*OFFICIAL GIZOOGLE RPG TRANSLATION THREAD*

"Intelligence & Vi0lence"

Part One

Dude was his crazy-ass masterz straight-up servant. Da privileges dat schmoooove muthafucka had was coveted by tha other ones, as they scorn tha playa welcomin Jerome tha fuck into his house. Da cozen was dat he portrayed a thug grateful ta serve his ass n' his crew up in hopez of pimpin a sorry relationshizzle wit tha playa ta whom his thugged-out lil' punk-ass belonged, as well as his crew. That was, his hoe, son, n' two daughtas yo. Dude wasn't allowed straight-up close ta dem hoes though, cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce fo' realz. And straight-up, despite her hospitizzleity, tha Mistress was afraid of his muthafuckin ass. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. So was her crazy oldschool daughter n' shit. They would become cold when da thug was up in tha room wit dem yo, but unlike Rose, tha Mistress was not rude.

Dude ate inside, at his own table away from tha main one yo. Dude would deplore on his thugged-out lil' position, n' wish fo' a escape as da perved-out muthafucka smiled all up in tha crew, as if aiiight ta be smokin feet n' lips fo' realz. At least, unlike what tha fuck was given ta tha field workers, dat shiznit was cooked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude knew what tha fuck ta say n' when ta say it; ta upset tha Master, although da thug was his wild lil' straight-up among servants would be ta undergo mo' minutez of brutal verbal abuse (to which da thug would sometimes smile when da thug was insulted casually, fo' da ruffneck didn't understand) n' physical torture; his back was still unhealed from tha result of his fuckin last mistake yo. Dude struggled ta stay up in tha house, although he felt sorry fo' tha others. They slept up in barns, up in shacklez dat Jon, tha lil' boy would release dem from every last muthafuckin mornin n' lock dem up in every last muthafuckin evening. They was as defeated as a livin thug could be. Some of dem didn't even notice dat they was slaves. They was raised on tha plantation, n' understood dat they dark completion condemned dem ta tha fields, keepin dem all up in tha Masterz will. They understood, n' accepted dis shit. Well shiiiit, it became they game. But unlike most of them, dat shiznit was they will.

They hit dat shiznit from dusk till dawn. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They became huge; a whole foot talla than tha Master, n' built like oxes fo' realz. And still they would flinch all up in tha crack of his whip, n' comply wit his fuckin lil' demands. Jerome wasn't as ignorant as they were though, cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce yo. Dude saw a opportunitizzle yo. Dude had thoughts... he recognized tha conclusion of tha cogitations he feared, as if tha Masta knew what tha fuck da thug was thankin yo. Dude was hustled by em yo. Dude became spastic when tha Masta approached him, jumpin all up in tha call of his name.

"Has you done done tha cloths, Jerome!"
Dude jumped, lookin at every last muthafuckin thang but his crazy-ass masta n' shit. "Yes!"
"Look at me, boy!"
Dude struggled ta peep his wild lil' grill as he urged ta turn away.
"Yo ass aint lyin ta me, is yo slick ass?" Dude secured his whip.
"No... No Master..." he looked tha fuck into his suspicious eyes.
"I believe you, Jerome. You've been actin strange lately, is you aiiiight?"
"...Fuck dat shit, Masta n' shit. I feel ill."
"Is you, now, biatch? Well, go collect our cloths from tha line n' git all up in yo' room. I be bout ta bust Lil' Willy up ta hit you wit medicine."
"I've collected dem all, Masta n' shit. I placed dem up in yo' den."
"Good, good. I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Well, git all up in yo' room n' Lil' Willy will peep yo thugged-out ass."

Lil' Willy was tha younger of tha two daughters. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch adored Jerome, n' he knew dis shit. Well shiiiit, it warmed his ass ta know dat biiiiatch would come n' tend ta his needs. When they was together, he felt as though da thug was a part of tha crew. Da Masta was sick yo, but his bangin tone made his ass seem unpredictable fo' realz. And dat also made his ass nervous.. yo. Dude feared dat one day, durin one of tha Masterz fits, da thug would express his sorrow ta tha masta up in tha same way dat he expressed his thugged-out lil' juice towardz tha field workers fo' realz. And then, he'd be gone.

