Clearly identifying himself on par with such wonders as Napoleon (the last of the good French), Adolph Hitler (the master-race), and Malcolm X (black supremacy), he sheds the shadows about him, revealing the glorious image of a posh pimp. A wide-brimmed fedora craned upon his temple glistens within the night---the stately image of a neon-pink feather stuffed neatly into its side. For now you've come across the Pimp Masta, supreme ruler of that which is bitchy and great sage of times less stingy. His wisdom unparalleled upon things of pimpin' lore, he is the last of the great pimps---wanton in mood and often derogatory toward others. Heed his words, they are final in all.
