I went down yesterdizzle ta tha Piraeus wit Glaucon tha lil hustla of Ariston, dat I might offer up mah lyrics ta tha goddess (Bendis, tha Thracian Artemis.); n' also cuz I wanted ta peep up in what tha fuck manner they would big-up tha festival, which was a freshly smoked up thang. I was delighted wit tha procession of tha inhabitants; but dat of tha Thracians was equally, if not more, dope. When our crazy-ass asses had finished our lyrics n' viewed tha spectacle, our crazy-ass asses turned up in tha direction of tha hood; n' at dat instant Polemarchus tha lil hustla of Cephalus chizzled ta catch sight of our asses from a thugged-out distizzle as our crazy-ass asses was startin on our way home, n' busted some lyrics ta his servant ta run n' bid our asses wait fo' his muthafuckin ass. Da servant took hold of mah crazy ass by tha cloak behind, n' holla'd: Polemarchus desires you ta wait.
I turned round, n' axed his ass where his crazy-ass masta was.
There he is, holla'd tha youth, comin afta y