solo among tha broken concrete n' over-grown grass. It didn't move, it didn't stand up as if it was special. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. It was a ordinary, brown cardboard box. I didn't wanna say I came up here fo' nothing, so I strutted closer ta it fo' realz. As I drew closer, however, I fuckin started ta notice somethang inside. It was brightly colored, multiple flavas up in fact, n' was like small. Maybe tha size of a gangbangin' few month oldschool Labrador puppy.

I stopped beside tha box, n' looked down all up in tha colorful blob inside.

This is where I currently stand: lookin tha fuck into tha box at a small... something. Fuck dat shit, I know exactly what tha fuck it is yo, but mah dome aint allowin me ta straight-up realize it just yet fo' realz. At first I wanna say itz simply a toy, left ta die along wit all tha other thangs up in dis block. But then I saw it breathing. In fact, it appears ta be chillin. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah handz is sweatin, mah breathang erratic, n' I be blinkin mah eyes tryin ta refresh mah vision.

Each time, tha image stays tha same. Inside, be a chillin... filly... Rainbow Dash.

I kneel down, tryin ta git a cold-ass lil closer look tha fuck into tha box. I can't believe what tha fuck I be seeing. There aint a physical, menstrual, or extraterrestrial way how tha fuck dis could be here...how dat thugged-out biiiatch could be here, up in mah gloomy, dark n' horrid ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I examine tha box further, n' on tha side up in simple pen says "Give ta phat home."

Da first thought dat runs all up in mah mind, besides tha initial "Filly Rainbow Dash up in a funky-ass box", is "Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck would give up a gangbangin' filly Rainbow Dash?"I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah mind is now a mess of thangs yo. How tha fuck did she git here, biatch? Why is dat freaky freaky biatch here, biatch? Why is she a gangbangin' filly, biatch? Her flank is even barren of her cutie mark, meanin her ass is indeed a gangbangin' filly fo' realz. As I stand ta stretch mah chillaxed legs, I accidentally bump tha side of tha box wit mah foot, n' tha inevitable occurs: dat biiiiatch wakes up.

Biatch looks around, rubbin her grill wit a gangbangin' foreleg, tryin ta wake her muthafuckin ass up fo' realz. At first all her big-ass booty sees is tha brown wallz of tha box yo, but then she looks up ta mah dirty ass. Those big-ass black eyes, along wit tha rose-colored rim around them, drive mah ass to, as tha meme goes, explode... twice. Da sheer cutenizz of it all drives me ta kneel back down, n' I can't hold back a smile. I aint smiled like dis up in years, since tha last time me n' mah muthafathas went up ta tha only remainin park up in tha area.

Her eyes continue ta stare at me, n' I stare back. I don't give a fuck what tha fuck ta say, or what tha fuck ta do yo, but I must start somewhere.

"Yo there."

I drop a rhyme yo, but her dope ass don't respond.

"Uh, what tha fuck is you bustin up here?"

Biatch looks around, then back ta mah dirty ass. Da mo' I study her, tha mo' I realize her ass is straight-up lil'; muthafuckin years lil'er than her filly appearizzle up in episode twenty three. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch might not even be able ta rap yet... dat is, if she even can rap up in mah ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da fact dat her ass is even existin right now has me reelin up in confusion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I return mah attention back ta her, n' notice a lil' small-ass shiver of her body. Da fall season is here, n' it can git pretty cold, especially around mid-September.

I aint shizzle how tha fuck ta exactly tackle dis situation; do I take her home, biatch? Do I call one of mah thugs, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck would I even call, biatch? I be a cold-ass lil closet brony, so none of mah playaz know bout mah ludd of tha show. I can't take her ta a shelter... thatz a wack thought up in tha straight-up original gangsta place. Not only would it be a wack sight, she might be taken off ta some lab n' experimented on or somethang just as equally horrible. I have only one chizzle.

Biatch shakes once mo' as tha def air reaches her coat; her wings ruffle as she lays back down n' huddlez her hairy-ass legs closer ta her body ta keep warm. Thatz tha final straw, I can't take anymore. I take off mah own jacket, n' reach down n' pick her up. I git tha initial response I expected; fear. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch begins ta squirm around, unsure what tha fuck I be bustin ta her muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch can't fly yet yo, but her big-ass booty still fluttas her wings as up in prayin fo' a miracle ta happen dat her dope ass do magically take flight. I set her tha fuck into mah jacket, wrap her up so dat her head is stickin out, n' hold her up in mah arm. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch continues ta squirm yo, but then mah body heat begins ta finally seep all up in tha thin jacket n' her big-ass booty settlez down.

"It aint nuthin but all right. Lets git you somewhere warmer, huh?"

I smile again n' again n' again at her muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch looks up ta me wit much confusion up in her eyes as dat dunkadelic hoe tries ta process what tha fuck is happening.

"Don't worry, I aint gonna serve yo' ass wit a muthafuckin A-K. It aint nuthin but gettin late, n' yo dirty ass is gonna freeze up here."

I be thinkin she understandz me, fo' afta I say dem lyrics her eyes return ta they normal size, n' her big-ass booty snugglez her muthafuckin ass mo' comfortably inside mah jacket. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch squirms a lil, tryin ta git tha fuck into a mo' laid back position. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I can feel her hooves n' wings pokin me as her big-ass booty shifts. Then, ta top it off, she rests her chin onto mah arm n' lets up a thugged-out deep sigh, closin her eyes ta drift off ta chill.

I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah ass explodes fo' a third time.

Da entire strutt back, I keep a eye up fo' other playas whoz ass could pass by mah dirty ass. I don't want mah playas else ta peep her muthafuckin ass. I have no way of knowin how tha fuck they would react fo' realz. As usual though, I don't peep a single person. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. It aint nuthin but midnight by tha time I git home; fortunately fo' our asses both, I had turned on mah porch light, otherwise I might have passed dat shit. Bein one of tha few occupied cribs on tha block meant a shitload of darkness. Da hood even stopped hustlin juice ta street lights, so dat juiced it up all tha mo' difficult. I glanced down all up in tha filly, whoz ass continued ta chill up in tha jacket as I carried her muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was no longer shivering, n' felt like warm.

I strutt up ta mah porch, careful not ta make too much noise as I git mah keys out, unlock tha two dead bolts, tha masta lock, n' finally tha door knob, n' open mah door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. It be dark inside, cuz of me leavin while it was still light out. With a gangbangin' flick of a switch, tha single bulb up in tha hallway comes ta life, sheddin some light tha fuck into tha livin room. Most of tha furnishings is mah parent's. Then again, so is tha house. I became tha balla of it afta they passing, n' have done what tha fuck I can ta keep it dat way.

Still wit tha filly Rainbow Dash up in mah arm, I strutt tha fuck into tha livin room fo' realz. As I pass mah gang portrait, I greet it wit a "Yo muthafucka mom, wassup dad." I know they aren't there yo, but knowin dat they loved me, n' dat I gots a straight-up boner fo' them, muthafuckin helps me stay sane, n' ta keep goin up in mah miserable thuglife fo' realz. As I enter tha livin room, I can feel stirrin up in mah arm. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had woken up, most likely when I turned on tha light, n' is now gettin antsy. With no idea what tha fuck ta do or how tha fuck ta tackle tha situation, I set her down on tha couch.

Immediately she jumps outta tha jacket n' looks around, already investigatin her surroundings. I continue ta watch her as she explores tha couch, then continues ta tha fruity-ass malt liquor table.

"What is you bustin here up in mah ghetto?"

I didn't mean ta ask dat up loud yo, but it just sort of happens every last muthafuckin now n' then. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Only seein mah few playaz once up in a pimped out while, I find mah dirty ass rappin' to, well, mah dirty ass all muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! I don't own a pet, cuz dat just means mo' scrilla ta dish up n' I be already strugglin as it is.

From mah question, tha only response be another blank look on her face. That drops some lyrics ta me dat freaky freaky biatch has no clue either. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Then again, what tha fuck else should I expect from a gangbangin' filly dat can't even rap yet.

"Is you lost?"

Da moment tha lyrics left mah grill, her ears fall n' she looks ta tha ground.

"Oh..."

Da realization strikes dat dat freaky freaky biatch has no clue what tha fuck is goin on, where she is, whoz ass I am, or anythang else. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shez beyond tha word "lost": her ass is misplaced.

"Well, until somethang happens, I guess you can... stay wit mah dirty ass."

