Sammy the Catto

I never thought bout postin here yo, but I gots a rap ta share wit you muthafuckas; just promise me dat you’re not goin ta laugh. There’s not a shitload I know bout dis thang, n’ I can’t process anything, so if I have shitty Gangsta or anythang else, I apologize. I’m bobbin up in dis biatch, so I can hardly write yo, but here’s a sentence ta describe it ta you, n’ it’s not straight-up good.

So, you know dem shows our slick asses like ta peep on televizzle, biatch? like SpunkBizzle SweatPants, Da Amazin Ghetto of Gumball, n’ others, biatch? I’m brangin these shows up cuz these is examplez of shows dat you n’ I used ta watch yo. Has you done never found anythang weird or creepy bout these shows, biatch? Admit it, you certainly did, n’ I did too yo, but it wasn’t as shitty as others think; dat shiznit was just fo’ tha comedy.

Aside from dem shows, let’s git ta tha rap I’m bout ta tell y’all fo’ realz. Again, I’m sorry if I don’t describe mah thoughts n’ vibe bout this; dis show just fills me wit dread, anyway yo. Here goes nothing.

In late November, I inherited a home n’ was up in tha process of clearin up what tha fuck was left of tha estate of mah pimped out-aunt, whoz ass had took a dirt nap, when I stumbled upon a straight-up odd STD of a obscure show. Da box was badly damaged yo, but tha disc was up in a seemingly slick condition. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. Da mystery had piqued mah interest, so I loaded it up in mah STD playa ta check it out. There was no problems wit startin tha DVD, except fo’ a funky-ass black screen dat lasted fo’ 30 seconds.

Afta bout 30 seconds, tha text “Sammy tha Cat” slowly rolled across tha screen, followed by tha year 2019 up in a smalla font. This was dumbfoundin cuz mah pimped out-aunt took a dirt nap up in 2020, n’ we was only recently granted access ta her estate. I’m holla’d at nuff of these DVDs was peeped by a cold-ass lil lil pimp dat biiiiatch would babysit when her big-ass booty still lived at home. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was at a nursin home from 2017 until her passing; I was interrupted, n’ tha show continues.

Afta tha title card, tha screen quickly fades tha fuck into white; tha white fades tha fuck into a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass blasted of a lightly furnished, mostly empty room wit a thugged-out door ta tha left. Rather quickly, however, a big-ass pussaaaaay entas tha frame. Da pussaaaaay is prominently white but has black patches n’ spots, n’ you can put dat on yo’ toast. Da screen was straight-up blurry, so itz mad hard ta make up yo, but it appears ta be a thug up in a cold-ass lil pussaaaaay costume fo’ realz. As it turns around, I notice tha big-ass cheeks, googly eyes, n’ stitches on tha front portion of his body; tha odd proportionz of tha costume lead mah crazy ass ta believe it ta be homemade fo’ realz. Afta turnin around, tha pussaaaaay proceedz ta stare up in tha direction of tha camera fo’ what tha fuck felt like minutes until, again, tha screen goes white, which lasts fo’ a phat minute.

Afta all dem minutez of white screen, tha costumed playa is peeped smokin from a funky-ass bowl, a bowl of what tha fuck appears ta be raw meat. Da source is unknown; I’ma leave it up ta you ta determine what tha fuck tha meat is fo’ realz. Afta emptyin tha bowl, tha playa leaves tha frame, only ta return bout 30 secondz lata holdin tha hand of a maxed biatch. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. Da biatch was silent n’ frozen, n’ I’d almost assume dat biiiiatch was unconscious if not fo’ her footsteps alongside his muthafuckin ass. Da playa leadz her ta tha bedside n’ sits her down. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch yo. Dude sits down next ta her, until he eventually starts ta shake, n’ tha shakes start ta git worse n’ mo’ aggressive, n’ tha playa is now slightly turned away from tha biatch n’ is, once again, chillin straight-up still. This must have lasted fo’ multiple minutes until he reached back n’ grabbed tha biatch by tha neck. Da biatch lets up a funky-ass blood-curdlin scream dat is so bangin dat tha camera audio strugglez ta pick it up, n’ tha playa covers his wild lil’ fuckin ears n’ starts yelling. Da playa standz up, also pullin her up involuntarily. Da biatch is dragged by her neck n’ then dropped.

By dis point, mah ass is racing, n’ I be trippin n’ up in shock at what tha fuck I be afraid I’ve found. Y’all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This felt too real n’ unhinged ta be some indie film yo, but filled wit dread, I continued ta peep it unfold. Y’all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Little do I know, however, dat I’ma soon wish I’d turned it off.

