Own a musket fo’ home defense, since thatz what tha fuck tha foundin fathers intended. Y’all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Four ruffians break tha fuck into mah house. “What tha devil?” As I grab mah powdered wig n’ Kentucky rifle. Blow a golf bizzle sized hole all up in tha straight-up original gangsta dude, da ruffneck dead on tha spot. Draw mah pistol on tha second dude, miss his ass entirely cuz itz smoothbore n’ nails tha neighbors dog. I gotta resort ta tha cannon mounted all up in tha top of tha stairs loaded wit grape shot, “Tally ho lads” tha grape blasted shredz two pimps up in tha blast, tha sound n’ extra shrapnel set off hoopty alarms. Boy it’s gettin hot, yes indeed it is. Fix bayonet n’ charge tha last terrified rapscallion. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch yo. Dude Bleedz up waitin on tha five-o ta arrive since triangular bayonet woundz is impossible ta stitch up. Just as tha foundin fathers intended.