I peep how tha fuck she lifts her head up, ears startin ta erect once again, n' looks all up in mah grill wit worry. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah lyrics don't sound dat encouraging, so I throw on a smile as I speak.

"Don't worry. I be shizzle whatever brought you here will fix itself within time. Our thugged-out asses just... gotta wait. Is dat aiiiight?"

I aint shizzle why I axed dat yo, but it seems ta do tha trick yo. Her ears perk right up n' her big-ass booty smiles.

Da next few minutes is dropped givin her tha "grand tour" of mah house. Nothang dunkadelic ta see, n' I avoid takin her tha fuck into mah bedroom outta fear dat tha big-ass amount of dirty threadz would swallow her up fo' realz. Afterlyrics, I give her somethang ta eat. I break up some lil' small-ass carrots, n' amazingly I discover dat freaky freaky biatch has some teeth. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Since her ass is still a gangbangin' filly, I wasn't shizzle if dat thugged-out biiiatch could smoke solid chickens like fuckin carrots yet. Then again, her ass is from a cold-ass lil cartoon so I don't give a fuck what tha fuck is "correct" fo' her anyway.

Satisfied wit tha chicken, she findz a cold-ass lil comfy spot up in mah fatherz recliner n' sits. I don't mind, it aint like I sit up in dat shit. I was never allowed ta when da thug was kickin it, so why should dat chizzle even afta his thugged-out lil' passing, biatch? It aint nuthin but his chair. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. But I aint gonna be mean ta tha filly fo' not knowin that, so I let her sit where her ass is most comfortable. I also give her a lil' small-ass blanket ta wrap her muthafuckin ass in, cuz of mah housez current temperature. It aint nuthin but not as cold as it is outside yo, but mah furnace has had problems since before mah muthafathas passing. There was a trick ta fixin it yo, but dat took a dirt nap along wit mah father.

I must have fallen asleep at some point. I honestly expected mah dirty ass ta be wide awake cuz of such a horny-ass event yo, but afta tha long minutes at work n' stayin up ta take care of Dash, mah body had other plans. I aint shizzle how tha fuck long I was up before I awoke yo, but it don't matter; as I close mah eyes, I feel somethang against mah side. I look, n' chillin beside me is tha lil' small-ass cyan filly; her rainbow mane n' tail still, her head restin on tha inside of mah elbow.

I know tha meme gets oldschool yo, but I must say it: mah ass blew up like a muthafucka again.

Layin there, chillin n' curled up beside me had mah crazy ass smilin ear ta ear yo. Her gentle breaths is barely heard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da hairs on her mane tickle mah arm yo, but I hold back any movement ta itch. Da warmth of her body against mah stomach warms mah already weak ass. Though a gangbangin' few months aint a long-ass time, itz how tha fuck long I have wanted a moment like dis y'all. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah own lil pony, a Rainbow Dash plushie ta chill wit n' hold tight fo' realz. And now I gots a real Rainbow Dash, a gangbangin' filly, chillin at mah side; content as though her ass is known me since birth.

Right now, there is not a god damn thang else dat mattas ta mah dirty ass. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah despair, mah sore feet n' fucked up ass all go unnoticed as not a god damn thang else can come remotely close ta tha feelin I have right now; dis joy I be fuckin wit at dis moment as I lay awake on mah couch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is here. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is real. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Right now, her ass is mah lil pony. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is... mah lil Dashie.

It has been only four months since I brought tha lil' Rainbow Dash tha fuck into mah home. I've done what tha fuck lil "research" I could on tha matter yo, but I have come ta no conclusions. I have no idea why her ass is here, n' like frankly, I don't even care anymore. These few months wit her done been da most thugged-out dunkadelic time of mah life. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch has opened mah ass up ta ludd n' joy, among other things. Right now, her big-ass booty sits next ta me on tha couch as I watch televizzle.

Biatch seems ta smoke up tha mornin cartoons on tha local stations, n' I mah dirty ass have come ta smoke up em. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch acts much like a lil' lil pimp would. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then again n' again n' again why wouldn't she, biatch? Another dunkadelic feat is dat freaky freaky biatch has been peepin' ta talk. I aint much of a mackdaddy, or fo' dat matter a parent yo, but I be bustin mah dopest ta muthafuckin help her learn ta drop a rhyme n' read. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I don't give a fuck how, or even where ta begin ta attempt up in teachin her ta write. From tha sheezy they done did it wit they grills yo, but I will let dat go fo' now, nahmeean, biatch? Once she be a lil olda, if I even have her dat long, I will do what tha fuck I can ta teach her muthafuckin ass.

It used ta be dat a year would go by slowly. I would look forward ta tha freshly smoked up year, up in hopez of gettin a gangbangin' fresh start. Now though, I feel as if dis year went by a lil too quickly fo' mah dirty ass. I've decided, since I have no knowledge of her actual birth-date, ta make tha dizzle I found her her birthday. It make me wanna hollar playa! September tha seventeenth...oddly enough, thatz tha straight-up same stupid-ass date dat tha second season of I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Little Pony: Hommieshizzle is Magic aired last year. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I quit watchin tha sheezy afta Dashie came tha fuck into mah life. There was no reason fo' me ta continue, n' honestly, I aint gots much time ta mah dirty ass anymore.

It would be hard ta hide me watchin tha show, n' even harder ta explain tha situation if dat biiiiatch was ta eva peep it, especially at her current age. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch knew her name was Rainbow Dash yo, but I have come ta callin her Pinkiez pet name of "Dashie", n' dat freaky freaky biatch has no problem wit dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch can straight-up communicate wit me now, as well as read English, n' her ass is even startin ta learn how tha fuck ta write with, you guessed it, her grill.

I tried ta "invent" some devices fo' her hoof so dat thugged-out biiiatch could write yo, but it seems freestylin wit her grill is mo' natural than movin her hoof around. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! One thang now shits me wit her muthafuckin ass. Every dizzle her big-ass booty sits at a window, lookin outside. I aint worried bout her bein peeped by passerby's. I be on a thugged-out dead end street, so thatz tha least of mah worries. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still, though her dope ass don't say anythang ta me yet, I can peep tha hunger fo' fresh air up in her eyes. I can't keep her up in here her entire life.

Ha...I keep rappin' like her ass is goin ta be here all up in dis biatch. That aint true. One day, some day, dat biiiiatch will return home, whether it'll be a simple "poof" n' her ass is gone, or all up in some magical spell n' Twilight shows up n' takes her home ta fix every last muthafuckin thang. In mah heart, I hope dat never happens. In mah head, I know it will. It aint nuthin but just a matter of when.

I do hope ta git her outside soon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I've been checkin up a shitload of tha abandoned fuckin shitloadz n' forma parks on mah strutts ta n' from work, seein where tha dopest location would be ta take her muthafuckin ass. Oddly enough, it seems tha park I had played at growin up is tha dopest option. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. That shall be it then, I shall take her ta tha park yo. How tha fuck will I git her there, biatch? Shez still relatively small, so dat thugged-out biiiatch can be hidden inside a jacket or something. Tomorrow is supposed ta be a sick day, anyway.

Biatch done did it fo' realz. After two muthafuckin years up in mah care, n' havin straight-up no knowledge of flight mah dirty ass, I muthafuckin helped her learn ta fly. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shez gotten like big-ass up in only a cold-ass lil couple years, n' it was gettin hard ta hide her when we strutted ta tha park. I gots so desperate ta keep her hidden, I looted a thugged-out dawg costume fo' her ta put on, so dat thugged-out biiiatch could strutt there unnoticed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch was not aiiight. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, I gots some books from tha library n' read up on teachin birdz ta fly.

I would have looked on tha internizzle yo, but I fear dat biiiiatch would become curiouz of it her muthafuckin ass. There is a shitload of horrors on tha internizzle, n' her ass aint locked n loaded fo' dat shit. In hind sight itz bad enough her ass is fuckin wit televizzle yo, but dat freaky freaky biatch has come ta smoke up Spongebob n' Nascar too much fo' me ta take dat away from her muthafuckin ass.

