Your video, Tara Strong on Vine: "My Puddin' with Mark Hamill", has made it into the Top 15 New Videos listing. Congratulations on your achievement. For your contribution you have been awarded 1 Power Point.

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Listen close, as life turns its pages
Makaveli here, kickin' rhymes for the ages
Seen things in stages, wise words spoken by sages
From SkyTel to BlackBerry pages
Your crew don't phase us
We'll make you bustas pay us
Run up in your spot like C.J. from San Andreas
I wrote this song a long time ago
A real long time ago
Feel me!
I wrote this song a long time ago
It was the dopest song I ever wrote... in '94

What can a nigga do
when half the people voted for George W.
It's a bitch, fuck George W.
-- can't be true --
I wanna choke him, because he's a snitch
I'm talking about George W. Smith
From city council, he ran in '93
Out in Oakland,
you probably didn't hear about him

I wrote this song a long time ago
A real long time ago
Way before Slim Shady was in demand
Way before we dropped baloney on Afghanistan
I wrote this song in '94

How am I doin' this?
Look around the club, see everyone in the place
Showing 'Pac love got a smile on my face
The girl in the miniskirt has bad taste
Because her shirt don't match
And there's a puddin' stain on the back
What the fuck is that? It might be doo-doo

And you in the back, you ain't shit
You bought a gin and tonic
but you didn't even tip
And if you hit this table one more time
then the record might skip Might skip...
I told you, stop hittin' the table

Tupac Shakur
I wrote this rhyme in 1994
I'm not alive!
Thug life!
Dave Chappelle, that ain't your wife
A married man, you've got two kids
Go home!

I wrote this song a long time ago
A real long time ago
Way before Beanie Sigel had to do a bid
Way before Dave Chappelle had two kids
(Don't give him no coochie)


DJ: 2Pac rest in peace!
2Pac: Ok, I will!



Slightly * nsfw lyrics, but what the hey.

I would love this man if for no other reason than he hates Wanda Sykes.

But that's only a small part of the splendiferous puddin' pop that is Bill Cosby.

*quality puddin' pops

Comment hidden because you are ignoring dag. (show it anyway)

ahhh. what a widdle puddin' head.

No seriously, this dog has pudding for brains.

Ron Paul is a fool if he thinks there's anything that can be done to appease muslim savages. Even if all the mohammedans vanished tomorrow, there's still the matter of 1.5 billion Red Chinese looking to take over the globe. It's a dangerous world, and the command chair is no place for clueless kenyawaiians with a grudge against America, a grudge almost as large as the one carried by puddin'heads here at bolsheviksift.

Rudeeeeee! Theoooooo! With the puddin, ya see?

That was the most heartless act that's been done to me for a while around here:

http://videosift.com/video/Puddin-Taylor-Swift-America-s-Prom-Queen

http://www.lyricsmania.com/bottom_of_the_world_lyrics_tom_waits.html

My daddy told me, lookin back,
The best friend you'll have is a railroad track
So when I was 13 said, I'm rollin' my own
And I'm leavin' Missouri and I'm never comin' home

And I'm lost
And I'm lost
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
I'm handcuffed to the bishop and the barbershop liar
I'm lost at the bottom of the world.

Satchel Puddin' and Lord God Mose
Sitting by the fire with a busted nose
That fresh egg yeller is too damn rare
But the white part is perfect for slickin' down your hair

And I'm lost
And I'm lost
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
I'm handcuffed to the bishop and the barbershop liar
I'm lost at the bottom of the world.

Blackjack Ruby and Nimrod Cain
The moon's the color of a coffee stain
jesse Frank and Birdy Joe Hoaks
But who is the king of all these folks?

And I'm lost
And I'm lost
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
I'm handcuffed to the bishop and the barbershop liar
I'm lost at the bottom of the world.

Well I dined last night with Scarface Ron
On Telapia fish cakes and fried black swan
Razorweed onion and peacock squirrel
And I dreamed all night about a beautiful girl

And I'm lost
And I'm lost
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
I'm handcuffed to the bishop and the barbershop liar
I'm lost at the bottom of the world.

Well God's green hair is where I slept last
He balanced a diamond on a blade of grass
Now I woke me up with a cardinal bird
And when I wanna talk
He hangs on every word

And I'm lost
And I'm lost
I'm lost at the bottom of the world
I'm handcuffed to the bishop and the barbershop liar
I'm lost at the bottom of the world

<Cosby>...with the puddin' pops.</Cosby>

It's like the New Coke! No, I mean... it's like Kodak film!

In reply to this comment by Peroxide:
POKEMAN

Ignorance? Me?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHpUMCrnUNE
http://youtube.com/watch?v=mjrtsIY4WqQ
http://www.videosift.com/video/Bill-Cosby-Loves-Jell-O-Puddin-Pops

They also share a LOT of the same mannerisms if you've ever watched every episode of the Cosby Show ever or watched his standup, like I have.

You're completely misrepresenting and misunderstanding my comment.

Cool.. never saw the vid. They put on a great show... pass that banana puddin'!

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o' a grace
As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o' need,
While thro' your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn,
they stretch an' strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,
Are bent lyke drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
"Bethankit!" 'hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi' perfect sconner,
Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him ower his trash,
As feckless as a wither'd rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit;
Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He'll mak it whissle;
An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,
Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o' fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,
Gie her a haggis!