Sup y'all, KaliMuscle here, the most jacked mobster you know.  Everything about me is swole as hell.  My muscles, my wallet, everything I got is swole.  Money and muscle, that's what life is about y'all.

I look around at a lot of y'all... y'all ain't got no muscle.  Y'all don't exercise right, y'all don't eat right, y'all look like shit... that's why y'all ain't got nobody from the opposite sex interested in y'all.  Y'all ain't got no game.  Even Godfathers nowadays sittin in coffeeshops talkin' to women soundin sexually frustrated and awkward as hell.  Y'all know what I'm talkin about.  It's a damn shame.

And some of y'all younger mobsters and kids runnin around new to this thing of ours don't know what they doing at all.   That's ok, everybody has to start somewhere, but they ain't  got nobody worth a damn there to mentor them right.  Most of y'all don't have no idols to look up to and to inspire you.  That's where KaliMuscle comes in.  I'm here to teach y'all how to be big like me, have muscles like me, be gangster like me. 

I can help y'all.  I have a lot of game and wisdom to drop on the people that want to learn, but this knowledge isn't free.  I'll be expecting to be tipped handsomely for this knowledge.  My street tutorials are coming soon, I hope some of you take advantage of the uncut dope I plan on sharing with the people that want to learn, just be sure to show your appreciation when that tip jar comes around your way.

Oh and by the way, I ain't greedy.  A portion of all tips received will be sent directly to ReverendSharpton's childrens fund.  The courts and his various baby mommas have a different name for it, but here at the Supreme Church of Seeking Profits, we just call it a children's fund.

Nganga was a decrepit, old, and soggy loaf of a man. Every breeze was a tempest to his thin, wiry frame, and the bulges of his skeleton protruded from withered skin like an epidermal prisoner. He could barely open a church door, let alone rough up a chump. And unfortunately, in his business, getting physical was a day-to-day risk. So much so that becoming swole might just be the thing he needed to take his work to another level. And if there was a place to get swole, you know it was with the swolest man in town, KaliMuscle. They said Kali himself was behind Zeus' righteous abdominals, perpetually on display at The Church, where the scantily-toga'd right hand of The Reverend floated around deifically. Nganga understood his mortality would work against him in comparison with the Warden of Olympus but figured Kali could do a good job anyway. When the tutorials began, the old mystic would be there.