Back ta tha flying. I've been takin her ta dat oldschool park fo' weeks, up in hopes I could muthafuckin help her learn how tha fuck ta fly. There be a big-ass tree there, wit branches stickin up over a sandbox. Da slick spot fo' her ta practice. If she falls, n' I can't catch her, at least she'll have somethang remotely soft ta land on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch fell all muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! I knew dat biiiiatch would fall all muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! There was nuff scrapes, cuts, n' bruises toward her goal yo, but finally, afta nuff weekz of work, she flew. It was only a short distance, bout fifty feet yo, but her big-ass booty still done did dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shez a lil scraped up yo, but her ass is beamin wit pride. Maybe now dat thugged-out biiiatch could fly overhead, so dat tha few playas on tha ground don't notice her muthafuckin ass. I be bout ta have ta peep if dat thugged-out biiiatch can manipulate cloudz like dat thugged-out biiiatch could up in tha show; it would make it much easier ta take her places. Then dat thugged-out biiiatch can hide on a cold-ass lil cloud as we git all up in tha park.

Another thang dat has been brought ta mah attention. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch axed mah crazy ass bout havin her own room. I gots thankin, n' realized tha doggy den do gots a spare bedroom, though mah muthafathas had filled it wit mah oldschool school shiznit from mah lil'er years, as well as nuff muthafuckin of mah oldschool toys. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch might smoke up them, though her ass is gettin olda I aint shizzle how tha fuck entertainin they is ghon be fo' her muthafuckin ass. If dat freaky freaky biatch has her own room, I can git her her own things, so dat dat thugged-out biiiatch can feel somewhat normal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shez pretty smart-ass fo' a gangbangin' filly, n' knows bout tha difference between our flavas yo, but her big-ass booty still knows not a god damn thang bout her origin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch aint locked n loaded yet; tha only thang I can do is keep her aiiight.

I only wish I had a way ta loot her tha thangs dat biiiiatch wants.

If you holla'd at mah crazy ass four muthafuckin years ago I'd be takin care of a cold-ass lil cartoon, rainbow colored pony, I'd call you insane. I probably be up in all realitizzle yo, but I couldn't give a fuckin shit. I be aiiight. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shez aiiight. Todizzle be a thugged-out dizzle fo' celebration, fo' todizzle, mah lil Dashie gots her cutie mark.

I honestly didn't give a fuck how tha fuck ta tackle dat fact. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn't even know what tha fuck it was until I explained it ta her muthafuckin ass. Now her ass is even mo' ecstatic than before. It was a normal park outin yo, but dis time her dope ass decided dat biiiiatch wanted ta peep how tha fuck high dat thugged-out biiiatch could get. I had limited her ta how tha fuck high dat thugged-out biiiatch could fly yo, but honestly I can't do anythang bout what tha fuck her dope ass do up there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. I can't fly, so da most thugged-out I could do is tell her ta be careful.

Somewhere she gots it up in her head ta peep just how tha fuck fast dat thugged-out biiiatch could fly, probably cuz of her bein a Nascar and, well, a general racin fan. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. For some time dat biiiiatch was tryin ta make up tricks n' stuntz of her own, givin dem names. I'd just sit on a funky-ass bench I had fixed up n' cheer her on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. No one was eva around anymore. In fact, on dat block, I be thinkin tha last thug left over a year ago. There is rumors tha entire area is goin ta be looted up by some company however, n' all dis turned tha fuck into a big-ass manufacturin area. I don't give a fuck how tha fuck I feel bout that... but it aint blingin now, nahmeean, biatch? Right now, I be soopa-doopa over come wit joy dat mah Dashie now knows her place. Granted dis aint her ghetto, her ass is still tha same stupid-ass Rainbow Dash from tha show.. Regardless of how tha fuck I raised her, dat freaky freaky biatch has dat same stupid-ass spunk n' attitude from tha sheezy fo' realz. And now, dat freaky freaky biatch has her cutie mark.

Anyway, dat thugged-out biiiatch climbed ta like a height up in a attempt ta bust speed from a gangbangin' fall. Well, all tha right thangs factored fo' her; how tha fuck she positioned her muthafuckin ass, her menstrual focus, n' possibly me on tha ground watchin n' cheerin her on yo, but her dope ass done did dat shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch broke tha sound barrier, n' pimped a sonic rainboom overhead.

Now, I didn't even imagine it was possible ta accomplish such a gangbangin' feat up in mah ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I knew you could break tha sound barrier yo, but muthafuckin do tha rainbow part too, biatch? I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah mind is blown. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, tha initial explosion brought upon nuff broken windows n' busted off hoopty alarms up in tha next county. I quickly rounded her up n' we rushed home before mah playas could arrive all up in tha park. I was dirty none of mah windows was broken.

Da rest of tha dizzle was dropped celebratin. It just so happened todizzle was her fourth birthday. It make me wanna hollar playa! I have no way of knowin how tha fuck oldschool she muthafuckin was when I gots her, so I just started over. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I would have looted a cold-ass lil cake yo, but cuz of tha boom all tha bidnizzes was closed n' needed freshly smoked up windows. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, we done cooked up a cold-ass lil cake on our own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. Apparently tha hustla fiction writas gots it right: dat thugged-out biiiatch can't bake at all. Granted I aint tha dopest mah dirty ass yo, but it was still a mess. But our crazy asses had fun, she enjoyed her muthafuckin ass, n' she be aiiight. Therefore, I be aiiight.

Though dat was her highlight of tha day, mine was just moments ago. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch has now come accustom ta chillin up in her own room versus wit me up on tha couch. I muthafuckin stopped chillin up in mah room, n' kept her company up in tha livin room up until recently. Now I can chill on mah own bed once mo' yo, but I keep mah door unlocked, so if she needz me, dat thugged-out biiiatch can git mah dirty ass. I had just tucked her tha fuck into bed n' holla'd at her git tha fuck outta ma bidnizz when her big-ass booty holla'd dat shit.

"Git tha fuck outta ma bidnizz daddy. I gots a straight-up boner fo' yo thugged-out ass."

I aint been on tha internizzle in, what, three muthafuckin years now, biatch? I don't give a fuck how tha fuck tha I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Little Pony thang online is bustin, or what tha fuck memes is still kickin it or not. But damn it all, I be gonna say it cause itz true biaaatch! I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah ass blew up like a muthafucka twice biaaatch! For tha straight-up original gangsta time, not only did dat thugged-out biiiatch call me daddy, which dat freaky freaky biatch has done on occasion yo, but she even holla'd... "I gots a straight-up boner fo' yo thugged-out ass."

For a moment, I didn't give a fuck what tha fuck ta say or what tha fuck ta do. I've never been up in dis sort of situation before. But I remembered what tha fuck mah mutha n' daddy used ta do. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, I leaned down n' busted her on tha forehead n' holla'd at her tha same stupid-ass thing.

"Goodnight, mah lil Dashie. I gots a straight-up boner fo' you too."

Biatch smiled at me, then closed her eyes ta chill. I strutted out, turned off her light, makin shizzle her Spongebob nightlight was on, of course, closed her door, then sat down on tha couch. I aint moved fo' a minute now, I be soopa-doopa lost up in thought. Da few times dat freaky freaky biatch had called mah crazy ass "daddy," I didn't be thinkin anythang of dat shit. I could picture why dat thugged-out biiiatch called mah crazy ass dat shit. Bein wit her so much made me accept it as part of takin care of her muthafuckin ass. But tonight when her big-ass booty holla'd dem three lyrics, tha realization finally sunk tha fuck into mah ass. I be her daddy.

Biatch considaz me her daddy fo' realz. And like frankly, I consider her mah daughter. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Even though we iz of a straight-up different flavas, I still ludd her wit all mah ass fo' realz. And it has taken her ta drop a rhyme dem lyrics ta me fo' me ta finally realize dat shit. I be thinkin I have finally done dat shit. I have broken mah hard shell dat had formed when mah muthafathas died. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I've let a thugged-out dope lil filly tha fuck into mah life. I gave her a home ta live in, chicken ta eat, n' now a thugged-out daddy ta love. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch has given me hope, love, compassion, n' now somethang I thought I'd never utter: a thugged-out daughter.

I still speculate when tha time is goin ta arise dat she goes back ta Equestria fo' realz. And each dizzle it gets harder fo' me ta imagine when dat muthafuckin happens. I just hope dat she never forgets me, cuz I will never forget her muthafuckin ass.

I believe Dashie is now at her full size. Roundin up in at bout three feet tall, her ass is straight-up grown. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Though her ass is still only ten muthafuckin years oldschool accordin ta mah math, I believe her ass is muthafuckin mo' along tha linez of fourteen or fifteen possibly up in actual years. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, we bigged up five missed birthdays n' officially movin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Thatz right, movin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Our thugged-out asses moved from mah muthafathas house, props ta me finally savin up enough scrilla, plus gettin dirty at a cold-ass lil casino. Our thugged-out asses looted a sick doggy den a hundred milez away from tha hood. It aint nuthin but gots a shitload of open land, there aint another doggy den within five miles, n' itz just me n' her muthafuckin ass.