Dude went ta his bangin room; tha attic. Well shiiiit, it wasn't as sick as tha other rooms, like dem of tha Masta n' Lilly yo, but dat shiznit was just as big. Except, dat didn't matter, cuz dat schmoooove muthafucka had no possessions yo. Dude didn't give a fuck what tha fuck tha inside of Rosez room looked like yo. Dude had only knocked on her door, announcin dat Lil' Willy had cooked breakfast or dinner n' shit. Biatch didn't allow his ass ta even peep inside; her dope ass did not trust him, n' felt dat da thug was a threat. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch exclaimed dis ta her daddy yo, but his thugged-out answer always ended up in statin dat da thug will stay inside, cuz da thug works hard n' well, n' has git his cold-ass trust

Dude laid on his bed; a gangbangin' frame, wit ropes strung up in a plaid pattern ta lay on, wit a oldschool blanket imbrued by tha last "good" servant, whoz ass up in chill was jabbed all up in it by Rose, whoz ass accused his ass of sexually advancin on her dat night yo. Her daddy didn't give a fuck until da thug was dead, n' da ruffneck didn't believe a word of her reason. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Biatch was treated like a slave afta dat incident, n' forced ta do three minutez of doggy den n' yard labor. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Jerome peeped her from tha field, n' noticed dat dat schmoooove muthafucka hadn't peeped Roy again; dat is his brother, whoz ass had served tha crew until his crazy-ass cappin' n' shiznit yo. Dude despised Rose as much as her dope ass did his ass yo, but da thug would not show it, although tha Masta understood dat schmoooove muthafucka had tha right to, if given permission. That would often occur when dat biiiiatch was bein as wretched ta his ass as da thug was ta Jerome yo. Her dope grill was scared, recallin her ignorant n' selfish retaliations, disregardin her muthafathas rules.

In wait, dat schmoooove muthafucka heard tha Mistress scream at Lil' Willy from beneath his bangin room. Biatch always complained, n' fussed at her, specifically. Jerome knew dat biiiiatch was only jealous dat Lil' Willy was prettier than dat biiiiatch was. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was a whore. Durin tha Masterz leaves dat biiiiatch would chill wit tha slaves. Da big, ox-like ones yo. Her grill was scared, too, on nights when tha masta demanded love, n' he inspected her n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch would put her game on tha line should her dope ass deceive his ass again.

