Candac Owens for President.

Yakuda said:
You mean like when you dick faces ran the kamal against trump 2.0 and tried to convince us how much better she would be as president but in the primaries even you retarded monkeys didnt vote for her. You idiots have to believe you're invisible
Click to expand...

Hmmm. Good point.
 
QP! said:
i mentioned many months back that @Jerry Mathers clearly has a incel crush on Candice and would break his celibacy for her. No joke there. He is so into all her views and CT's and posts and they are a lot of what he posts.
Click to expand...
Zionist failure is apparent all around.

these inbred freaks have hijacked the country and are turning it against the citizenry.

you should stop being a globalist traitor failure.
 
Jerry Mathers said:
Zionist failure is apparent all around.

these inbred freaks have hijacked the country and are turning it against the citizenry.

you should stop being a globalist traitor failure.
Click to expand...
plus-you-love-her-elsie-fisher.gif


but she will never notice an incel like you.

You will ALWAYS be invisible to her.

87e1bc24-0b72-4f35-a81f-6d739fbe0813_text.gif
 
Diogenes said:
White guy, isn't he, Jerry?
Click to expand...
write a rap song expressing brogadoccio fitting a white male of the landed gentry class in the u.k., focussing on themes of dominance and possible organized malfeasance.


“Brogadoccio”

(Intro)
Yeah—
From the manor to the market, hear the old bell toll,
Brogadoccio in the house with a ledger for a soul.

(Verse 1)
Born where the hedgerows bend and the iron gates gleam,
Silver in the cutlery, power in the family dream,
White shirt, black tie, country mud on the boot,
Talks soft at the luncheon while the servants stay mute.

He’s the lord of the land, got the keys and the deeds,
Every field got a fence, every fence hides a need,
With a handshake firm enough to make the contracts comply,
And a smile so polished you forget to ask why.

(Pre-Chorus)
He says, “Order, tradition, keep the rabble in line,”
While the numbers disappear between the columns and the wine.
No blood on the crest, no fingerprints shown—
Just a quiet little empire built on favors unknown.

(Chorus)
Brogadoccio—king of the county line,
Crown made of paperwork, throne made of time.
Dominance dressed in a three-piece glow,
Everybody bows when the black cars roll.
Brogadoccio—raise the glass, lock the door,
There’s a deal in the cellar and a file on the floor.
He owns the view, owns the vote, owns the show—
But the walls talk back to Brogadoccio.

(Verse 2)
He’s got cousins in the council, old friends in the bank,
A fixer on the phone and a favor to thank,
A planning application moves quick through the stack,
While the village gets a “no” and the mansion gets a track.

He calls it stewardship, calls it keeping things sound,
But the workers get thinner while the profits compound,
Every scandal gets softened by a headline and tea,
Every witness finds a seat on a distant committee.

The butler knows the timing, the solicitor knows names,
The accountant knows numbers that don’t fit the frames,
And the chauffeur hears whispers at the edge of the night—
“Nothing here is illegal if the paperwork’s right.”

(Chorus)
Brogadoccio—king of the county line,
Crown made of paperwork, throne made of time.
Dominance dressed in a three-piece glow,
Everybody bows when the black cars roll.
Brogadoccio—raise the glass, lock the door,
There’s a deal in the cellar and a file on the floor.
He owns the view, owns the vote, owns the show—
But the walls talk back to Brogadoccio.

(Bridge)
Then the rain came hard on the family crest,
And a name in a notebook wouldn’t stay suppressed.
One locked-room meeting, one envelope passed,
One old retainer saying, “The kingdom won’t last.”

The gates can keep out strangers, but they can’t stop sound,
And the truth travels faster when it’s buried underground.
From the tenant’s front room to the palace press row,
Everybody learns what Brogadoccio knows.

(Final Chorus)
Brogadoccio—your dominion’s on loan,
No man owns the soil, no man owns the throne.
The ledgers are open, let the cold winds blow,
Now the whole wide country knows Brogadoccio.

Brogadoccio—hear the old order crack,
All the gold in the world can’t buy silence back.
You can rule by fear, but the people still grow—
And the walls talk back to Brogadoccio.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top