http://www.gizoogle.net/textilizer.php

You see, it takes your text, and then translates it into gangsta!



Talonz earliest memories is tha darknizz of Noxus' underground passages n' tha reassurin steel of a funky-ass blade yo. Dude rethugz no family, warmth, and kindness. Instead, tha clink of jacked gold n' tha securitizzle of a wall at his back is all tha kinshizzle he has ever craved. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Kept kickin it only by his quick witz n' deft thievery, Talon scraped up a livin up in tha seedy underbelly of Noxus yo. His mastery of tha blade quickly marked his ass as a threat, n' Noxian guildz busted assassins ta his ass wit a thugged-out demand: join they ranks and be capped. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Dude left tha bodiez of his thugged-out lil' pursuers dumped up in Noxus' moat as his bangin response.
Da assassination attemptz grew increasingly dangerous until one assailant kicked it wit Talon blade-for-blade up in a match of strength. To his surprise, Talon was disarmed n' facin down his wild lil' ****in executionerz sword when tha assassin revealed his dirty ass ta be General Du Couteau fo'sho. Da General offered Talon tha chizzle between dirtnap at his hand, and thuglife as a agent of tha Noxian High Command. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Talon chose life, on tha condizzle dat his steez was ta Du Couteau alone, fo' tha only type of ordaz he could respect was from one he could not defeat. Talon remained up in tha shadows, carryin up secret missions on Du Couteauz ordaz dat took his ass from tha frigid landz of Freljord ta tha inna sanctumz of Bandle City. When tha general vanished, Talon considered refrontin his wild lil' freedom yo, but he had gained immense respect from Du Couteau afta mutha****in years up in his steez yo. Dude became obsessed wit trackin down tha generalz whereabouts. Talonz suspicions led his ass ta tha doorz of tha Institute of War, where he joined tha League of Legendz up in order ta find em responsible fo' Du Couteauz disappearizzle.

Ravaged by Rune Wars long past, tha landz downtown of tha Great Barrier is wrecked by chaotic magical storms, leavin tha grasp of naturez rule tenuous at best. While abnormal flora and fauna is tha norm rather than tha exception up in these ruined areas, like none is mo' curious than tha case of Rammus. While no one is entirely certain why a armadillo from tha Shurima Desert crossed tha Kumungu Jungle tha **** into tha Plague Jungles, Rammus done cooked up just such a journey. There, amongst tha twisted vines n' festerin rot, he came across a odditizzle - a gamey everchronic hedge maze, stretchin as far as tha eye could peep fo' realz. As he explored tha maze, somethang compelled his ass towardz itz centa - a light, a presence of some kind. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! As he drew closer, tha light surged, blindin his ass n' knockin his ass unconscious.
When he awoke, Rammus' whole ghetto had chizzled. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Da maze had vanished n' he felt truly cognizant fo' tha straight-up original gangsta time up in his otherwise unremarkable thuglife fo' realz. As his thugged-out lil' predicament dawned on him, Rammus had a moment of panic fo' realz. As he trembled, tha earth around his ass ****in started ta shake, tha intensitizzle increasin until he managed ta steady his dirty ass fo' realz. As tha quake receded, Rammus arose n' left tha Plague Junglez up in search of others like his mutha****in ass yo. His search brought his ass across all tha landz downtown of tha Great Barrier yo, but everywhere he went, he was unique. Da hardshizzlez of dis sojourn inspired his ass ta craft tha suit of armor dat wouldgit his ass tha title of Armordillo. Rammusz quest eventually drew his ass ta tha only place where a sentient armadillo is less than confoundin - tha League of Legends.

Vicious n' elegant, Elisez charismatic grace lures tha innocent n' greedy alike tha **** into her wizzy of deceit. While her suckas may discover her true intentions, no one has ever lived ta reveal what tha **** dark secretz lie behind her enigmatic guise.