Afta droppin tha biatch, tha playa frantically runs all up in a thugged-out door ta tha left side of tha main room, like a lil’ small-ass closet, cuz his bangin right leg is still stickin out. When inside, da perved-out muthafucka shufflez round fo’ bout 10-20 secondz until da perved-out muthafucka suddenly turns round ta reveal a long-barreled shotgun pointed directly toward tha biatch. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. Da biatch, still blindfolded, is chillin on tha floor, unsettlingly silent. There be a overwhelmin sense of hopelessnizz dat flows all up in mah body as I peep her exist, straight-up oblivious ta what’s pointed at her n’ shit. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch isn’t allowed ta peep it comin fo’ realz. Afta standin fo’ a moment, tha playa lowers tha glock n’ casually strutts over ta tha camera n’ turns it off. Da screen goes dark, n’ dat is tha last of tha contentz of tha DVD. Da biatch was presumably capped up in dis scene cuz I heard a gunshot durin it, n’ what tha fuck followed was tha blood-curdlin scream of tha biatch; tha show then ended.

Afta tha show ended, afta all dem minutez of boredom n’ some hesitation, I decided ta report tha disc ta tha local five-o department. They took it fo’ evidence yo, but I’d be lyin if I holla’d I’d heard anythang back. I became concerned bout what tha fuck had happened ta tha biatch, n’ I would prefer tha closure of knowin rather than tha uneasy ignorizzle dat I’ve been livin up in fo’ tha past few weeks. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I been terrified of suttin’ I hoped wasn’t legit but was afraid might be. Dat shiznit was smokin me kickin it, so yesterdizzle I decided ta reach back tha fuck into tha box where I found tha original gangsta disc cuz I knew I hadn’t looked straight-up thoroughly tha last time fo’ realz. Afta anxiously siftin fo’ bout 30 seconds, a cold-ass lil convulsive shock is served up all up in mah entire body when I peep dat shit. To mah dismay, I spotted yet another unlabeled, damaged disc container chillin along tha border of tha box yo, but I couldn’t brang mah dirty ass ta bust a nut on it, much less open it, n’ eva since then, I’ve been feelin uneasy. I’ve thought bout disposin of it so I don’t gotta deal wit it yo, but I don’t wanna git rid of suttin’ dat may potentially be tha solution ta a cold-ass lil case. But fuck dat shiznit yo, tha word on tha street is dat there was mo’ than I thought.

Without hesitation, I grabbed tha STD n’ banged tha damaged disc. I was hopin fo’ mo’ evidence, n’ these was tha events dat occurred afta tha straight-up original gangsta disc: Da disc was fucked up but started wit tha pussaaaaay again, n’ da thug was poppin’ off ta a 5-year-old boy, n’ he axed tha pimp ta follow his ass ta tha same blender dat was up in tha previous disc, n’ he picked up tha pimp n’ turned his ass tha fuck into a smoothie, n’ tha pussaaaaay came back ta his closet n’ put tha long-barreled shotgun tha fuck into tha closet, lettin up a big-ass bust a funky-ass big-ass fart as though he regretted what tha fuck he’d done, n’ tha entire thang was cut, n’ tha STD ends.

I started dissin dis show n’ tha fact dat dis playa didn’t even put it up in tha nearby shop fo’ DVDs except fo’ mah pimped out-aunt’s doggy den dat I inherited, n’ I can KNOW why. Well shiiiit, it seems straight-up unrealistic fo’ some anonymous thug ta put they snuff film up in a hood store fo’ others ta watch. I turned off tha DVD, took it outta mah playa, n’ reported it ta tha five-o department. I shared some evidence wit them, n’ I have nuff thangs afta pluggin tha evidence.

This is up ta you ta answer: whoz ass was tha playa up in tha pussaaaaay costume, n’ is tha playa related ta mah pimped out aunt, n’ why was he cappin’ people, biatch? I’ma allow you ta figure it out; as fo’ tha second DVD, I ended up reportin it ta tha five-o as well. Upon again n’ again n’ again hittin’ up tha PD, I found up da thug was already servin time on lockdown on unrelated charges. They is now investigatin tha content of tha second STD of tha show.

I feared fo’ mah game; I had never peeped anythang unexplainable n’ weird until now, n’ ta dis day, a gangbangin’ feelin of dread be always comin over me, n’ I feel like I did suttin’ wrong. When I tell playas bout dis moment, they always give me strange looks, n’ they keep assumin I had a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass shitty-ass nightmare when I didn’t; at least from tha lata events, dat shiznit was a nightmare.

I be sorry; dis should’ve been prevented yo, but cuz of mah curiosity, I wanted ta peep tha show cuz I wanted ta know what tha fuck it was. I be now feelin guilty fo’ what tha fuck just happened, even though I didn’t do anythang wrong.

I was gettin tired, so I went ta chill yo, but tha show stayed on mah mind while I tried ta chill, n’ I eventually went ta chill.

