Inspireddd:


That guy Nobodycan na Macro. See his handwriting now?

See his voice and intonation. Many people donot know that posts on social media leave auditable foot prints In terms of intonation, style, diction, voice and others which i may not want to divulge as a security person.

That idiot is Macro. Even if he is not Macro, he is still Macro. I know what i’m saying

Inspireddd:


That guy Nobodycan na Macro. See his handwriting now?

See his voice and intonation. Many people donot know that posts on social media leave auditable foot prints In terms of intonation, style, diction, voice and others which i may not want to divulge as a security person.

That idiot is Macro. Even if he is not Macro, he is still Macro. I know what i’m saying

jumper524:
men I feel so bad for them.
but they got served right.
but honestly I think this approach by SARS should be watched.
innocent people might get killed.

Nobodycan:
if u assume this then u re a Fool

GreenArrow1:


Asaba is not boiling anything. The non-cultists will go about their normal activities, have fun and enjoy themselves while those who are cultists run up and down in panic like rats whose tails have been set on fire.
A few people will die. They won't be mourned for long. You know why? They mostly only constituted nuisance to the society when they were alive.
"Pooh!" A gunshot will ringout. A body falls in the street. People run, albeit temporarily. After a few hours, the police shows up to evacuate the dead body now properly engaged in the process of rigor-mortis.
People return back to business, opening shops and lighting the fires back for their abacha stoves to roast corn.
In a far distance, a mother spanks her 5 year old son who has forgotten to return back to his doorstep after playing with other kids. "You want to be like all those bad boys abi?" She yells as she spanks him some more. "No be me you go kill. C'mon sit down there!" As she drags him to sit in one place.
Business is back to usual with the occasional gist about the person who got shot and how these boys no get sense.

In a bunker somewhere, are clustered visibly shaken young men, smoking hemp. "Aro Danger Master don go overboard o. May the gates of Valhalla be closed to us." They all make varying statements mostly vowing revenge, meanwhile deep down, most are scared shitless and are looking for a way not to be picked as members of the next hit-squad going for revenge in a never -ending war over a reason they can't really pin-point.
All these while, there's an argument between the police and the mortuary attendant over accommodating the dead body of the guy who just got shot in the head. The family hasn't shown up yet and sure as hell, non of his fellow cult members has turned up to even say they know him. They are all somewhere busy drinking squadron and chanting, "Aro sorry o. We no know."
While all these happen, the rest of society just goes on with their normal lives. Next Saturday, Cynthia will get married, Uche's birthday party will hold, and Late Chief Ambrose will be laid to rest - a proper burial for a man who had lived a productive life to a ripe old age, gaining the respect of society and training his five children through University.
The cult war is but a distant undertone. A battle between the lowest lives in the society. These deaths a case of evil canceling out evil for the betterment of society. A war started probably by a fight over a worn out prostìtute. A waste of time and souls.
Then peace talks will hold and all those lives lost, forgotten. Aro Danger Master only remembered by his Marine and no other. They didn't even take notice of the war in Asaba, all too busy fighting theirs in their various states to be concerned about one sailor who had gone to be with Odin.
Aro Danger Master, Norwish Michael Obunneme would have been married in the next 5 years and seen his first daughter crawl, walk, graduate and get married in this very Asaba if only he had resisted the urge to join a cult.
Alas! Here he lies on a pale bed at the entrance of a mortuary, unattended as the voices of the policemen and hospital attendants arguing in the distance begin to fade.

Say no to cultism.

Inspireddd:


That guy Nobodycan na Macro. See his handwriting now?

See his voice and intonation. Many people donot know that posts on social media leave auditable foot prints In terms of intonation, style, diction, voice and others which i may not want to divulge as a security person.

That idiot is Macro. Even if he is not Macro, he is still Macro. I know what i’m saying

Pierced:


So everyone body that wants to post something must explain OT's and slangs and ranks the way O.P did?