In dark halls, hidden from society, Elise preached tha word of a mythical spider god. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Her desperate followers hungered fo' tha godz favor, believin itz blessings ta be tha source of Elisez vibrizzle n' power. When Elise profronted dat her ass would lead a pilgrimage ta tha spider godz shrine, her ass selected only her most devout disciplez ta join her mutha****in ass. Ecstatic, tha chosen few followed her blindly as her ass led em on a perilous journey across tha sea. When they came ashore at they final destination, tha mysterious Shadow Isles, Elise led em ta a cold-ass lil cavern shrouded up in webs. Expectin a shrine, tha crew looked ta they priestess up in confusion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Biatch turned ta tha crowd n' raised her arms up in triumph, revealin strange, spiderlike legs dat grew up of her back. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Seein her terrifyin true form fo' tha straight-up original gangsta time, Elisez followers turned ta flee yo, but her ass conjured magical webs ta trap them. With her suckas ensnared, her ass turned ta grill tha cave n' uttered a screechin cry fo' realz. An enormous undead spider-beast emerged from tha darkness, draggin itz hideous bulk on thick, pointed legs. Elisez followers could only scream as tha monstrous spider ate em kickin dat ****, yo. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Biatch approached tha sated creature, extracted itz venom, n' drank tha strange substizzle fo' realz. An immediate sense of rejuvenation flowed all up in her veins. With mortalitizzle delayed once again, Elise left ta rejoin her congregation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. They was overjoyed ta hear dat they fellows had chosen ta remain all up in tha spider godz sacred home. Elise reassured her disciplez dat her ass would lead another pilgrimage up in due time. Da spider god would be waiting.

''Da truly faithful need not fear tha spiderz embrace.''
-- Elise

Lol Annie:
In tha time shortly before tha League, there was em within tha sinista hood-state of Noxus whoz ass did not smoke wit tha evils perpetrated by tha Noxian High Command. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Da High Command had just put down a cold-ass lil coup attempt from tha self-profronted Crown Pimp Raschallion, n' a cold-ass lil crack down on any form of dissent against tha freshly smoked up posse was underway. These polistical n' hood outcasts, known as tha Gray Order, sought ta leave they neighbors up in peace as they pursued dark arcane knowledge. Da leadaz of dis outcast society was a hooked up couple: Gregori Hastur, tha Gray Warlock, n' his ho Amoline, tha Shadow Witch. Together they led a exoduz of magicians n' other intelligentsia from Noxus, resettlin they followers beyond tha Great Barrier ta tha northern reachez of tha unforgivin Voodoo Lands. Though game was a cold-ass lil challenge at times, tha Gray Orderz colony managed ta thrive up in a land where all kindsa mutha****in others would gotz failed.

Years afta tha exodus, Gregori n' Amoline had a cold-ass lil child: Annie. Early on, Anniez muthafathas knew there was somethang special bout they daughta fo' realz. At tha age of two, Annie miraculously ensorcelled a shadow bear - a gangbangin' ferocious denizen of tha petrified forestz outside tha colony - turnin it tha **** into her pet. To dis dizzle her ass keeps her bear ''Tibbers'' by her side, often keepin his ass spellbound as a stuffed doll ta be carried like a cold-ass lil childz toy. Da combination of Anniez lineage n' tha dark magic of her birthplace gotz given dis lil ho tremendous arcane power. It is dis same stupid-ass ho whoz ass now findz her mutha****in ass as one of da most thugged-out sought-afta champions within tha League of Legendz - even by tha hood-state dat would gotz exiled her muthafathas had they not fled beforehand.

Oh and Karma's gangsta lore sounds like a porn movie.

