Hustler Videos

Wiz Khalifa Feat Kev tha Hustler - Hello Kitty (On The Pill) / NEWAuthor: PeteRock Tags: Wiz Khalifa Kev tha Hustler Hello Kitty Pill Clip Rap HipHop Hip-Hop Hip Hop Music Frais Ghetto Rue Hood Exclu Premiere WorldPremiere Officiel Official SAL DAR Exclusif Nouveau South RNB CrunkNB NEW Posted: 11 November 2009 Rating: 5.0 Votes: 1

Either Jamal has mad game or his rep and street cred is getting him mad women. Check out some of the honeys that come up into the attic to visit. Is he gonna have so much that he has to turn some down or is he gonna ride the wave and get his freak on? To find out more go to http://www.upintheatticmovie.com Join our social network at http://www.upintheattic.ning.com Download on Filmbaby for only $3.99

Author: YoungClef Tags: Music MTV Hip Hop brand new müzik rap rock clef young myspace celebrity gangsta killa hustla hustler playa video youtube official vma ema world love song lyrics remix original Posted: 24 October 2009 Rating: 0.0 Votes: 0

Author: YoungClef Tags: Music MTV Hip Hop brand new müzik rap rock clef young myspace celebrity gangsta killa hustla hustler playa video youtube official vma ema world love song lyrics remix original Posted: 24 October 2009 Rating: 0.0 Votes: 0

Author: flaminstar Keywords: Hip Hop East Coast Jay Z Nas Rap Basic Hip Hop Standard Hip Hop Gangsta Rap Thug Hustler 50cent Added: October 7, 2009

http://le-too.blogspot.comDjordji: Bookboy

http://le-too.blogspot.com

http://le-too.blogspot.com Cinematheque is guerrilla education for a collective of at-risk adolescent HIV+/AIDS boys studying art in radical, self-directed ways. We've been prostitutes, junkies, thieves, and potential suicides. Most of us are from the street. Art is all we really have. Traditional education has failed us. We have rejected the educational status quo. We seek to interject our subversive ideas into the dialogue that defines what art is today. The term BOY refers to a psychological state of mind; not an age group. It has to do with vulnerability. As an educational entity, Cinematheque students are allowed access to fair use art materials and mixed media in the teaching of iconic manipulation in photographic, video and film production. Representations and facsimiles posted here are presented as teaching tools and instruments employed to instruct students in the techniques and application of mixed media art and collage. The Digital Millennium Copyright Act allows art-teaching entities the fair use of such materials in classroom and teaching-research applications. Orpheus pressing up against the windows of the catacombs. "On the surface Orpheus Descending was and still is the tale of a wild-spirited boy who wanders into a conventional community of the South and creates the commotion of a fox in a chicken coop. But beneath that now familiar surface it is a play about unanswered questions that haunt the hearts of people and the difference between continuing to ask them...and the acceptance of prescribed answers that are not answers at all." -- Tennessee Williams

http://le-too.blogspot.com

http://le-too.blogspot.com

http://le-too.blogspot.com

http://le-too.blogspot.com

http://le-too.blogspot.comIt's like I wear these goggles that keep the things out I do not care to see. I often do not care to see the pain you are often in. The pain you carry around. There are days I cannot bear it. I do not mean psychological pain. I mean physical pain. The kind of pain that makes you see so clearly you can see the snow whipping up across the lake. You have posed a good question. I can't sleep. Let me tend to this. "Why aren't we enough." It's germane. It's a good question. I'm glad you asked it. You are more than enough. My kids are more than enough. My wife is more than enough. My dog is more than enough. My work is more than enough. The traveling I do is more than enough. Yet there is not enough. You tell me. What stays as it always is. It is not enough. I want something that is mine. Something I did that is not these other things. Sometimes it has been writing. It used to be dancing and theatre. I dabble in paint and video and photography. I want something that takes me away. All my cages are now molded. They never kept us anyway. Speak boy. All of us are done for. We shuffle in our shoes place to place. I want the hollow echo of my life to resonate with the mornings when I fish you from your sleep and beds. I want to write our sorrows down in the perfect alignment where our stories are compressed into something so dangerous it might explode. I want to paint all night and in the morning go out for pancakes. Nothing is enough. What we want sewn in us is a deluge. I want it all, all, all. I know. I am lucky. To have you.

