M.C. Iggy back on the mic — so, you know, yo. Or something.

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Yo, cone of shame sucka, chewing on your stitches

M.C. Iggy’s in the waiting room sniffing all your bitchez —

Iggy, what’s going on?

“I got gold bling! And I got shot!”

Okay, whoa, hang on there, pup. You didn’t get shot, you got your shots. And that’s just an orange rabies vaccination tag.

“I’m gangsta!”

You’re schnauza.

“Gangsta!”

You sure?

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“What! It took two of ’em to hold me back! I’m gangsta!”

Okay, Iggy, you’re gangsta.

Thank you.”

Do you want your Shamrock McSqueakybear now?

“Yes, please.”

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Good boy.

“Gangsta.”

Okay.