Mordekaiser be a funky-*** bein of pure, livin agony on a mysterious dread quest. It be holla'd dat he was tha straight-up original gangsta of tha undead, existin before tha Shadow Islez was a whispered threat yo. His true name n' past lost ta history, Mordekaiser is feared fo' his stupid-*** grim manipulation of pain -both his own, n' dat of others fo' realz. Anguish fuels n' sustains him, servin as his ****in last connection ta life, as well as his crazy-ass most effectizzle weapon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy ******. In his wild lil' ****in enigmatic hunt, he be straight proven no one is safe, fo' even da most thugged-out courageous souls have surrendered they secretz up in his stupid-ass grasp.
One ho witnessed n' survived a encounta wit painz paladin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy ******. Late one night, tha lil' mage-in-trainin was awoken by tha sound of her masterz tortured screams. Overcomin her fear, her ass charged tha **** into tha library ta find it a shattered ruin. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy ******. There, her *** saw a hulkin figure clad up in a suit of armor dat seemed fused ta his body. It was clear tha grim intruder was lookin fo' somethang, n' was displeased wit tha thangs up in dis biatch fo' realz. At tha centa of tha once-majestic chamber, tha armored fiend clutched her mackdaddyz broken form. Right back up in yo mutha****in ***. ****** overheard her masterz final lyrics - dat he would die before he would give up his secrets. Mordekaiser laughed n' holla'd dat even dirtnap was no escape, then snapped tha masterz neck wit a sharp crack. Momentz later, tha horrified ho witnessed her masterz spirit torn from his body fo' realz. As if under some dark compulsion, tha shade ****in started ta reveal all ta his cold-*** torturer n' executioner. Da ho fled, livin ta tell her rap - should Mordekaiser come fo' you, even dirtnap itself aint gonna keep you from his crazy-*** mutha****in iron reach.

"Fear is confusion, pain is clarity."
―Mordekaiser

In Noxus, any playa hata may rise ta juice regardlesz of race, gender, and hood standin - strength be all dat matters. It was wit committed faith up in dis ideal dat Riven strove ta pimped outness. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Biatch flossed early potential as a soldier, forcin her mutha****in ass ta masta tha weight of a long-ass sword when her ass was barely itz height. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Biatch was ruthless n' efficient as a warrior yo, but her true strength lay up in her conviction. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Biatch entered battlez without any trace of doubt up in her mind: no ethical pause, no fear of dirtnap. Riven became a leader amongst her peers, posta lil pimp of tha Noxian spirit, n' I aint talkin bout no mutha****in Jack Daniels neither. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. So exceptionizzle was her bona dat tha High Command recognized her wit a funky-ass black stone rune sword forged n' enchanted wit Noxian sorcery. Da weapon was heavier than a kite shield n' nearly as broad - perfectly suited ta her tastes. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Soon after, her ass was deployed ta Ionia as part of tha Noxian invasion.

What ****in started as war quickly became extermination. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Noxian soldiers followed tha terrifyin Zaunite war machines across fieldz of dirtnap. It wasn't tha glorious combat fo' which Riven trained. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Biatch carried up tha ordaz of her supaiors, terminatin tha remnantz of a funky-ass beaten n' fractured enemy wit off tha hook prejudice fo' realz. As tha invasion continued, it became clear dat tha Ionian society would not be reformed, merely eliminizzled. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Durin one bitta engagement, Rivenz unit became surrounded by Ionian forces. They called fo' support as tha enemy closed up in around them. What they received instead was a funky-ass barrage of biochemical terror launched by Singed. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Riven watched as around her Ionian n' Noxian alike fell sucka ta a unspeakably gruesome fate. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Biatch managed ta escape tha bombardment, though her ass could not erase tha memory. Counted dead by Noxus, her ass saw a opportunitizzle ta start anew. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Biatch shattered her sword, severin tizzles wit tha past, n' wandered up in self-imposed exile - on a quest ta seek atonement n' a way ta save tha pure Noxian vision up in which her ass believed.

''There be a place between war n' cappin' / up in which our demons lurk.''

