Ghetto, ghetto, ghetto grill.
Now he'll have to listen to the radio instead of "Now That's What I Call Music! Volume 78."
Somewhere out there is a very sad swivel chair.
The only cure is to back her ghetto booty up, with a heavy dose of pop n' locking.
Is it considered ridin' dirty if you've got Cheetos dust all over your fingers?
Ghetto barbeque grill!!