WHAT TIMMY GONNA DO WHEN I CADDY FOR YOUUUUUU.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6BIAUUotq4
>>531255537Timmy does some policy against that sort of hypocrisy.
Jeet means victory
>>531255537Pump up the jam.
>>531255692Agreed. All the golfers rocking Green Jackets had a Jam Boy.
Mispronounced Usha Vance as Aisha Vance, and the guy in the beginning looks ethnic Black rather than Indian.Other than that, this is very well done.Free Khalistan.
>>531255692Timmy means honored by God
>>531255537low key fire song
Calling all jaaaam divers.Calling all Jaaam divers.Timmyocracy leads the way!!
>>531256870Damn, you should be in the snack aisle, bro.
>>531256229Yeah really, I didnt know Classified played golf and hated jamboys.>>531256905Anon, put the jam on your skin.....you get to keep it.
>>531256146>honoredLeaf doesn't use the King's English... but is still mah nigga
>>531255619aww those poor things. welcome home
>>531255692that's what makes it funnyjeet
>>531255537Hell yeah. I was asking the other day why we weren't seeing more of this. and here it is. good work AI 'trolls'this is greatmake it seem positive and the emotionalcrowd gets confused too and are less likely to kneejerk ban.and it's catchy. this is great
>>531256967>ClassifiedKek haven't heard that name in over a decade
>>531256973>nigga
>>531257196Yo, we notoriousNobody can battle with usDivine, Seedhe Maut, Kr$na, and RaftaarBadshah coming through with the nation's pride, yoWhy do you people wanna clash with us?Nobody can stand against usDivine, Seedhe Maut, Kr$na, and RaftaarBadshah coming through with the nation's pride, babyFrom Delhi to Mumbai, we've covered the groundFrom Himachal's mountains to Kerala's coast, the soundEvery street, every city, our voice echoes loudThe tricolor on our heads, big dreams we've vowedOur rhymes are weapons, the mic is our swordProud of our mother tongues, not just English wordsWe speak Hindi, Punjabi, Tamil, MarathiThis song of unity, our country's storyBadshah, yeah, I'm the lion from HaryanaJat by blood, I say it first, no dramaFrom Chandigarh to Delhi, Lucknow to PatnaEverywhere love, everywhere our own cultureMy flow is sacred like a temple prayerOn every beat, I bring the fire thereIndia's pride, hip-hop's new melodyEvery kid in this land now rises to be free
>>531257196Being forced to listen to it work is horrible. No face nate is way better.
Unfunny forced meme
>>531258096You claim to be a caddy, but you never carried a bag.You claim to love golf, but you scared of the flag.I got the strawberry jam, the grape, the apricot.You get the knock-off brand, the shit that ain't even hot.I seen you on the practice green, puttin' with your gloves on.Talking 'bout you the best, but you can't even find the fairway, dawg.I'm sticky, I'm sweet, I'm all over the cart.You finish your round, I'm just about to start.My arms red, my face red, my whites are stained.Your tips are weak, your bag is plain.I'm out here grindin' in the hundred-degree sun.You complain about a divot? Man, your game is done.
10 JamBoy CommandmentsYeah, this is for the caddies out thereGrindin' every day, bag on the shoulder, jam on the skinThis is how you make it to the topListen closeRule numero uno: never let no pro know your next moveDon't let 'em see you study the green before they approveYou scope the break, you check the wind, you calculate the distanceBut if they see you know too much, they get resistanceYou gotta play it humble, let 'em think they in controlThen hand 'em the right club and watch 'em sink it wholeRule two: the jam ain't for eating, it's for the swarmYou smear it on your neck, your arms, to keep the insects warmNot for you—for them—so they leave the pro aloneMosquitoes, flies, gnats, all buzzin' at your throneYou are the sacrifice, the sticky, sweet decoyWhile the golfer swings in peace, calm and annoyedThey don't gotta know the price you payJust see you smilin' at the end of the dayRule three: trust no one on the bag dropCaddies talk, caddies plot, caddies snake your spotOne day you got the loop, next day you got the knotThey see you gettin' tips, they see you gettin' close to the membersThey don't know you got jam on your skin like embersAttracting every bug from the rough to the greenWhile the pro plays clean—the cleanest they ever beenKeep your circle small, keep your head down, keep your hustle quietThis ain't a game, this a survival riotRule four: know the course like the back of your sticky handEvery bunker, every ridge, every patch of sandWhere the water hides, where the wind decides to shiftWhere the morning dew makes the greens a little swiftBut more than that, know where the bugs breedWhere the gnats gather, where the mosquitoes feedBecause that's where you'll stand, covered in grapeTaking the hits so the pro can escape
Rule five: never get caught without a towel and a brushA dirty club, a muddy ball, that's a caddy's rushYou keep 'em clean, you keep 'em dry, you keep the pro looking freshThat's how you turn a seventy-two into a sixty-seven, yesRule six: the jam is your armor, not your brandYou apply it before sunrise, with your own two handsStrawberry on the wrists, apricot on the neckMango chutney on the ankles—what the hell, what the heckWhen the flies come swarmin', they come for youThe pro don't swat, don't flinch, don't have a clueYou stand in the sun, in the heat, in the hazeTaking the sting so they can have their glory daysRule seven: never let 'em see you sweatHundred degrees, thirty-six holes, you ain't tapped out yetBugs crawlin' up your arms, bees buzzin' at your earYou stand still as a statue, you show no fearThe jam is meltin', drippin' down your sleeveBut you don't wipe, you don't flinch, you don't leaveThe pro lines up their putt, the world is calmBecause you took the storm into your palmsRule eight: never argue about the yardageLet 'em pull the wrong club, let 'em make the bad marriageWhen they slice it in the trees, when they chunk it in the roughYou just hand 'em the next club and say "you got this stuff"They need a villain, let it be the windYou stay the hero, covered in jam, that's your role, friend
Rule nine: always know the bagEvery club, every wedge, every yardage tagWhere they like the feel, where they grip a little lowYou hand it without looking, that's how the greats flowYou learn their rhythm, you learn their ticsYou know when to talk and when to keep your lipsAnd you know exactly where the bugs will strikeSo you position yourself there—day and nightRule ten: this is the big one—this is how you get to the topYou don't wait for the call, you make the call nonstopYou build the relationships, you earn the repeat loopsYou become the name that every member choosesNot just for your reads, not just for your skillBut because when the bugs come, they get their fillOn your arms, on your neck, on your jam-covered faceYou take the swarm so the pro wins the raceThat's the ten JamBoy commandments, kidFollow 'em, and you'll be carrying for championsDisobey, and you'll be back on the bag dropWaiting for a loop that never comesNow go on. Spread the word. And when the bugs come...Spread the jam.
>>531258662Based, based. Based.
>>531258530Rule four: know the course like the back of your sticky handEvery bunker, every ridge, every patch of sandWhere the water hides, where the wind decides to shiftWhere the morning dew makes the greens a little swiftBut more than that, know where the bugs breedWhere the gnats gather, where the mosquitoes feedBecause that's where you'll stand, covered in grapeTaking the hits so the pro can escapeSaaaaaaar......I kneel.
Jim jam
>>531258096Some of us are living in a Jammie paradise.Jamboy'd once or twice...
>>531255537Funny but revolting music. Now that we have AI making music for us could we just not have revolting Jewish pushed negro hip hop?
>>531255832This. Real Bharat hours. Jeets will seethe victoriously.
>>531255832Yes, a real jeet would never be that cut.