Lil' Willy came up wit a funky-ass bowl of chicken soup. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch smiled at him, sayin dat freaky freaky biatch hopes he feels well yo. Dude was attracted ta her n' shit. But, it wasn't a surprise. Even her own daddy was. Passin by her room, Jerome would peep his ass bust a nut on her as dat dunkadelic hoe holla'd at his ass no, tryin ta escape. Thatz where her scars came from. Only, Jerome felt her scars... tha was deeper than any other's.
"Thank yo thugged-out ass..." Dude holla'd nervously.
"Yo ass is welcome, Jerome. I would do anythang fo' yo thugged-out ass. Yo ass is so kind ta dis crew."
"Not like I gots a cold-ass lil chizzle." Dude holla'd as he put tha spoon up in his crazy-ass grill.
Lil' Willy looked at his ass wit a sudden hint of aggression, n' he noticed.
"I be sorry as a muthafucka Lilly. I shouldn't answer yo thugged-out ass."
"Yo ass can answer me," Lil' Willy holla'd, "just don't be rude ta me!"
Jerome looked all up in tha floor, n' took another bite.
"I be sorry as a muthafucka bout dat bullshit..." Dude holla'd, ta which her big-ass booty smiled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!
"... Yo ass know, I gots a straight-up boner fo' you, Jerome. I gots a straight-up boner fo' you like a funky-ass brother." Biatch smiled, pettin his wild lil' grill as tha pimpin' muthafucka took another sloppy spoonfull of his soup, n' dat biiiiatch strutted away n' climbed down tha latta ta tha hallway. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch mystified his muthafuckin ass. When she'd leave, Jerome would just be thinkin bout where she'd go; what tha fuck she'd do. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch probably went ta tha garden; dat shiznit was a funky-ass dope place. Dat shiznit was tha Mistresss hobby ta keep up wit tha flowers, her straight-up kind of which she even named her first daughta afta n' shit. Lillies was her second favorite. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch would probably read there, tha pimpin' muthafucka thought. Jerome wanted ta read. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude knew he never would, though cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce yo. Dude holla'd at dat ta tha Master, n' he laughed at him, pattin his head n' bustin his ass ta work yo. Dude used ta work his hardest hopin dat his crazy-ass muthafuckin intense labor would inspire tha Masta ta give his ass school books yo. Dude couldn't have read them, though, so he gave up yo. Dude still works hard, maintainin his name n' his thugged-out lil' place up in tha crib yo, but there just aint no damn motivation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. His gamestyle was habitual. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack yo. His trip was ta write a funky-ass book fo' Lilly. That dat biiiiatch would brang it ta tha garden, n' read it, while he peeped from tha attic window dat tha masta was kind enough ta install yo. Dude thought dat if his schmoooove ass could write her a funky-ass book, dat biiiiatch would fall up in ludd wit his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. And dat since da thug hit dat shiznit so hard, tha Masta would accept it fo' realz. And even if da ruffneck didn't they could run away. No one can stop her; she a white girl! And da hoe dope naaahhmean, biatch? Biatch could protect his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude tried not ta trip though cause I gots dem finger-lickin' chickens wit tha siz-auce yo. Dude was intelligent, despite his crazy-ass muthafuckin illiteracy. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Still darknizz brewed inside his muthafuckin ass. Involuntarily, his schmoooove ass conjured scams ta save his dirty ass, n' Lilly. Dat shiznit was all his schmoooove ass could be thinkin of yo. Dude scanned tha yard from tha doggy den windows n' when dat schmoooove muthafucka hung tha cloths ta dry yo. Dude stared all up in tha woodz all up in tha attic window, tryin ta learn every last muthafuckin thang bout tha plantation.

Dude wouldn't try ta esape yo. Dude knew it wouldn't be dat easy as fuck , even if he knew every last muthafuckin detail bout where dat shiznit was da thug was tryin ta escape from, n' tha places outside of dat shit. Outside of dat plantation was three more; tha Mastas dopest playaz yo. Dude kicked it wit dem all, n' dat schmoooove muthafucka hates dem all. They treated they Nikes betta than they treated Jerome fo' realz. And it aint dat da thug was afraid ta run tha fuck into them, da thug was afraid of they dawgs. They was trained ta hunt runaways. They called dem "spook eaters," cuz if they caught a runaway, da thug would be carried back up in they stomached. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da Masterz straight-up dawg was a Catahoula hound called Shredder, n' Jerome saw why da thug was called dis shit. Roy wasn't buried when they found his ass dead as fuckin fried chicken.. yo. Dude was "shredded." They brought Jerome outside ta stand before Roy wit tha rest of tha servants so dat they could peep tha Masterz example of a cold-ass lil conclusion ta they attempted escape, if they eva tried. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! They all have dawgs fo' realz. A dozen of them, n' they was all vicious spook eaters. Jerome went ta chill afta returnin ta his bed from washin n' puttin away tha dishes he used.

Dude awoke at five up in tha morning. That day, n' tha next day, da thug was watchful bout tha house. Over tha next months, he hustled where tha Masta kept tha thangs fo' realz. And sneakin back ta tha livin room afta havin responded ta orders, when mah playas had briefly strutted away, da perved-out muthafucka snatched tha keyrin ta tha Masterz room.