People av things to do with their time......I don't see any reason why any body should be subjected to explaining OT's and ranks before posting.

If people that wants to post keep getting shunned just because they used slangs and ranks without explaining......they this thread will die a natural death very soon.

It's not a must for u to know the slangs And ranks......unless there is something u specifically want to use it for.

And if u say it's a must for u understand the ranks and slangs.....look for a cult and join.

GreenArrow1:


Asaba is not boiling anything. The non-cultists will go about their normal activities, have fun and enjoy themselves while those who are cultists run up and down in panic like rats whose tails have been set on fire.
A few people will die. They won't be mourned for long. You know why? They mostly only constituted nuisance to the society when they were alive.
"Pooh!" A gunshot will ringout. A body falls in the street. People run, albeit temporarily. After a few hours, the police shows up to evacuate the dead body now properly engaged in the process of rigor-mortis.
People return back to business, opening shops and lighting the fires back for their abacha stoves to roast corn.
In a far distance, a mother spanks her 5 year old son who has forgotten to return back to his doorstep after playing with other kids. "You want to be like all those bad boys abi?" She yells as she spanks him some more. "No be me you go kill. C'mon sit down there!" As she drags him to sit in one place.
Business is back to usual with the occasional gist about the person who got shot and how these boys no get sense.

In a bunker somewhere, are clustered visibly shaken young men, smoking hemp. "Aro Danger Master don go overboard o. May the gates of Valhalla be closed to us." They all make varying statements mostly vowing revenge, meanwhile deep down, most are scared shitless and are looking for a way not to be picked as members of the next hit-squad going for revenge in a never -ending war over a reason they can't really pin-point.
All these while, there's an argument between the police and the mortuary attendant over accommodating the dead body of the guy who just got shot in the head. The family hasn't shown up yet and sure as hell, non of his fellow cult members has turned up to even say they know him. They are all somewhere busy drinking squadron and chanting, "Aro sorry o. We no know."
While all these happen, the rest of society just goes on with their normal lives. Next Saturday, Cynthia will get married, Uche's birthday party will hold, and Late Chief Ambrose will be laid to rest - a proper burial for a man who had lived a productive life to a ripe old age, gaining the respect of society and training his five children through University.
The cult war is but a distant undertone. A battle between the lowest lives in the society. These deaths a case of evil canceling out evil for the betterment of society. A war started probably by a fight over a worn out prostìtute. A waste of time and souls.
Then peace talks will hold and all those lives lost, forgotten. Aro Danger Master only remembered by his Marine and no other. They didn't even take notice of the war in Asaba, all too busy fighting theirs in their various states to be concerned about one sailor who had gone to be with Odin.
Aro Danger Master, Norwish Michael Obunneme would have been married in the next 5 years and seen his first daughter crawl, walk, graduate and get married in this very Asaba if only he had resisted the urge to join a cult.
Alas! Here he lies on a pale bed at the entrance of a mortuary, unattended as the voices of the policemen and hospital attendants arguing in the distance begin to fade.

Say no to cultism.

GreenArrow1:


Asaba is not boiling anything. The non-cultists will go about their normal activities, have fun and enjoy themselves while those who are cultists run up and down in panic like rats whose tails have been set on fire.
A few people will die. They won't be mourned for long. You know why? They mostly only constituted nuisance to the society when they were alive.
"Pooh!" A gunshot will ringout. A body falls in the street. People run, albeit temporarily. After a few hours, the police shows up to evacuate the dead body now properly engaged in the process of rigor-mortis.
People return back to business, opening shops and lighting the fires back for their abacha stoves to roast corn.
In a far distance, a mother spanks her 5 year old son who has forgotten to return back to his doorstep after playing with other kids. "You want to be like all those bad boys abi?" She yells as she spanks him some more. "No be me you go kill. C'mon sit down there!" As she drags him to sit in one place.
Business is back to usual with the occasional gist about the person who got shot and how these boys no get sense.

