Me: Excuse me, Professor Kennedy, do you have a moment?
Prof: Woah, woah, DJ K-Slane! Don't hit me with that slave name, I go by "Tha Docta!" What you know about that?
Me: Sorry, Professor… Doctor… whatever… have you had a chance to go over my term paper?
Prof: If you havin grade problems I feel bad for you son, I got 99 problems and your test ain't one, hit me!
Me: Well, I did email you about a meeting last week…
Prof: Dag, I ain't got time fo dat ish! I gots to be in da club gettin' tipsy!
Me: Aren't you like, 58?
Prof: Yo, why you haterating my dizzle?
Me: Ok, even Snoop Dogg says dizzle is done with. Can you just tell me what I got on my paper?
Prof: Well, you know you my boy K-Slane, and I gave you mad props on that last joint you wrote, but I had to throw some D's on this bitch! BALLIN!
Me: What?
Prof: Well, on your last paper you made it rain on dem prose, but dis paper had more holes than Biggie, rest in peace, one love.
Me: Well, I still think I deserved better than a D. There couldn't have been that many errors in it.
Prof: Yo DJ KaySlay, it's a hard knock life. Just brush your shoulders off and make your next paper more G than G-Unit.
Me: Seriously, if you make one more Jay-Z reference…
Prof: Forget the paper, dog. How dem bitches treatin ya? You got dat shorty on lock?
Me: I do all right, I guess. Girls around here are pretty cool.
Prof: Cool enough for "Tha Docta?" Cuz when I be at da club, I'm all like "I got money in da bank, shorty watcha drank," and dem stanky bitches are all like "hell no jigga, step off!"
Me: Ok for one thing, that's gross. For another thing, aren't you married?
Prof: I tell it like it is, K-Slane! I got 99 problems and my pending divorce is one, hit me!
I smack my professor fully in the face and leave.