http://le-too.blogspot.comAs a classroom art assignment (one that has been hanging around our necks for the better part of half a year), the video below, Impersonate Yourself, was a real ball-breaker. My escape from Amsterdam to Paris for a few days was really no escape. The r alit is that the places Tim Barrus can escape to have become few and far between. I am usually surprised they let me back in France. The train trip back from Paris to Amsterdam takes about four hours. Europe passes by in a blur. All the little deaths have curled their fingers upward. Do the dying make a sound before they go or is this process soundless. Dying is like the train. Inside, everything is hushed. Outside, it's all around you and the one thing death does not do is shrink from speed. It knows where it's going. Stars explode. The train moves on quick as a metal flash. We stuff the bodies now with sawdust. I came to Paris to say goodbye. I am not attending funerals. Brief sorrows. I dream of rooms beyond great walls. I sit inside these luxurious prisons -- these rooms -- and plot the scaling of the walls. My dreams are not at all unlike my life. I am ready for anything that might happen except for the things that usually do. Eavan, Kilian, Qi (the vid's title comes from Qi), Jules, Aron, Henri, and I just finished the video below: Impersonate Yourself. "You know, Tim," Qi says. "What you should do is..." For a twelve-year-old, he's a little too bright. The light in his head never quite goes off. The vid is only about eighteen minutes long. But it's been six painful (tiring and when I am forced to talk about Wikipedia, I have seizures and become inarticulate) months in the making. I was in Tangier with Henri when it occurred to me that the person I want to impersonate this time around is me. Good idea, Tim. "No," it was my idea," Qi reminds me. I forget these things. I'm old and feeble. In Tangier you are required to be someone else anyway. Some of Impersonate Yourself was filmed in the States, some of it in the UK, some of it in Paris, and other parts of it in the Netherlands. There are a couple of parts filmed in Japan but I don't think they are recognizable as being Japanese. I do not accept the idea of place. Tangier. Taos. It's all the same vid to me. I am never anywhere long enough for the idea of place to take hold. Place is irrelevant. One of the things I hated the most about being a journalist was when publications would say: Tim Barrus lives in... Right. Wherever. But, Tim, where are you. Somewhere else. Paris was sad and lawyers. Eavan is inheriting a house in Capbreton. It's an old country house set back from the beach behind dunes and woods. Cinematheque inherited a trust fund. It is not my money. People who think I have money are misinformed. What I have are projects -- some of them are perfectly insane -- I would like us to film some performance art set on a floating iceberg. EXT: From above (from above means 1. I will have to lease a helicopter, and 2. this will not be a cheap shoot) we see naked people dancing on an iceberg that seems to be floating south. No one is at the helm of the iceberg. There is no Captain. There is no wheel. There are no sails. There is no engine. Yet, like this train I am on screaming toward Amsterdam, there is the unmistakable feeling of movement. There you have Cinematheque. They're always watching us from some omniscient place. Usually overhead. Making sure our nakedness and sinful choreography is duly noted. For our part, we're far too focused on the drugs we do (the HIV kind and sometimes the good kind) and the dance to have any awareness about where the ice berg is taking us. No one really knows. Least of all, me. My Captain's hat marks me for a fraud. My version of r alit will not be your version of r alit . I guarantee it. I smile a lot and tell everyone that everything is under control. This imbues me with the avarice of leadership. I know this: every single time I tell the guys in Cinematheque that I am sick and tired of being looked up to as some kind of LEADER, they look at me with that juvenile delinquent snarl they can assume, and then the iceberg floats directly into a North Atlantic storm. Every time. I am SICK AND TIRED of you guys trying to kill yourselves. I would say STOP IT but you won't. Been there. Done that. "Kilian wants to know what kind of compression you want for Impersonate Yourself," Eavan tells me. Eavan is on his Blackberry. I shrug. "Tell him to decide on his own." Eavan's eyes to the sky. I want my own iceberg. I don't care where it goes. I want dancing hula girls and a very big and very serious bar with very serious 24-7 bartenders and I want music and I want bales and bales and bales of marijuana and I want one of those big beach cabanas and a very comfy beach iceberg chair so I can sun myself (I swear when I retire I am going to stop writing books and work on my fucking tan) and there will be one word on this iceberg (it will be the only rule) that no will be allowed to say, write, text, type, or say in sign language at the cost of being thrown off the iceberg: PUBLISHING. I do not care if you are the bartender. You say PUBLISHING, throw the bitch into the water. I wonder how expensive icebergs are. "You don't have a watch," Eavan says. "Duuhhh. You've never noticed that, have you." "How can you live without a watch." "I don't own a tie either." "You can't tie a tie. I tie your ties." "Only once." "They wouldn't let you in the restaurant." "Publishing doesn't want to let me in much, either. Do you think if you tied my tie for me, Eavan, they would let us in." I am not respectable. This is not news. "You're the one who keeps writing books." "I thought you were finishing your novel." Eavan is seventeen. I always forget how old they are. Most of them are three. I never remember birthdays. "I put it away." "Why." "You." "Me. Why me." "Because you have no HOPE, Tim, for anything. You have convinced me. You can stop trying now. I hear you. There is no hope for anything or anyone." As a teacher, I really suck. "Well, I'm glad to hear you've finally gotten some sense into you. There is no fucking hope for anything and there it is." "You know, if you would go to some of these funerals of the people you loved, maybe the closure would help you not be so depressed." "Hand me one of those brownies in your backpack." "You're self-medicating again." "Hand me one of those brownies in your backpack." Eavan opens his backpack. I reach in a take out a very chewey, gooey, crunch-on-the-seeds brownie. We split it. "If people knew you did drugs with your students it would be a scandal." "I looked directly at Eavan's face. He was biting his lip trying not to laugh too hard. "Fuck the Moral Taliban. Fuck scandal. Just give me the drugs." We crunched our way through three or four of those brownies. Eat me. Why do you think I live in Amsterdam. INT: The camera pans around the train and stops to focus one one old fool and one young fool laughing so hard they're falling all over themselves. "He died in PINK pajamas," Eavan noted. "That and he's being buried in full leather." "I can't believe Christian gave me his house." "I can't believe he funded about twenty of my most outrageous projects." "What am I going to do with a house." "I wonder if we could grow dope there." "Probably." We both said it. I could grow marijuana on an iceberg. "We could turn around and go back to the funeral. There's still time," Eavan said. I don't own a watch. I have never told anyone this. I tell time by the sun. "We can't go back," I told him. "Do you know how many times I've had to get out of Dodge." "A few." "A few. And my rule is -- Truman Capote was wrong -- you can't go back to the places where you have lived. It's bad karma. All the villagers will be there waiting for you with pitchforks and torches. I can never go back. I can only go forward even if I cannot steer the iceberg. I only pretend that I can. But I am a fraud. I can't save or even protect any of you. Francois put a gun in his mouth and blew his head off. I can't make it better. Even if I want to. I can't." According to the sun, we were about an hour from Amsterdam. Eavan sort of keeled over to the side and put his head in my lap. There's a Greek myth where Sirens seduce the sailors off Odysseus' ship. Eavan would have stopped their singing and made them gasp. I try not to look at Eavan. I fail at a lot of things. I just kept softly stroking his long handsome hair. Eavan slept. R alit : they stuff the bodies now with sawdust. We were going home at very high speeds.

