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Let me get this straight. I AM DIVA!


Deee-Vahh! You go look in the dik-sho-narree  – das how you spell it right? – and you gonna see ma face and name next to it. Bebouncey Knows. You get that, Rhhiblana? Yo, you listening girl? Tryn’a steal ma groove and copy ma stylz. Eh-eh? Whadda? You know how hard I worked to get this far? You know The Physical Determination and Undeniable Self-belief it takes for a gurl to walk out da door looking lak she just jumped inta a pool full o’ glue and rolled around in taffetta? Yeah, TAH-FETT-TAH, cupcakes. Nice an’ crispy,  like a Chrismaz Craeckr.

You jus’ turn up and try an bust ma grooves, steal ma moves. So ya think ya can dance? Whaddeva! Ah seen you move, sweet pea. Lak an old broom stuck in mud. I gots news for ya. This is a BULLET-IN. You can’t dance!!! You can’t touch ma fiercness, OK? And back off em’ tights while yo at it. UNDAH-STOOD? The Tights are Mine. All mine. Go look in da deeek-sho-nearie and you gonna see mah face and name next to the word “tights” – Bebouncey Knows. I have exclusive Rights to Tights, OK? Don’ make me kiss ma teeth. You gonna make me whip off ma weave in a minute and get nastee witch ya. And girlfriend you don’t want dat to happen. Trus’ me. I am 10 Denier’s Child. This is ma birth right yo messin’ wit.

The tights are mine, all mine!! Mine, mine, minnnnnnnnnnnnnne!!!!!

All Dat Jazz

Rhhibanala: “Yeah, whatever, chill-ax, Bee. You so extra…”