Now dat thugged-out biiiatch can fly around all dat biiiiatch wants, whenever dat biiiiatch wants. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is truly aiiight, though her dope ass do miss tha oldschool park. It aint nuthin but gone now, along wit anythang else left up in tha area fo' realz. A big-ass bidnizz looted all tha land up, flattened it, n' built a big-ass factory there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. It was a dunkadelic boom ta tha economizzle, n' playas is startin ta build cribs again! I be glad yo, but... it just wasn't fo' us. That amount of playas would hinder her goin outside, n' I aint goin ta force her ta stay inside all dizzle unless itz drizzlin out.

I've gotten a freshly smoked up thang, one dat pays much mo' than mah oldschool one. Dashie even talked bout gettin a thang yo, but then she remembered what tha fuck I holla'd at her muthafuckin ass. Da look on her grill was heartbreaking. Our thugged-out asses was enjoyin a cold-ass lil cake we made, which I must add our crazy asses have improved upon dat skill, when da hoe brought it up. I clowninly holla'd dat thugged-out biiiatch can't cuz of her bein a pony n' I laughed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch remained silent. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah god I be horrible. I...I just laughed cuz mah daughter is different.

I apologized fo' hours, n' even though her big-ass booty says she understands, I know her ass is still hurt. Lucky, I gots a way ta fix this. Cuz of tha sheer size of tha property, it involves a shitload of cuttin of grass. Tomorrow I will modify a lawn mower fo' her ta use, so dat dat thugged-out biiiatch can gots a thang. I be bout ta even pay her, so dat dat thugged-out biiiatch can loot her own shiznit if dat biiiiatch wants. Though I'd have ta git it fo' her, still dat thugged-out biiiatch can muthafuckin say dat biiiiatch hit dat shizzle fo' somethang fo' realz. Accordin ta tha show, dat biiiiatch was a weather pony fo' realz. And I aint gots her mess wit mutha nature unless itz a thugged-out dire emergency, so there aint straight-up any thang ta be had there.

I still can't believe I've had her fo' ten muthafuckin years now, nahmeean, biatch? I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah god, time goes so fast... I wish it would slow down, so dat I could have mo' time wit her muthafuckin ass. I don't give a fuck when yo, but I have tha sudden feelin our time together is hustlin up fo' realz. All of dis has been too phat ta be true.

Todizzle has ta done been tha worst time of mah life, even mo' than when mah muthafathas died. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Cuz of events I could not prepare for, Dashie found up tha truth before I could tell her mah dirty ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch knows what tha fuck she is, a made up cartoon character from a lil playas televizzle show. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is mad, no, upset beyond all thought. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had locked her muthafuckin ass up in her room yo, but I know mah daughter. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn't stay up in there long. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch opened her window n' flew off, probably tha fuck into a tree ta sulk up in her sorrow.

I be a monster.

I should have holla'd at her sooner, I just wasn't shizzle when would be tha right time. Now we is both sufferin fo' mah carelessness.. n' you KNOWS gettin cable would be a phat thing, give her some mo' shows ta watch yo, but what tha fuck I didn't realize was dat we gots tha HUB station. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I wasn't even aware it was still up, n' find mah surprise tha sheezy I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah Little Pony is still even AIRING! It had stopped at eight seasons yo, but still it was repeated.

I remember I strutted up in from work wit some groceries, set dem tha fuck into tha kitchen, n' strutted tha fuck into tha livin room. Thatz when I saw dat shit...

"YAY! SHE DID IT!" Fluttershy had screamed, jumpin wit joy as Applezjack, Twilight, n' Pinkie Pie all sat on tha cloudz wit dumbfounded looks on they faces.

I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah ass sank... I knew dis episode... I remembered dis episode. Even afta seein not a god damn thang fo' twelve years... I still remember dat damn episode. In dat episode, Rainbow Dash performs tha sonic rainboom, much like how tha fuck mah Dashie had muthafuckin years ago fo' realz. At tha time I was still holdin mah keys... n' I dropped em. They clanged on tha wood floor; if her dope ass didn't give a fuck I was home before, she knew now, nahmeean?

"How tha fuck long..." Dashie axed me, no emotion up in her voice.

"I..."

"How tha fuck long have you known bout this?"

"I..."

Dashie turned ta look all up in mah face. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had been bustin up, n' her mane was up in even worse shape than normal.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN ABOUT THIS?!"

I couldn't muthafuckin help dat shit... a tear ran down mah cheek as she yelled all up in mah face. This was tha straight-up original gangsta time up in all these muthafuckin years dat freaky freaky biatch had raised her voice ta mah dirty ass.

And I deserved every last muthafuckin bit of dat shit.

So, I sat down, turned off tha televizzle, n' holla'd at her every last muthafuckin thang. I holla'd at her bout tha show, bout findin her, n' answered any other thangs dat freaky freaky biatch had fo' mah dirty ass.

There was all muthafuckin day.

Most of dem stemmed from tha show, ta which I simply holla'd at her what tha fuck I truly believed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! That though her ass is tha Rainbow Dash from tha show, dat dat freaky freaky biatch her muthafuckin ass be a thugged-out different pony from tha cartoon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I tried ta explain it ta her yo, but her bullheadednizz took over as dat thugged-out biiiatch continued ta lash all up in mah face.

I took it all. I deserved it all. I've been keepin dat wack secret from her fo' far too long. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is now a gangbangin' straight-up grown mare, capable of takin care of her muthafuckin ass if dat biiiiatch was up in Equestria yo. Here, I treat her still like dat biiiiatch was mah lil filly. It aint nuthin but been wack of me yo, but I couldn't muthafuckin help dat shit. I didn't want dis ta eva happen yo, but I knew it would. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I should have done what tha fuck was right yo, but I didn't. It was only a matter of time before she found out, n' she knew dat biiiiatch was different.

After our argument, she flew upstairs tha fuck into her bedroom, n' slammed her door shut. I checked on her a minute later, n' no response holla'd at mah crazy ass dat freaky freaky biatch had flown off. I can only hope dat dat thugged-out biiiatch comes back, or at least, if her dope ass don't, her big-ass booty stays away from any other people. If anything, I hope some sort of portal opens up n' she goes back ta her ghetto, n' never has ta be thinkin of me again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. All I can say ta her at dis point, is dat I be sorry.

I be so... so... sorry.

It aint nuthin but been three minutes since Dashie left. Da night of her departure, I did somethang I hadn't done up in a long-ass time: I went fo' a strutt. I wasn't shizzle where I was going, or how tha fuck long I strutted yo, but thatz what tha fuck I did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I strutted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Now, three minutes later I be findin mah dirty ass up here struttin once again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I've been up fo' roughly three hours, n' though it is only five up in tha afternoon, it has grown dark.

A storm is brewing, n' soon I is ghon be gettin hit by tha brunt of dat shit. I turn around ta begin mah strutt home, though I don't rush. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah juice these past few minutes has been non existent, as I have barely smoked anythang mo' than some toast. I feel so lost as I strutt all up in tha woodz dat surround mah home. Fuck dat shit, our home. It be as much hers as it is mine, n' not a god damn thang will chizzle that.

Da drizzle has begun yo, but I do not quicken mah pace. I just strutt, much like I had done so long ago. Da distant memoriez of all mah pain n' sorrow before Dashie begin ta seep back tha fuck into mah mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I aint had these thoughts up in years. Da patz of gin n juice on tha tree leaves muthafuckin help keep me distracted. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. It aint nuthin but a peaceful sound, one you would never hear up in tha hood.

Da drizzle is pickin up as mah hoodie is now soakin wet. I be shizzle I is ghon be sick tomorrow mornin yo, but I couldn't give a fuckin shit. I've been sick fo' three minutes now; a menstrual illnizz dat has been tearin me apart. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah daughter is somewhere up here, hurting, needin some comfort n' warmth up in dis rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I wish I could be there fo' her, even though she may not want me to. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch may not eva wanna peep me again n' again n' again from how tha fuck she acted.

I don't blame her muthafuckin ass... it must be such a wack thang findin up yo' past like dat n' like dis n' like dat y'all. I can't even imagine what tha fuck it would be like. I know Dashie be a phat mare, n' dat thugged-out biiiatch can pull all up in cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce. But I also know how tha fuck dat freaky freaky biatch holdz a grudge at times. I aint shizzle that, even if her dope ass did come back, dat biiiiatch would eva forgive mah dirty ass. Or mo' blinginly, if I could even forgive mah dirty ass.

