 Riding Dirty by Dramillionaire. And they see me driving my automobile. They are prejudiced. The police routinely conduct patrols in the hope of apprehending me whilst driving illegally. A constabulary are of the opinion that they can observe me breaking the law. However, my automobile is fitted with darkened glass, obscuring their view of the interior. If you were to watch my vehicle pass you, you may well notice that it is well polished. It even contains extensive in-car entertainment, including television. Often I will be escorting a new female companion who may well ask me to slow down. Beside the peripheral used to interact with the video game system is a magazine filled with ammunition and the firearm for which said ammunition is intended. If necessary, I could administer a wound on a highwayman which, although not fatal, may well leave the recipient in a permanent vegetative state. My lady, please be aware that by all accounts I should be interred in bedlam asylum, much like my associate Crazy Bone. My primary desire is to copulate, but I have no desire to sire offspring. I often use diamonds as a way of luring unsuspecting females into my vehicle at which time they are smitten by me. Regarding the police, however, it seems reasonable to assume that you are aware of their animosity toward me. Regardless, I have set my automobile's audio device output to its maximum capacity. I am fully authorized to debate on behalf of certain African-American men who aim to appropriate my vehicle. Unbeknownst to them, however, this vehicle contains a number of weapons which should easily fend off any potential attackers and leave them at the mercy of the police who will undoubtedly incarcerate them within a maximum security penitentiary. I have a firm grasp of some quirkus roba. The symphony playing through my speakers is deafening and my vehicle is slowly meandering through the city streets, not unlike a freshly rolled loaf prior to baking. Hark! A constable is approaching my vehicle. As I open the window, a wisp of hashish smoke curls upwards. I must allow the air to clear. The second movement of the currently playing symphony begins and the policeman, who is of African-American descent, inquires, My fellow, could you let me know who is conducting the orchestra? This is a brief summary of the techniques I employ in order to foil the police when I drive my automobile through an urban area. It's true that I am a wanted man in every metropolis saved for Houston and yet I have thus far eluded failure. They see me driving my automobile. They are prejudiced. The police routinely conduct patrols in the hope of apprehending me whilst driving illegally. I have been imbibing copious quantities of alcohol and also inhaling a substantial amount of hashish smoke. As a result, I am now reasonably intoxicated. It would be advantageous to return to my domicile prior to the police observing my less-than-skillful manipulation of the vehicle. I'm sure you are aware of my African-American heritage. Needless to say, I have been sipping various spirits, notably cognac and gin, and I do believe I shall partake of a little more whilst accelerating to hit-a-four unthought-of speeds. Now, the automobile's linear velocity has reached 100 miles per hour and yet I still feel it appropriate to partake of some hashish. The current reefer has now expired. Ill-advised as it may seem, I shall attempt to create a new one whilst manoeuvring the vehicle. Men of less-hardy character would bulk at such a practice and I and my companions are living life to the fullest, with nary a care in the world. In my right hand I have a revolver. A large bottle of malt liquor sits poised, minting my legs. I can feel its chill on my testes. I continue to create the reefer, much loved traditionally by those of African-American descent. My friends and family have lived in the city for numerous generations. I believe that if I am able to beat a hasty retreat to my condominium, then I will, for the nonce, be safe. Not only do the constabulary wish to take me in for questioning, but there may well be unforeseen trouble from hoodlums with handguns. As such, stealth is imperative. I have little desire to be apprehended by a policeman. As such, I have decided to proceed clandestinely. However, I most certainly do not pay any attention to the law as it is written. I repeatedly evade the police. My opinion is one of barely veiled contempt for all those officers who serve on the police force. However, it is nigh uncertain that I will violently oppose being taken into custody. Be well advised that it would never transpire that I would accept the blame for someone else's transgressions. Within my automobile I often keep a firearm and a reefer. If an African-American fellow wishes for me to carry out an assassination, then myself, that's Jamelina, and my companion, Crazy Bone, will act with immediacy, regardless of the victim's awareness and fire bullets with reckless abandon. And they see me driving my automobile. They are prejudiced. The police routinely conduct patrols in the hope of apprehending me whilst driving illegally. Having failed to successfully evade the police, I reduce my speed. As the police are no doubt anticipating apprehending me with a plethora of alcoholic beverages and illicit narcotics, I am understandably concerned, although I'm not sure if this is due to my African-American heritage. The police patrol vehicle is in pursuit. The officers aboard are trying to ascertain the ownership of my automobile based on the license plates attached at the rear. A glance in my rear view mirror reveals that the aforementioned officers are somewhat amused. Presumably they are of the opinion that they will be successful in their attempt to catch me in violation of city law. To them I say, you may need to make additional attempts. Perhaps they believe that my African-American heritage is the cause of my poor behaviour. No doubt they will deny this. Regardless, it is plain to see that my vehicle was licensed here, in Houston, in the state of Texas. But alas, I concede a minor defeat and pull up at the roadside. I immediately reach for the glove compartment where I've concealed a substantial amount of currency. It is highly likely that the less honourable members of the police force may attempt to extort money from me in exchange for freedom. Nevertheless, I decide to converse with the fellows, and my rapier wit cuts deep. But I pay no regard to whether or not the police appreciate my jibes. When it becomes clear that there is insubstantial evidence for the officers to take me into custody, it is highly likely that they will leave, feeling incredibly disgruntled. At this point, I shall be filled with mirth and will no doubt openly laugh at the hapless conceibles before resuming my late-night drive through the city streets. I usually take this opportunity to listen to some bombastic opera. It is impossible for you to take me in for questioning. It is also impossible for you to petition your solicitors to issue a writ of complaint. Allow me to present a message to law enforcement officers everywhere. My companions and I strongly dislike you and your friends. It is highly unlikely that any court will successfully bring charges against me. I am surprised that this was not common knowledge throughout the police force. Thankfully, my firearm was concealed underneath my posterior. My seated position is slightly crooked as a result. Nevertheless, I proceed to browse through my list of telephone contacts in the hope of finding a wanton female who will allow me to copulate with her fortuitously. So you see, it was a foregone conclusion that I would evade police capture. If you would be so kind as to look outside your window, you will notice that I have arrived outside your abode. I believe that it is time to get started. They see me driving my automobile. They are prejudiced. The police routinely conduct patrols in the hope of apprehending me whilst driving illegally. In the hope of apprehending me whilst driving illegally.