dag yo!

All week, I’ve wanted ta h-u-double-rizzy n git a new pizzy up before some of you gangstas start ragg'n on me. But as mah classroom students can attest, I’m a gizzle n guys only have so many words per day. Once they’re used up… well, they’re used up. 
Sometizzle by tha end of tha day, I can’t find words ta finish sentences in class . Yippie yo, you can't see my flow. My grammar goes ta pot with the gangsta stuffs that keeps ya hangin. My well-hidden Australian accent becomes detectable ta tha discern'n ear of musizzy t-h-to-tha-eorizzy students. Alas, by late pm, I can open mah grill ta speak but be (only slightly) surprised by total silence. No vocal response ta cerebral messag'n fo gettin yo rap on. 
None of this, by any means, means I gots nuttin' ta say . Ill slap tha taste out yo mouf. It simply means that whizzat I gots ta say can’t find it’s way up the pipeline from tha streets of tha saltmine. Even nizzow, I’m chillin' tizzle mah daily word s-u-to-tha-double pizzy-lizzy is runn'n low, n I apologuise`bout any grammatizzles confusion, stylin' e-doublerizzy-ors, or expos'n of normally indetectable dialect .
Drop it like its hot, y'all.