og ron c - fuck action 38

"i gotta say wassup to all the ladies all in texas, louisiana, down in shreveport, mayne, doin it big..... wassup to all the ladies all over the world, can't forget you ladies overseas, mayne, holding it down for the og ron c....."

jerking off with a warm laptop on my chest and fat warm blanket over my legs or with a girl under the same fat warm blanket in skyblue plywood basement apartment bedroom. after, if you let it just seep in, just lying there, warm and alone or warm and with her, you can get this feeling floating into your throat, sinuses, bottom half of brain, top of spine that's like thirst/right before you cry/guilt/being hugged by your mom/overwhelming sadness. i make it go away by playing my favorite songs on headphones connected to laptop or making her giggle by saying some dumb shit and asking if i can kiss her. but that's what these fuck action cds always sound like to me.
screwed r&b can hit you like it's the saddest, loneliest music in the whole world. listen to mary j blige slowed to deep masculine voice crying over double hitting beats and sobbing background singers with og ron c playing dj tricks to make it sound like just so washed out, drained out. or the profyle track on the very end that sounds like fucking ghosts singing, with crackly grainy beat with slow claps and it's almost unbearable.
(he's the only houston dj that fucks with records this much, making voices tinny and staticky or even more stretched out, and like scratching the drums against the grain of the song kinda to make everything separate element of the song sound opposed to every other part. he has a weird scratching style, too, where it'll sound just like some kid playing with slowly bringing a spinning record to a stop with a sticky finger down the centre and then letting it go for a second and grabbing it again, but he can do really tricky stuff too. he's not bad at all.)
but other times it's like the chasing away part, the giggly kissing, all hopeful and syrupy sentimental. listen to the amazing old scarface verse about his neighborhood over lloyd/ashanti southside and then just playing with lloyd's beautiful robot voice sipping the warm sunshine on forearms beat. or the prince song, i think it's a new one, call my name-- i imagine og ron c testing the song for the right speed and getting it to this perfect pitch and tears suddenly steadily falling over his turntables, slowly spinning off.

"make sure you got the seal, baby, cause if you didn't you got fucked, i don't care where you got it from, you got fucked. get the real deal at www dot og ron c dot net or hit me on the hotline at 1 866 488 4710"