It aint nuthin but now pourin up here. Da tree canopies is barely holdin back tha torrential drizzle as I be hammered by tha gin n juice droplets. I stop ta look around, n' find mah bearings ta return home. I aint lost; most of dis area is easy as fuck ta traverse once you git used ta dat shit. It aint nuthin but just I be also lookin fo' Dashie as I strutt. It aint nuthin but tha reason why I be struttin up in tha forest up in tha straight-up original gangsta place.

I press on, keepin a steady pace all up in dis rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Suddenly, I spy a large, thick tree. Its stature sticks up amongst tha rest, n' from lookin all up in tha barely wet grass underneath I can tell its nuff branches is holdin back even dis hard rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I need ta take a funky-ass break, so I strutt under tha tree n' sit down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da grass is barely wet, wit only a gangbangin' few lil' small-ass droplets makin they ways down.

This is tha kind of tree I'd imagine Dashie would hide under up in dis rain. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I wish it ta be true yo, but I saw no sign of her as I approached.

I close mah eyes, n' lean against tha tree hulk as I be thinkin bout mah life... our life, together as a gangbangin' daddy n' daughter. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Our thugged-out asses have grown so much as a gangbangin' family, n' done been fortunate enough ta have straight-up few fights. None of dem was as heart-breakin as tha one three minutes ago.

I feel a tear hustlin down mah cheeks as I imagine Dashiez grill again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da anger up in her eyes, mixed wit tha confusion, just tears me apart. I want so badly ta make thangs right, or go back up in time n' stop it from happening. But I can't do either of them. Whatz done is done.

"I be soopa-doopa sorry..."

I drop a rhyme up loud, not carin fo' no one is listening. I be ridin' solo up in these woods, besides tha wild-life. In dis drizzle they is hidin as well, n' tha ones dat aren't is far from a funky-ass bein like fuckin I.

"I be just so sorry, Dashie."

I continue ta cry as I keep mah eyes closed, n' leanin against tha tree. Da drizzle continues ta pour around mah dirty ass fo' realz. An occasionizzle drop hits mah head yo, but I couldn't give a fuckin shit.

Crack

I open mah eyes from tha sudden sound, n' look ta mah left. I be shocked at what tha fuck I peep before me, lookin all up in mah grill wit teary eyes her muthafuckin ass. Dashie, mah lil Dashie, covered up in burrs n' tree sap along her mane n' tail, is standin a cold-ass lil couple feet from mah dirty ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is wet, wit both drizzle n' tears. I hadn't heard her approach, then again n' again n' again bein a Pegasus dat biiiiatch was straight-up on tha down-low n' light on her hooves.

Biatch don't speak, n' instead strutts over ta me, not carin what tha fuck noises she make under her hooves. I don't move; I just sit on tha ground n' watch wit mah own wet eyes. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch looked so horrible, n' yet so dope all up in tha same stupid-ass time yo. Her coat would need a phat cleanin yo, but dat was tha least of mah worries.

Without a word, her big-ass booty sits next ta me, not makin eye contact as she looks off tha fuck into tha woods. I can only peep her, wishin ta gangbang her tightly n' never let her go again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But I hold back, knowin dat it would be too sudden. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Finally, her ass is first ta speak.

"I... I heard you," Her voice then gots on tha down-low as dat biiiiatch whispers, "And I be sorry as a muthafucka too."

I simply smile all up in mah tears; her stubborn attitude was still showin as she always had bullshiznit apologizing, "Dashie, you have not a god damn thang ta be sorry about. It aint nuthin but mah fault, simple as that."

It seems mah point don't git across, as she finally looks ta me wit a sorrowful face.

"Dad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Do... do you still ludd me?"

Now is tha time ta act. I reach over n' grab her, holdin her up in a tight hug.

"Of course, Dashie. I've always loved yo thugged-out ass. I still ludd you, no matter what. Not even a lil' small-ass fight like fuckin ours could eva chizzle that."

Biatch returns tha hug, as we sit there n' cry together. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Our thugged-out asses continue ta apologize, me fo' tha truth n' her fo' raisin her voice n' stormin up fo' realz. After some time, tha drizzle subsides while we remain under tha tree.

"Dad."

"Hm?"

"Can we go home now, biatch? I need a shower, bad."

I let up a cold-ass lil chuckle, n' dat dunkadelic hoe too laughs as I stand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Our thugged-out asses make our trip back home; her ass is smilin again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I be too. I've been givin it some thought, n' I be thinkin I shall give her her birthdizzle present a lil early.

A ticket ta tha Indy 500. Yes, I be takin her ta tha Indy 500. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch can simply sit on some cloudz n' watch while I be up in tha stands. I didn't even have ta git her a ticket yo, but she needz some sort of reminder of her visit. I be shizzle dat biiiiatch will gots a funky-ass blast, n' though I don't expect dis ta make every last muthafuckin thang right, I can only hope it cheers her up some.

With some time, I be shizzle dat biiiiatch will chillax n' settle down bout her bein up in tha cartoon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shez a smart-ass mare, n' knows her ass is real, not dat made up pony from tha cartoon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I can only muthafuckin help push her ta believin that, n' hope her dope ass do tha same stupid-ass ta mah dirty ass.

There be a point up in every last muthafuckin muthafathas thuglife when they have ta let they lil pimp go. Whether it be fo' tha mo' betta or fo' tha worst, it must happen at some point. I now sit here up in mah livin room, by mah dirty ass, sulkin over photographz of mah distant memoriez of me n' Dashie. On her twentieth birthday, I had planned a special outin ta go peep a gangbangin' flight sheezy fo' realz. As we prepared ta leave, there was a knockin all up in tha door.

Never up in tha muthafuckin years our crazy asses have lived there had mah playas knocked all up in tha door yo. Hell, our crazy asses hadn't even made arrangements if one of mah thugs did sheezy up. I simply holla'd at her ta git all up in her room while I took care of dat shit. Once I heard her door shut, calmly n' collectively I axed whoz ass it was knocking, expectin some stranger possibly lost on his or her travels fo' realz. A biatch voice was rappin up in such a elegant, yet attention grabbin tone I felt mah dirty ass listenin ta her wit tha utter most attention. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch axed if she may come in; a question I'd normally refuse within a heartbeat, n' yet somethang bout her voice was reminiscent. I couldn't muthafuckin help but strutt over n' open tha door.

When I first saw tha figure standin on mah porch, I wasn't shizzle if I was trippin or hallucinatin. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Standin there, was tha radiant n' majestic Supa-Hoe Celestia. I was at a loss of lyrics; fightin both emotionz of brony excitement which I had only felt when I first found Dashie, n' emotionz of sorrow fo' I knew what tha fuck dis meant. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch stood there another second lookin at me; we matched each other up in eye level, her body bein tha size of a nearly full grown horse. I stepped back, n' allowed her ta enter. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. What caught me off guard next, was tha five other ponies dat followed suit. First Twilight Sparkle, then tha rest of tha gang: Applezjack, Rarity, Fluttershy, n' lastly Pinkie Pie bounced in.

"Ooooh, so dis is what tha fuck a alien doggy den looks like on tha insi- OH MY! YOU HAVE A KITCHEN! I be starving, is you starving, biatch? I can make our asses some-"

Biatch was stopped by Applezjackz hoof, "Easy there sugarcube. We're jus' here fer Rainbow, so we ain't gots no time fo' any eatin'."

Applezjackz stomach growled, "No matter how tha fuck hungry we are."

I still wasn't shizzle how tha fuck ta straight-up react ta all dis yo, but not wantin ta be rude I offered some left overs, "Uh, our crazy asses have some left overs from dinner last night. You're mo' than welcome ta some."

Pinkie took dat as a "ok" n' ran tha fuck into tha kitchen wit much vigor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. It seemed I did not even need ta tell her where anythang was; she instantly knew where every last muthafuckin thang was placed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Factor it ta either dumb luck or it simply bein Pinkie Pie... I chose tha latter.

"Ah'll go keep a eye on her," Applezjack holla'd, struttin ta join tha hyper pony fo' realz. As she passed, dat dunkadelic hoe tipped her basebizzle cap ta mah dirty ass. I was findin it odd tha ponies was not mo' hesitant around a cold-ass lil creature like fuckin mah dirty ass. Then again, tha same stupid-ass could be holla'd fo' mah dirty ass yo, but havin Dashie fo' fifteen muthafuckin years I grew used ta havin such a thang around mah dirty ass. Now, I have five other ponies n' a gangbangin' full sized goddess cow lookin all up in mah grill wit tha same stupid-ass amount of curiositizzle dat I held fo' em.