http://le-too.blogspot.com

http://le-too.blogspot.com

Hustler Watch: Drake eighty81 http://www.myspace.com/wunderboys

Download the song at http://www.redstateupdate.com . Now available at iTunes! Merry Christmas from Jackie, Dunlap, and a barroom full of drunken degenerates. Starring Lisa Ann of "Who's Nailin' Paylin", reprising her famous role! Music by William Sherry Jr. Directed by Brad Jones http://cinester.com Produced by Nick Plotquin http://allsets.com Starring Lisa Ann...Sarah Paylin Azure Parsons...Barmaid Sally Foster...Drunken Whore Rednecks: Bennie Arthur John Boyd Sam Cunningham Anthony Deptula John Harber Rodger Mason Taylor Mason Augie Plotquin Nick Plotquin and Diana Terranova as Herself Director of Photography...Sacramento Del Mylar-Hoffstra IV 1st AD...Mark Bransky Gaffer...Mike Jones Ryan Martin...Art Director Eric Westrup...Playback Chris Minkle...Key Set PA Ginger Snap...Catering Distributed by Tubemogul.

DADDYSHUG http://daddyshug1972.blogspot.com/ technique fake 2 daily : Fruity loops,Jim Jones,Snoop Dogg,Nas, T.I., The Game, Fat Joe, Lil Wayne, N.O.R.E., Jadakiss, Styles P., Fabolous, Juelz Santana, Rick Ross, Twista, Kurupt, Daz Dillinger, WC, E-40, Bun B, Chamillionaire, Slim Thug, Young Dro, The Clipse,and Ja Rule, boobs, prison break 2X20 2X21, dub tuning, hip hop , battle GUN, The Game , Bloods crips, shakira, beyoncé, rihanna, sean paul, busta rhymes, lil jon, ludacris, scrappy, wayne, flip, kim, romeo, bow wow, scarface, nas, jay-z, NWA, dr. dre, eazy-e, ice cube, kanye west, lupe fiasco, pharrell williams, ODB, mobb depp, MOP, mase, puff daddy, young jeezy, yun wun, dmx, ruff ryder, ice t, cam'ron, david banner, boosie, webbie, memphis bleeck,mack 10, pitbull, ying yang twins, method man, redman, wu tang clan, gostface killah, reakwon, chingy, the low, eve, public enemy, afu-ra, D12, proof, obie rice, rah digga, flipmode squad, spliff star, prodige, havoc, big boi, d-block, the dogg pound, dpgc, twista, elephant man, krs one, tony yayo, lloyd banks, freeway, cassidy, rass kass, xzibit, common, outkast, sqad up, mr. she , dj unk, quick, kay slay, drama, warrior, cut killer, whoo kid, suss one, L, slick rick, masta ace, spider-loc, bubba sparxxx, birdman, mannie fresh, B.G., T.I., UGK, juelz santana, mc lyte, juicy-j, three 6 mafia, dj paul, the game, keak da sneak, the pack, federation, dem hoodstarz, mistah f.a.b, mac dre, cool & dre, joe budden, sticky fingaz, LL cool j, bone crusher, trillville, crime mob, young buck, al kapone, slumvillage, too short, rohff, booba, tlf, 75, 59, 77, 78, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 13, 69, 31, 971, 972, 973Author: DaDDy_sHug_1972 Tags: willy northpole shut bitch DTP disturbing tha peace atlanta ludacris i20 rap hip hop hawks soulja crank screwed chopped player hustler booba lance une bouteille jack urban skyrock hot chicks Posted: 16 October 2008 Rating: 5.0 Votes: 2