In a bunker somewhere, are clustered visibly shaken young men, smoking hemp. "Aro Danger Master don go overboard o. May the gates of Valhalla be closed to us." They all make varying statements mostly vowing revenge, meanwhile deep down, most are scared shitless and are looking for a way not to be picked as members of the next hit-squad going for revenge in a never -ending war over a reason they can't really pin-point.
All these while, there's an argument between the police and the mortuary attendant over accommodating the dead body of the guy who just got shot in the head. The family hasn't shown up yet and sure as hell, non of his fellow cult members has turned up to even say they know him. They are all somewhere busy drinking squadron and chanting, "Aro sorry o. We no know."
While all these happen, the rest of society just goes on with their normal lives. Next Saturday, Cynthia will get married, Uche's birthday party will hold, and Late Chief Ambrose will be laid to rest - a proper burial for a man who had lived a productive life to a ripe old age, gaining the respect of society and training his five children through University.
The cult war is but a distant undertone. A battle between the lowest lives in the society. These deaths a case of evil canceling out evil for the betterment of society. A war started probably by a fight over a worn out prostìtute. A waste of time and souls.
Then peace talks will hold and all those lives lost, forgotten. Aro Danger Master only remembered by his Marine and no other. They didn't even take notice of the war in Asaba, all too busy fighting theirs in their various states to be concerned about one sailor who had gone to be with Odin.
Aro Danger Master, Norwish Michael Obunneme would have been married in the next 5 years and seen his first daughter crawl, walk, graduate and get married in this very Asaba if only he had resisted the urge to join a cult.
Alas! Here he lies on a pale bed at the entrance of a mortuary, unattended as the voices of the policemen and hospital attendants arguing in the distance begin to fade.

Say no to cultism.

GreenArrow1:


Asaba is not boiling anything. The non-cultists will go about their normal activities, have fun and enjoy themselves while those who are cultists run up and down in panic like rats whose tails have been set on fire.
A few people will die. They won't be mourned for long. You know why? They mostly only constituted nuisance to the society when they were alive.
"Pooh!" A gunshot will ringout. A body falls in the street. People run, albeit temporarily. After a few hours, the police shows up to evacuate the dead body now properly engaged in the process of rigor-mortis.
People return back to business, opening shops and lighting the fires back for their abacha stoves to roast corn.
In a far distance, a mother spanks her 5 year old son who has forgotten to return back to his doorstep after playing with other kids. "You want to be like all those bad boys abi?" She yells as she spanks him some more. "No be me you go kill. C'mon sit down there!" As she drags him to sit in one place.
Business is back to usual with the occasional gist about the person who got shot and how these boys no get sense.

In a bunker somewhere, are clustered visibly shaken young men, smoking hemp. "Aro Danger Master don go overboard o. May the gates of Valhalla be closed to us." They all make varying statements mostly vowing revenge, meanwhile deep down, most are scared shitless and are looking for a way not to be picked as members of the next hit-squad going for revenge in a never -ending war over a reason they can't really pin-point.
All these while, there's an argument between the police and the mortuary attendant over accommodating the dead body of the guy who just got shot in the head. The family hasn't shown up yet and sure as hell, non of his fellow cult members has turned up to even say they know him. They are all somewhere busy drinking squadron and chanting, "Aro sorry o. We no know."
While all these happen, the rest of society just goes on with their normal lives. Next Saturday, Cynthia will get married, Uche's birthday party will hold, and Late Chief Ambrose will be laid to rest - a proper burial for a man who had lived a productive life to a ripe old age, gaining the respect of society and training his five children through University.
The cult war is but a distant undertone. A battle between the lowest lives in the society. These deaths a case of evil canceling out evil for the betterment of society. A war started probably by a fight over a worn out prostìtute. A waste of time and souls.
Then peace talks will hold and all those lives lost, forgotten. Aro Danger Master only remembered by his Marine and no other. They didn't even take notice of the war in Asaba, all too busy fighting theirs in their various states to be concerned about one sailor who had gone to be with Odin.
Aro Danger Master, Norwish Michael Obunneme would have been married in the next 5 years and seen his first daughter crawl, walk, graduate and get married in this very Asaba if only he had resisted the urge to join a cult.
Alas! Here he lies on a pale bed at the entrance of a mortuary, unattended as the voices of the policemen and hospital attendants arguing in the distance begin to fade.

