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I caught a early screenin on Les Misérablez last night, n’ while I be forbidden from publicly expressin mah opinions bout tha film until December 11, it did remind mah crazy asz of some shiznit I’ve known fo’ a long-ass time. In dis crazy, mixed-up ghetto of ours, there is only two kindz of gangstas: em whoz ass wanna be Cosette, n’ em whoz ass wanna be Éponine fo’ realz. And it should be obvious which crew I be on.

Look, Cosette is tha worrrrrst. I mean, shez pretty n’ all, n’ her ass sings like a dope bird and WHATEVER, n’ Marius falls up in ludd wit her instantly, blah blah blah. But shez also cooped up wit her weirdo surrogate father, n’ her mutha was a consumptizzle French prostitute. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch don’t even git a cold lil’ woo wop all ta her muthafuckin ass, muthafucka! Well, I guess her ass do technically yo, but “Castle on a Cloud” sucks n’ it don’t straight-up count cuz itz Young Cosette whoz ass sings it, n’ no muthafucka wantz ta be tha ho whoz stuck sweepin up afta tha ballaz of a French inn n’ stumblin all up in tha dark woodz ta fetch gin n juice from tha well. Yeah, shez tha adorable grill of tha musical yo, but I be willin ta bet a shitload of scrilla dat her ass also has a adorable tapeworm, too fo’ realz. Adult Cosette, whoz ass just kinda standz around bustin rufflez n’ doilies, only getz ta rap wit other gangstas, n’ one of em is up in a trio wit Marius n’ Éponine, whoz ass is our true hero.