As he placed steppingstones up in tha garden, da thug was approached by tha Master, whoz ass was not horny.
"Nigger, did you loot mah keys?"
Jerome looked up.
"Fuck dat shit, Masta n' shit. I place steppin stones."
Dude raised his voice even louder, crackin his whip ta tha side.
"Don't lie ta me pimp dawwwwg! Stealing, thatz a sin... I be bout ta bust you straight ta Hell, nizzle!"
"Yo ass peeped mah crazy ass leave tha doggy den n' carry tha stones..."
Da Masta had Jerome take his cloths off, n' his schmoooove ass checked everywhere yo, but tha key wasn't found. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude threw his cloths ta his chest, n' holla'd at his ass ta git dressed n' resume his "chore", which is tha word he used ta give his ass a incentive, assumin it make his ass feel less like a slave yo. Dude finished layin tha stones, n' strutted back ta tha house.
Turnin tha corner, he looked all up in tha fieldz where tha other servants worked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! That be another word tha Masta used ta make dem feel less confined ta tha walled, inescapable identitizzle dat be a slave, hustlin from sunrise ta sunset, livin ta work yo ass ta dirtnap yo. Dude wanted ta rap wit dem yo, but his thugged-out lil' punk-ass barely even saw em. Da garden is behind tha house, away from tha fields, n' thatz all his schmoooove ass can peep from his bangin room yo. Dude moonwalked back ta tha porch ta hear tha Mistress beatboxin all up in tha Masta ta retrieve tha key from "that nizzle," ta which tha da perved-out muthafucka struck her fo' insultin his ass up in such a harsh manner n' shiznit yo. Dude was so dope ta do so...
"I holla'd at you, I checked his ass n' it aint there biaaatch! Yo ass must have lost it, whore!" Dude struck her wit his wild lil' forearm, n' she fell tha fuck ta tha floor.
"Dude was up in tha garden tha whole time. I aint goin ta continue ta repeat mah dirty ass!
Jerome smiled yo, but you couldn't peep it if you was lookin at his muthafuckin ass yo. Dude overflowed wit pride; it spilled ta tha floor fo' realz. A metaphor fo' dat could be tha Mistresss blood dat streamed from tha cuts up in her grill by tha whip wrapped round tha Masterz arm yo. Dude waited on tha porch by tha steps, awaitin tha Masterz next order n' shiznit yo. Dude was holla'd at ta brang seedz ta tha workers. What luck!

Part Two

While tha crew was tucked tha fuck into they beds, asleep, there was anticipation up in tha barn, so check it before ya wreck it. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da footsteps down tha hall could not be heard; da thug was extra careful naaahhmean, biatch? His hand secured tha key ta tha door.

Da shacklez was removed, n' dropped ta tha hay. They crept all up in tha night... Each window was watched. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Every door was guarded yo, but they remained up in tha shadows. Rose awoke ta a thump outside of her door, n' a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shadow moved all up in tha moonlight dat shone below dat shit. Frightened, dat freaky freaky biatch had ta peep what tha fuck it was. Openin tha door, her big-ass booty stepped down tha hall n' was rappin ta tha creature dat stalked her, demandin it git back ta tha barn, so check it before ya wreck it. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Then she recalled they stay shackled... Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch retracted up in terror ta her room, where she locked tha door n' laid up in bed, wishin ta chill. Paranoid, she looked ta tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Dat shiznit was still, n' on tha fuckin' down-low. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch lit a cold-ass lil candle, paranoid yo, but it revealed nothing. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch closed her eyes as a bangin darknizz departed from tha shadows, n' when she opened her eyes again, dat freaky freaky biatch had been slaughtered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch couldn't tell dat there have already been ten woundz up in her stomach, n' ten mo' by tha second. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Only dat dat biiiiatch wouldn't be awake long enough ta care. In silence, her door was closed, n' wrapped up in her blanket dat biiiiatch was dragged down tha pitch-dark hall.

Da dawgs was barking, now, nahmeean, biatch? Da Masta was alert, knowin suttin' was wrong yo. Dude left his bangin room n' sped down tha hall, bein peeped from every last muthafuckin corner n' shiznit yo. Dude went ta tha yard where they stayed, n' they was up in tha midst of a funky-ass brutal battle yo. Dude figured dat shiznit was a animal, so he let dem be yo. Dude moonwalked back ta his bedroom, n' his hoe was gone yo. His adrenaline rushed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude ran ta tha kitchen, n' dat biiiiatch was chillin upon a stool, wit a mug up in her hand, massagin her head n' dat freaky freaky biatch hunched over tha bar. Shiiit, dis aint no joke.