Say no to cultism.

Inspireddd:


That guy Nobodycan na Macro. See his handwriting now?

See his voice and intonation. Many people donot know that posts on social media leave auditable foot prints In terms of intonation, style, diction, voice and others which i may not want to divulge as a security person.

That idiot is Macro. Even if he is not Macro, he is still Macro. I know what i’m saying

Nobodycan:
i should Swear that I'm not ??Macro... Shey u dae wyne me nii...Dont quote me again, if u and Macro get beef go settle am with am...Oponu omo

Inspireddd:


Why are you afraid to swear? Oya let us swear na.

I suggest you be careful because you don’t even know me. I’m a security personnel and not even on the level of commissioner of police. I’m higher.

I can comfortably feed you so be careful who you insult on this platform

Passionate888:
We've heard about colours, what about drinks? I know Vikings prefers Squadron dark rum which they call Squady, what about the rest?

Nobodycan:
make I send my Aza??

LifeOfTrigga:


Me too,

Nobodycan:
guy chill first na...well sha e go get money ,D man position high pass that of Commissioner ...Or make we send our btc wallet address give him..

Passionate888:
We've heard about colours, what about drinks? I know Vikings prefers Squadron dark rum which they call Squady, what about the rest?

Inspireddd:


Why are you afraid to swear? Oya let us swear na.

I suggest you be careful because you don’t even know me. I’m a security personnel and not even on the level of commissioner of police. I’m higher.

I can comfortably feed you so be careful who you insult on this platform

OBelz:
Don't say what you don't know.

King, was the the head of a temple, as usual heads have many girl friends, he was in his finals and one of his girl had a CO course.

One cool Saturday evening, they were all gathered having a good time, aibjust bumped into them to greet them when, Solo, cornered me and told me to talk to King about his decision to write the CO course for the babe. He said, "we (all of them) don yarn make him no do am, but king say he will do it".

The day came for the exam, he went in to seat for her, unfortunately, he was caught and rusticated. She graduated went for service while King was expelled from school.

They (brothers) all blamed him for not hiding to their advise. He was still forming love to her, but as a girl she has moved but King was like Laycon of BBNAIJA loving and having feelings, would you blame him? She sent king nasty messages he later moved on. She invited him to her wedding, but she specifically instructed servers not to serve King.

BlackBra! Did the remaining Job.

Inspireddd:


Why are you afraid to swear? Oya let us swear na.

I suggest you be careful because you don’t even know me. I’m a security personnel and not even on the level of commissioner of police. I’m higher.

I can comfortably feed you so be careful who you insult on this platform

Ambiitiouscent:


I must quote this, I f<king hate it when retards comes on here to form government agents. Nobody cares about your status in the society; civilian or otherwise. Keep your identity to yourself. I want to believe you’re not a kid. Thank you.

forexguruu:
guy shut up. this is getting too much. someone debunked you to be a useless cultist. a security personel higher than commisioner of police that is scared of king azuibike and calling everybody him? u sound like a road side tout. you have been trying so hard to make this thread loose its focus

Ambiitiouscent:


I must quote this, I f<king hate it when retards comes on here to form government agents. Nobody cares about your status in the society; civilian or otherwise. Keep your identity to yourself. I want to believe you’re not a kid. Thank you.

Nobodycan:
make I send my Aza??

Nobodycan:
Alora own are Lords Gin ,Ahoy own is Sailors Rum ,not common but they also take Squadron, I think the rest frat are mixed drinkmm

butterfly777:

Islike eiye drink Chelsea

butterfly777:

Islike eiye drink Chelsea