As I was tryin ta chill like a pimp ta forget bout what tha fuck happened todizzle, I started trippin, n’ dis trip seemed aiiight at first. I’ma share mah dream, if you can call it dis shit. To me, I call it a nightmare.

I be chillin up in mah chair, mah livin room is decently furnished, n’ mah TV is hustlin up in complete static. When tha static ended afta 12 minutes, tha oldschool Warner Bros. logo flashed on tha screen, revealin tha text “Sammy tha Cat.” I knew how tha fuck dis was goin ta go yo, but I don’t recall seein Warner Bros. all up in tha beginning. Was dis made by Warner Bros., biatch? Perhaps a lost show, biatch? I don’t give a fuck; I continued watching.

Da episode started wit tha camera pressed against Sammyz grill wit dat giant fake smile, n’ what tha fuck I could make up was dat there was finger holez where tha eyes are. Da thang I never heard from Sammy was his voice.

“Wuz crackalackin’ there biaaatch! “I wanna talk.”

His voice was cheerful, deep, n’ loud, n’ it sounded like da thug was old; da perved-out muthafucka was rappin up ta me; I tried movin yo, but I be havin dem trips where I can’t move at all; da perved-out muthafucka holla’d some sentences dat made mah ass break.

“Yo crazy-ass pimped out-aunt deserved ta take a thugged-out dirt nap.”

When dat sentence came outta his crazy-ass grill, it broke mah ass, n’ I held back tha urge ta cry like a muthafucka.

“I loved her, n’ she left mah dirty ass. When she left me, I was broke. Thatz why I tried ta make mah own show ta git mah scrilla back.”

Da voice was gettin closer from tha screen, n’ it almost sounded like da thug was whisperin up in mah ear. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. I fuckin started ta git chills; I could hold back tears as dopest I could. Y’all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Sammy saw me holdin back tears, then tha camera zoomed up in on what tha fuck rocked up ta be a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass shotgun up in his hand.

I eventually stopped tearin up, lookin blankly all up in tha shotgun, mah eyes now bobbin. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Sammy pulled tha trigger, tha cap hittin tha camera, possibly tha cameraman too as I heard a funky-ass bloodcurdlin scream n’ saw dropz of blood, wit tha camera glitching.

Da televizzle turned off, n’ I heard a aggressive knock all up in tha door beside mah dirty ass. I had nowhere ta bounce tha fuck out. I accepted mah fate; Sammy barged tha fuck into tha room, holdin a sledgehammer; tha pussaaaaay ran towardz me n’ hit me wit tha sledgehammer; I went ta chill n’ be now unconscious.

I finally raised up from tha nightmare, n’ I be finally aiiight dat I be kickin it n’ well, wit no bruises or anything. I gots tha scam ta booty-call Warner Bros. Entertainment cuz I saw tha logo on mah TV durin tha nightmare, so itz appropriate ta do so.

I dialed tha company n’ axed dem if they eva had a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass show called Sammy tha Cat or anythang related ta dat shit. I was kicked it wit by a unexpected response: they holla’d fo’sho, much ta mah shock. Da muthafucka whoz ass played Sammy was playaz wit tha playas behind Warner Bros., commonly known ta some playas as tha “warners.” Da show was up in tha works yo, but tha workers noticed dat tha playa was trippin like a muthafucka bout something, so they ended thang wit Sammy tha Cat entirely.

Sammy’s hustla was sufferin from schizophrenia, anxiety, n’ depression. I aint talkin’ bout chicken n’ gravy biatch. If I be bein honest, I kind of feel shitty fo’ him, despite tha fact dat da thug was a serial killa yo, but tha fact dat da thug was sufferin from three thangs make me pleased dat he on lockdown now, nahmeean, biatch? Da company even holla’d at mah crazy ass dat a shitload of tha crew thugz rumored dat da thug was responsible fo’ tha four Warners’ dirtnaps.

Now keep up in mind dat if you call tha company n’ ask dem bout Sammy tha Cat, they will try ta hide tha real deal by saying, “Fuck dat shit, they aint gots a gangbangin’ finger-lickin’ dirty-ass show called that.” I have tha real deal now, nahmeean?

We’ve been on tha call long, so our crazy asses hung up, n’ fo’ tha company’s sake, don’t call tha company n’ ask dem bout tha show, fo’ goodnizz sake, n’ if you’re wonderin how tha fuck I be bustin up in dis biatch, I be feelin down as a person, I have depression, n’ I have anxiety bout thangs now; I aint gots schizophrenia, however.

Anyway, fuck you fo’ readin bout mah experience, whoever is readin all dis bullshit. I wanted ta git mah rap up there somewhere, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin’ thru fo’sho. I just want you ta be careful n’ be thinkin before you peep tha thang. If you wanna peep these thangs, do it at yo’ own risk.

Not written by me, it's AI generated.