There was a moment of silence as I watched tha two mares enter mah kitchen n' begin ta rummage all up in mah fridge.

"I be like surprised," Celestia fuckin started, "I had expected a lil mo' resistizzle ta our asses entering."

"Why, biatch? I know whoz ass you all are."

Celestia nodded, "Ah, so you do know then."

"That yo ass is fictionizzle charactas from a cold-ass lil childrens T.V show, then yes. Otherwise why yo ass be all here I've no clue."

Da last part I lied, hopin ta keep mah mind at ease. I knew tha reason yo, but I wanted ta ignore dat shit.

"Oh, I be thinkin you do know, nahmeean?"

I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah ass fell tha fuck into tha pitz of mah stomach. I did know, n' dat biiiiatch was straight ta tha point bout dat shit. Durin all these years, I had anticipated dis moment yo, but as time sticky-icky-icky on dat thought slowly dispelled until it was just not a god damn thang mo' than a minor nip up in mah mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Thatz when it always happens, you know; when every last muthafuckin thang is finally slick n' you aint gots ta worry anymore.

"Um, excuse me sir," Twilight fuckin started, "But from what tha fuck we could figure up Rainbow Dash should be here. Is she?"

I looked ta tha purple mare; I wanted ta tell her no yo, but I knew it was fruitless.

"Shez up stairs up in her room."

"In, her room?" Raritizzle axed surprised.

"Yes, Dashie is up in her room. I wasn't shizzle whoz ass was knockin n' didn't want her ta be spotted."

"Dashie, biatch? I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah my, yo ass is dat thugged-out wit her already?" Raritizzle continued.

I wanted ta punch dat pony so hard right then; how tha fuck she responded insulted me, "Hommiely, biatch? Thatz not even tha beginnin of it fo' realz. And I should be askin you ponies as ta what tha fuck tha hell you did?"

Celestia raised a funky-ass brow, taken back by mah chizzle of tone, "Yo ass see, mah student-"

"I know whoz ass she is, git ta tha chase," I was straight-up short wit her muthafuckin ass fo' realz. As furious as I was, I wanted ta know why they'd bust Dashie as a gangbangin' filly ta some other ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass.

Twilight bit her lip, as her mackdaddy continued, "Yes, of course fo' realz. Ahem, dat biiiiatch was hittin dat shizzle on a spell ta muthafuckin help tha weather crew wit some storm pimpment. Well, they made slightly too big-ass of a storm, n' when Twilight used her magic ta try n' dispel it, it blasted a lightnin bolt meetin her magic. Rainbow Dash was unfortunate enough ta be within reach of tha blast, n' it engulfed her n' busted her to, well, here. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, we is here ta retrieve her, simple enough I'd imagine."

Before I could answer, Dashie called from her bedroom, "Dad, biatch? Is every last muthafuckin thang aiiiight?"

That second mah ass stopped beatin as I looked from pony ta pony. Each onez grill was up in pure shock n' confusion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They recognized tha voice of they Rainbow Dash yo, but her big-ass booty holla'd "Dad."

"Uh... 'scuse me sugarcube," Applezjack started, returnin from tha kitchen, "did ah jus' hear Rainbow call ya "dad"?"

Before I could answer, Celestia started up again, "Do you care ta explain?"

I was lost; all kindsa muthafuckin thangs was hustlin all up in mah mind at once. There was only one thang I could do... n' I had ta do it yo, but I knew I wouldn't like dat shit.

"Go tha fuck into tha livin room n' make yourselves comfortable, I be bout ta be right down wit her muthafuckin ass."

I didn't allow a response; I turned around n' strutted up tha stairs slowly.

"Dad?"

"Yea Dashie, I be comin up. We..." I looked back down ta tha crew of ponies as they watched mah crazy ass ascend, "... we need ta talk."

So thatz what tha fuck I did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I holla'd at her whoz ass was down there, n' dat they was there ta take her back. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had peeped tha cartoon every last muthafuckin so often afta some time, n' found tha wacky adventures entertaining. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had given up any thought dat tha Rainbow Dash up in tha sheezy was her, n' only viewed it as another cartoon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. As I talked ta her, n' explained dat dem straight-up ponies her dope ass didn't believe up in was downstairs, da hoe brushed mah crazy ass off wit some laughs. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn't believe me, n' thought I was playin some joke on her muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, I took her down tha fuck into tha livin room.

"DASHIE!" Pinkie shouted, jumpin onto her cyan playa.

Dashie was quick ta shove tha pink pony off, "Yo, git away from me!" Biatch was taken back by tha sudden amount of ponies fillin our livin room. They all looked ta her wit worried expressions as ta why her big-ass booty shoved her closest playa away.

Pinkiez cotton candy mane went straight as she looked up in confusion.

"You... don't recognize mah dirty ass... do yo slick ass?"

"Fuck dat shit, or any of you," Dashie continued. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It hurt me up in all kindsa muthafuckin ways. I knew these was her playaz yo, but all kindsa muthafuckin thangs have happened differently dat her dope ass didn't give a fuck tha truth fully fo' realz. And neither did they, so I had ta explain ta em.

"I..." I started, "Dashie, take a seat please so I can rap ta em."

Biatch did just that, up in her recliner. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Da entire time she looked at all tha ponies whoz ass occupied tha couches n' center rug up in front of tha fire place.

It was time yo, but first I had ta start wit a question, "How tha fuck long ago was her big-ass booty busted over here?"

Da question caught dem off guard yo, but Twilight cleared her throat as her big-ass booty spoke, "Bout fifteen minutes ago, why?"

I was rapless. Fifteen minutes ago, biatch? Shizzle, her ass is been wit me fo' fifteen years muthafucka! That means a thugged-out dizzle up in they ghetto meant a year here.

"Well," I continued, "It aint nuthin but been a shitload mo' time than dat here."

"How tha fuck long?" Twilight axed.

"... Fifteen years."

All tha ponies, besides Celestia, had they grills agape.

"That don't es'plain why her dope ass don't give a fuck us," Applezjack holla'd.

"Well, thatz tha thing. When I found her, dat biiiiatch was... a gangbangin' filly."

"Come again?"

"From mah math, I be thinkin dat biiiiatch was no olda than four or five muthafuckin years old."

Now Celestia looked surprised.

"Yo ass mean ta tell us, dat you done been takin care of Rainbow Dash fo' fifteen years, since dat biiiiatch was a lil' small-ass filly?" she axed.

I simply nodded, n' looked over ta Dashie whoz ass wore a expressionless look on her face.

"We... she is..." I started yo, but I couldn't hold back mah tears any longer, "I know it aint true...god, I wish it was yo, but-"

"I understand, tha ‘dad’ now make sense," Celestia cut me off, holdin a stern look bout her face. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was thankin, tryin ta piece together up in her mind what tha fuck had possibly happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I chalked it up ta tha magic, bein unstable possibly reverted her up in age.

For a gangbangin' few moments it was on tha fuckin' down-low, besides tha breathang of seven ponies n' mah dirty ass. Finally, it was Dashie whoz ass broke tha silence.

"So whatz supposed ta happen now?"

I looked ta tha bizzatch, tryin ta read her face. No matter how tha fuck phat I had gotten at readin Dashiez face, Supa-Hoe Celestia had tha dopest poker grill I had eva seen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I had no clue what tha fuck dat biiiiatch was thankin, or feelin at dis moment.

"Well, itz like simple. Twilight?" Celestia looked ta her pupil, whoz ass instantly perked up hearin her name, "Do you still remember dat memory spell, biatch? From tha Discord incident?"

Twilight simply nodded, as her big-ass booty stood from tha couch n' hopped onto tha floor.

I knew what tha fuck was goin on, what tha fuck Celestia had up in mind. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch wanted Twilight ta either erase her memories n' start from anew. Or, possibly, I hoped she just simply wanted ta give Dashie her memoriez of they thangs n' time up in Ponyville. I wasn't shizzle what tha fuck ta do, I felt it was right. I knew it was right, n' needed ta be done. I had been spittin some lyrics ta mah dirty ass dat fo' fifteen muthafuckin years as I waited fo' dis moment. But there was somethang I needed ta say before it happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! These ponies was goin ta take mah Dashie away, n' I had some lyrics ta drop a rhyme before dat could happen.