"Honey, what tha fuck is you bustin outta bed?"
Dude saw a funky-ass black hand on her arm, n' a playa behind her n' shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch wasn't there.
"Father!" Lil' Willy screamed from her room.
Fear struck his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. As he ran ta her room, dat thugged-out biiiatch crawled tha fuck into tha doorway, n' dat schmoooove muthafucka had run tha fuck into a giant, dark arm yo. Dude was locked, n' unable ta move.

"Lilly, dis is fo' us."
"Yo ass was purchased; slaves aint gots tha right ta do this!"
"No... you n' mah dirty ass."
Bitch tried ta scream yo, but his schmoooove ass covered her grill, strugglin ta keep her still.
"I gots a straight-up boner fo' you, Lilly."
Bitch broke free. "N-ao!"

Da Masta was struck nuff muthafuckin times up in tha grill by his whip, wrapped round tha fist of a ox-man, n' carried ta tha road ta tha lumberyard as da thug was suffocated.

"I gots a straight-up boner fo' yo thugged-out ass..."
Lil' Willy could barely breath yo. Dude knew da thug would bust a cap up in her, so he let her go up in tha room.
"Us dudes done did it, Lilly. We gots Master... Now we can be free biaaatch! Letz go!"
"No! Where is mah father!"
"Lilly..."
"Shut up! Yo ass be a nizzle, you can't do this!"
Jerome strutted ta her n' shit.
"Help!"
"It aint nuthin but all gravy Lilly, just come wit mah dirty ass."
Dude grabbed her as her big-ass booty screamed, endurin her flailin body yo. Dude cupped her grill n' sticky-icky-icky her away.

Dude had nearly been strangled ta dirtnap; da thug was disoriented. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time yo. Dude awoke on a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirt road far from tha home yo. Dude strutted back ta tha house, straight-up subdued by fear n' paranoia as da thug was peeped from tha woodpile.

Lil' Willy was sticky-icky-icky ta tha wagon by tha stable fo' realz. As she laid unconscious, tha horses was attached. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka!

Da "Master" stumbled ta tha dawg yard, eager ta feel protected. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Upon openin tha gate, however, they was still feastin on what tha fuck animal they had been destroyin yo. Dude found it peculiar yo, but took a dirt nap inside afta notin dat dat shiznit was Rose whoz ass laid all up in tha jawz of his spook eaters. When tha pimpin' muthafucka turned, da thug was struck up in his head wit a tree limb, n' fell tha fuck unconscious.

Jerome brought Lil' Willy down tha road up in tha wagon, knowin da thug was goin ta make it yo. Dude was escaping; not a god damn thang could stop tha wagon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck would know it wasn't just tha Master, biatch? Dude looked at her muthafuckin ass.

"... We free, Lilly."

Deeper up in tha night, when tha moon shone brighter, Lil' Willy awoke seein Jerromez silhouette all up in tha front on tha wagon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sooner, her daddy awoke up in tha stable, every last muthafuckin limb up in cuffs yo. Dude was bound ta tha horses as they gots mo' n' mo' nervous.

Bitch didn't say shit, or even cook up a sound. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch jumped on Jerromez back, wrappin her arms round his neck, tryin ta brang his ass down. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude smashed her head wit a stone, until she busted out her grip.

Da horses wanted ta run.

Jerome held her tight yo. Her body was sore, n' her musclez ached. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! All dat thugged-out biiiatch can do was scream yo, but dat freaky freaky biatch had ta stop.

Dude looked up tha stable door ta peep tha pimps whoz ass brought his ass there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. They peeped it as tha horses struggled ta gallop, smashin tha Masterz skull, breakin every last muthafuckin bone; crushin dem tha fuck into his organs. For ten minutes, they peeped they Masterz demise, as his body was stomped tha fuck into a gangbangin' flesh pulp.

Dude held her tighter, securin her forehead up in his thugged-out lil' palm, n' squeezed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude grabbed her grill, n' not a funky-ass breath could escape. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch didn't scream yo, but dat dunkadelic hoe tried t fight yo. Dude whispered ta her muthafuckin ass...

"I gots a straight-up boner fo' you, Lilly."

Dude felt her skull cave under tha heat of his hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Biatch stopped bitin his thugged-out lil' palm. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch stopped strugglin as he looked tha fuck into her dead eyes, n' they rode away.

"We free."