"Fuck dat shit, wait please," I started. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. Twilight stopped, n' looked ta tha sun goddess, "Just, give me a moment wit her muthafuckin ass. Biiiatch please.All I ask, since...since dis is tha last time we'll peep each other."

I had given up holdin back mah tears, n' at dis point was openly bustin up. Da ponies could tell I was hurting, n' Dashie didn't look ta be farin too well either. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, figurin it wasn't phat ta prolong tha inevitable, I strutted over ta tha chair Dashie sat in, knelt down ta hook up her eye level as I spoke.

"Dashie, mah lil Dashie. I gots a straight-up boner fo' you wit all mah ass. Yo ass have done wondaz ta open me up from tha playa I once was. You..." I had ta pause a moment, ta settle down, "... you have brought me so much joy up in mah thuglife dat I can't possibly eva fuck you for."

At dis point, Dashie too had begun ta cry like a muthafucka. That only juiced it up worse fo' mah dirty ass.

"These fifteen muthafuckin years our crazy asses have had together, rappin', playing, flying; all dem done been so special ta mah dirty ass. I just want you ta know, dat I will forever ludd yo thugged-out ass. It don't matter if we aren't biologically related, or of different ghettos. I couldn't give a fuckin shizzle what tha fuck you may eva be thinkin of me, or if you eva even remember me yo, but up in dis biatch, you bein mah Dashie, I want you," I poked her on tha chest, ta physically sheezy I was rappin' ta her, "to know dat fact. If there is eva a problem dat happens, n' you need me, don't hesitate ta find a way ta git me, aiiight?"

I tried ta laugh, passin tha last part off as a joke. It worked, only slightly, as we both continued ta cry like a muthafucka. I could also hear some snifflin from behind me; I could only picture Pinkie Pie bustin up like a biatch much like dat freaky freaky biatch had all up in tha end of tha second episode up in season one, afta Luna n' Celestia had been reunited.

"D-d-do I have t-t-to go d-d-daddy?"

It had been a gangbangin' few muthafuckin years since dat freaky freaky biatch had muthafuckin called mah crazy ass "daddy." Most of tha time it was simply "dad" or "pops". It felt good, knowin her big-ass booty still cared fo' me enough ta booty-call me daddy, much like tha straight-up original gangsta times dat freaky freaky biatch had holla'd it ta me, all kindsa muthafuckin muthafuckin years ago.

I simply nodded mah head, as I stood up. Before I could straight-up grasp mah balance, she jumped up onto me n' hugged mah crazy ass tight. I could feel her tears on tha back of mah neck, n' I returned tha embrace.

"It aint nuthin but yo' actual home, Dashie. Yo ass don't belong here. Yo ass need ta go back ta where you belong."

"I belong here, wit you, nahmean biiiatch?"

It hurt so much ta say yo, but I had ta keep her convinced dat dis was tha right thang ta do, "Fuck dat shit, you don't. Yo ass is limited here, only able ta fly around tha house. Yo ass have no playas, or other ponies ta relate to. I was only takin care of y'all until dis time would come yo, but I never thought it would be dis painful."

It remained on tha down-low fo' a gangbangin' few mo' minutes as our crazy asses held each other tight. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn't fight back, or wanna resist what tha fuck was happening, which holla'd at mah crazy ass dat she knew as well what tha fuck must be done.

"I gots a straight-up boner fo' you daddy..."

"And I gots a straight-up boner fo' you too, mah lil Dashie."

Our thugged-out asses separated, as she lowered her muthafuckin ass ta tha ground.

At dis point all tha other ponies had tears flowing, even tha goddess her muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch had seemed like smug bout knowin what tha fuck had happened, tha time difference n' such yo, but it was evident dat tha age difference was a shock. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch most likely had sposed ta fuckin find a thirty five year oldschool Rainbow Dash yo, but instead found mah twenty year oldschool Dashie.

Twilight stepped closer ta Rainbow Dash, snifflin once before her horn glowed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I knew what tha fuck was coming, it hurt all muthafuckin day... but I knew it was right. It was what tha fuck had ta happen, fo' her, fo' her playas, n' up in a twisted way fo' mah dirty ass. Now I could know dat biiiiatch was muthafuckin goin home, n' would be around her playaz n' could fly where eva n' when eva dat biiiiatch wanted to, without any limitations. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch could smoke up playaz company once more.

"Wait!"

I looked from tha floor ta Dashie, as da hoe backed away from Twilight, "Before I go, I wanna git something."

Before anypony or mah dirty ass could protest, she flew up ta her room. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was quick, n' returned wit a shoe box up in her front hooves. I wasn't shizzle if dat biiiiatch would be allowed ta take anythang back wit her, n' half expected tha bizzatch ta protest. But she remained on tha fuckin' down-low, allowin Dashie ta quickly write down somethang on a piece of paper n' set it on tha fruity-ass malt liquor table.

Biatch looked back ta me, still bustin up yo, but wit a smile on her face. I knew dat freaky freaky biatch had realized dis was how tha fuck it must end, n' knew I knew dat as well. Da box, from mah guessing, was probably her most cherished shit dat she kept fo' if dat freaky freaky biatch had ta muthafuckin bounce. Though it hurt me thankin bout it, I hoped dat freaky freaky biatch had a picture of us. Then again, I also hoped not, fo' dat biiiiatch would be forced ta remember me a ghetto away, n' dat hurt just as much as every last muthafuckin thang else.

"I be soopa-doopa sorry Rainbow Dash." Twilight started. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shizzle happens all tha time. "I...I honestly wish there was another way ta do this. I wish I didn't have ta do this. But..."

"Can't..." Dashie started, "can’t his schmoooove ass come wit me?"

Da stutterin up in her voice holla'd at mah crazy ass dat biiiiatch was simply bustin lyrics her mind, not muthafuckin askin tha question. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Twilight shook her head, unable ta keep eye contact wit her playa as dat thugged-out biiiatch cried before her muthafuckin ass.

"Rainbow Dash-" Supa-Hoe Celestia started, "Dude cannot join you up in our ghetto much like how tha fuck you cannot stay up in his. This was all never meant ta be, n' tha ghetto around our asses was not made ta doggy den yo thugged-out ass fo' realz. And yet..." Celestia looked ta me, smiling, then fuckin started ta look around our livin room fo' realz. All tha photoz of our asses together, all her knick knacks n' belongings strewn around tha room, "... n' yet, somethang dope happened here. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang I cannot explain up in full."

"When I realized where you ended up, I expected tha worst. I figured you ta be ruined, tainted n' tarnished from dis ghettoz wackty. But now, I peep dat itz like tha opposite. That here, dis playa dat has raised you, shows me dat you was up in phat hooves- Or, handz as it were."

Dashie sniffed once, beginnin ta calm down as Celestiaz lyrics sunk in.

Celestia then returned ta lookin at me, still smiling, "I cannot drop a rhyme fo' you yo, but from what tha fuck I peep up in front of me, tha amount of ludd you both share n' have shared together, drops some lyrics ta me dat you raised her as if dat biiiiatch was yo' own. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Even wit tha obvious differences, you still raised her un-biased as ta her flavas, her origins. Yo ass raised her as yo' daughter, which only make dis entire ordeal so much worse."

I absorbed her lyrics, as well as tha other ponies up in tha room.

"So, I must say ta you, dear sir, please do not hold mah student accountable fo' this. It was never her, nor anypony elses intention ta cause dis much hurt ta either of yo thugged-out ass. If you must blame somepony, I would ask you ta blame mah dirty ass. I be tha one dat muthafuckin helped brang dem here, ta take Rainbow Dash back ta her home... away from here."

I just couldn't peep any of em. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah heavy breathang breakin down wit sobs. I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah mind was just goin on her own, thankin back at all tha thangs Dashie n' I did together. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I took a thugged-out deep breath as I spoke,

"...Just how tha fuck could I blame somepony, biatch? For bustin Rainbow Dash here?"

I sniffled, then cleared mah throat as I continued. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I nearly choked up as I searched fo' tha lyrics ta express mah dirty ass.

"These done been tha dopest 15 muthafuckin yearz of mah life. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So, if anything, I feel like tha opposite; I wish ta fuck you, Twilight, n' tha rest of yo thugged-out ass. Nuff props, fo' what tha fuck you did, though not intentional. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Nuff props, fo' all dat came outta dis fo' realz. And finally fuck you, fo' all mah years, mah life, n' mah love... wit Dashie." I tried ta smile at Twilight between tha sobs yo, but she looked on tha edge of tears her muthafuckin ass, n' could only look away, before dat thugged-out biiiatch cried her muthafuckin ass.

Celestia then stood from tha rug she laid on, n' strutted over ta me as I stood.

"No need fo' props, phat sir. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Instead, I wish ta fuck you, fo' takin care of one of mah lil ponies. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch would have never juiced it up without one of mah thugs much like yo ass."

Celestia closed her eyes, n' then leaned her horn towardz mah dirty ass. I didn't move; I wasn't shizzle what tha fuck was goin on as dat dunkadelic hoe touched her horn ta mah head. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I felt a sudden warmth rush all up in mah body. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch drew her horn away, still smilin as her big-ass booty stepped back.

"Thank yo thugged-out ass."

Then, another pony was rappin up.

"Nuff props, sir," Twilight added, finally able ta drop a rhyme all up in her tears.

"Thank ya," Applezjack holla'd.

"Nuff props, darling, fo' carin fo' our Rainbow Dash," Raritizzle spoke.

"Um, th-fuck you," Fluttershy on tha fuckin' down-lowly holla'd.

"THANKS!" Pinkie shouted, as her big-ass booty sprung up ta me n' hugged mah dirty ass.

I couldn't muthafuckin help but laugh a lil from her extrinsic attitude. Better yet, tha rumors on tha internizzle was true; her mane did smell like cotton candy.

I remained silent as I nodded, then looked back ta Dashie, whoz ass also wore a smile on her face.

Da ponies all returned ta Dashie as Twilightz horn fuckin started ta glow once more.

"Is you locked n loaded now, Rainbow?" Twilight axed again, returnin ta Dashie n' startin her magic.

Biatch simply nodded, as dat thugged-out biiiatch closed her eyes n' awaited tha inevitable.

It seemed time slowed down as Twilightz horn approached Dashiez forehead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be a gangsta yo, but y'all knew dat n' mah mind fuckin started forcin random memoriez of our asses together. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I can vividly remember tha splashin of tha bathtub from her bath times, before her big-ass booty showered her muthafuckin ass. I can still taste our nuff failed attempts at bakin n' cookin up in general. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. I still smell tha outdoors from our times all up in tha park, where dat biiiiatch was able ta spread her wings. There was all kindsa muthafuckin memories, dat I simply had ta shut off mah dome so dat I could keep mah dirty ass focused on Dashie.

A single tear ran down her left cheek, as I could peep her eyes movin under her lidz yo. Her mind was bustin tha same stupid-ass thang mine was, forcin our fondest memories all at once, fo' dis would be tha last time we eva saw one another.

Finally, Twilightz horn touched Dashiez forehead. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! There was a funky-ass bright light, n' when I could peep again n' again n' again they was all gone fo' realz. All tha ponies had disrocked up. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Through mah tears, I sighed up in relief. It felt wrong yo, but it also felt right. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was now tha normal Rainbow Dash dat belonged up in Ponyville. I stood up in tha livin room fo' nuff muthafuckin mo' minutes, just starin blankly all up in tha empty floor dat Dashie had been standin at just moments before. Then, I looked around tha room n' took notice at mah surroundings; I noticed thangs was different. Pictures dat once held imagez of me n' Dashie no longer hung from tha walls.

Many of tha random underground shit of hers was scattered around tha livin room was gone as well. I was trippin, so I ran up ta her bedroom ta look. When I opened tha door, what tha fuck I saw instead of her Nascar n' air sheezy postas mixed wit her bed n' other furnishings... was a simple crib fo' realz. A skanky desk wit a cold-ass lil computer on it n' a skanky lookin potted plant.

It took me some time ta digest what tha fuck I was fuckin wit, before I realized what tha fuck must have happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! It made sense yo, but it still stung me up in mah chest. To make shizzle not a god damn thang happened between ghettos, Celestia must have removed any existence of Dashie eva bein here. Bein wit mah dirty ass. Fifteen years, all down tha drain as her existence was wiped from tha hood. Put yo muthafuckin choppers up if ya feel this muthafucka! I felt as though all dem muthafuckin years was fo' naught, wasted as I wouldn't be able ta remember her muthafuckin ass.

And yet... mah memories still lingered of her muthafuckin ass. I could remember every last muthafuckin thang as if it was still as vivid as when they happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then tha thought clicked: her dope ass did somethang wit her magic when dat dunkadelic hoe touched mah crazy ass wit her horn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Did... did she protect mah memories so dat I would remember her, biatch? Had her dope ass done tha same stupid-ass fo' Dashie, biatch? I strutted back downstairs, n' tha fuck into tha livin room while I thought. On tha fruity-ass malt liquor table, sat a funky-ass book. I recognized it; it was mah photo mixtape. I sat down on mah couch, opened it up ta tha straight-up original gangsta page. There, was mah mutha n' daddy wit me shortly afta I was born.

I continued ta flip all up in them, lookin at mah own past. There was a gap afta mah muthafathas took a dirt nap yo, but ta keep mah motherz trip goin I had picked it back up. Makin false picturez of aiiight times n' enjoyin mah thuglife ta stick tha fuck into her book of memories. Then, I opened up ta a piece of paper. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I picked it up, n' immediately recognized tha hand writing. Or mo' erect, grill writing. I speculated dis was what tha fuck dat freaky freaky biatch had freestyled down before she left.

Dad,

For fifteen muthafuckin years you took care of mah dirty ass. For fifteen muthafuckin years you loved me, played wit me, n' made shizzle I enjoyed mah thuglife up in a ghetto not meant ta doggy den mah dirty ass. I aint a mare of nuff lyrics yo, but even though I holla'd at you dis up in person, I felt you needed a gangbangin' freestyled version of it so yo big-ass booty is ghon know it was all real.

I gots a straight-up boner fo' you daddy. Yo ass muthafuckin helped shape me tha fuck into tha mare I be now, nahmeean, biatch? I aint shizzle what tha fuck is goin ta happen, if I will remember any of dis or not yo, but I want you ta know dat you did a thugged-out darn phat thang of raisin me, even if I was a funky-ass bit stubborn at times n' short wit you durin others.

With Celestiaz permission, I hope ta allow you ta keep our photos; our memories, wit you so dat yo big-ass booty is ghon never forget fo' realz. Again, I gots a straight-up boner fo' you, n' give props ta yo thugged-out ass.

Yo Crazy-Ass lil daughter always,

Yo Crazy-Ass lil Dashie forever,

Rainbow Dash.

I set tha note back tha fuck into tha page, flattenin it wit mah hand as I felt tha dried tear marks litterin tha paper. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I read tha note over n' over n' over again, until I had it memorized. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then, I turn tha page, n' was greeted wit Dashiez filly smile.

So now I sit here, lookin all up in mah photo mixtape of our time together yo. Her first bath, her first lyrics, her first drawing, even her first preened feather, all up in dis book of memories. Everythang else up in tha doggy den is gone yo, but what tha fuck I had put tha fuck into dis book still remains. I don't dare eva chizzle dat either yo, but I will continue ta add ta dat shit. To sheezy dat dem muthafuckin years wit her muthafuckin helped not only shape her muthafuckin ass yo, but muthafuckin helped shape me as well.

I be a freshly smoked up playa from what tha fuck I was fifteen muthafuckin years ago. Chizzled, given another chizzle by a sheer miracle of fortunate events dat transpired from somewhere I can't even speculate. If I had never gone back n' checked dat box... if I had done somethang different than I had... could have chizzled every last muthafuckin thang between us. I guess I be dirty dat it all hit dat shizzle out. I can gladly say I have achieved mah parentz only wish; fo' me ta be aiiight. Though I be saddened, I be still aiiight fo' tha time I had wit her muthafuckin ass.

I now sit ridin' solo up in dis empty house, starin at mah motherz rainbow picture wit a smile plastered on mah face; every last muthafuckin time I peep it, I be thinkin of Dashie. I should be bustin up, I should feel wack n' want not a god damn thang but mah daughter back fo' realz. And yet, I feel relieved ta know dat every last muthafuckin thang be aiiiight. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn't run away, or leave on bad terms; her ass is gone, home, ta where da hoe belongs, n' is safe.

I look back down ta mah photo mixtape, turnin ta tha page afta our most recent photo. Da pages is blank. I still gots a shitload of thuglife ahead of me, n' I plan ta make tha dopest of dat shit.

For mah dirty ass.

For mah lil Dashie.

Da End.