Ezreal started doin thangs wit tha gift of magic flowin all up in his veins. Ezreal, however, was also born wit a much stronger sense of wanderlust. Put tha **** into school ta become a scapped techmaturgist, Ezreal quickly became buggin up wit magical studies. By tha time tha pimp smart-ass was eight mutha****in years old, he had straight-up mapped up tha underground tunnelz of Piltover. Da qualitizzle of his work was so pimped out dat tha posse of Piltover purchased his crazy-ass maps n' salaried his skillz as Piltoverz Grandmasta Explorer. This sealed tha deal on Ezrealz path up in thuglife - he would eschew tha arcane artz up in favor of archaeologizzle. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Since then, countlesz of Ezrealz adventures done been written bout as romanticized stories.

One of Ezrealz sickest ****in adventures, however, has brought his ass face-to-face wit his other legacy - his ****in latent magical power. While explorin tha pyramidz of Shurima Desert, Ezreal uncovered a amulet of incredible juice fo' realz. Aside from tha sheer size of tha amulet (it was done cooked up fo' a funky-ass bein easily twice Ezrealz size), it allows tha wielder ta control n' shape magical juice - provided a source of magic is up in tha vicinity. This allowed Ezreal ta tap tha **** into his natural talent fo' magic without havin ta put any serious effort tha **** into it - a funky-ass big-ass win fo' tha Prodigal Explorer. Da drawback is dat fo' some unknown reason, tha amulet be attuned wit summonin magic. Without warning, Ezreal may find his dirty ass actin as a cold-ass lil champion for, as he putz it, "a summona hell-bent on resolvin some irrelevant ghetto-shatterin League conflict." Still, Ezreal feels bein summoned tha **** into a Field of Justice on occasion be a lil' small-ass price ta pay.

"Therez lil time ta study musty tomes when yo ass is busy crawlin around where tha musty tomes originally came from."
―Ezreal


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I must say...Never thought of Ezreal as a gangster in anyway till now.

This...
This is...
what...

Even amongst yordles, Rumble was always tha runt of tha litta fo' realz. As such, he was used ta bein bullied. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! In order ta survive, he had ta be scrappier n' mo' resourceful than his thugged-out lil' peers yo. Dude pimped a quick temper n' a hype fo' gettin even, no matta whoz ass crossed his mutha****in ass. This done cooked up his ass somethang of a lona yo, but he didn't mind. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Dude dug ta tinker, preferrin tha company of gadgets, n' he could probably be found rummagin all up in tha junkyard. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Dude flossed pimped out potential as a mechanic yo. His mackdaddys recommended his ass fo' enrollment all up in tha Yordle Academy of Science n' Progress up in Piltover, where he may straight-up well have become one of Heimerdingerz esteemed proteges yo, but Rumble refused ta go yo. Dude believed dat Heimerdinger n' his thugged-out associates was ''sellouts,'' tradin supaior yordle technologizzle ta humans fo' not a god damn thang mo' than a pat on tha head while yordlez remained tha butt of they jokes. When a crew of human graduates from tha Yordle Academy sailed ta Bandle Citizzle ta git on over ta tha place where they mentor started doin thangs n' raised, Rumble couldn't resist tha temptation ta peep em face-to-face (so ta speak) yo. Dude only intended ta git a phat peep tha humans yo, but four hours n' nuff mutha****in chizzle lyrics later, he returned home bruised n' bloodied wit a earful bout how tha **** he was a embarrassment ta ''enlightened'' yordlez like Heimerdinger. Da next mornin he left Bandle Citizzle without a word, n' wasn't peeped again fo' months. When he returned, he was all up in tha helm of a cold-ass lil clanking, mechanized monstrositizzle yo. Dude marched it ta tha centa of hood amidst dumbfounded onlookers n' there announced dat he would join tha League of Legendz ta sheezy tha ghetto what tha **** yordle-tech was straight-up capable of, without hidin behind a gangbangin' foreign banner.

''Ugh, itz gonna take forever ta scrape yo' grill off mah suit!''
-- Rumble

It be seldom tha case where a cold-ass lil champion is defined by his thugged-out actions afta joinin tha League of Legendz rather than before. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Such is tha case wit Jax, fo' whom tha argument could be done cooked up dat he is da most thugged-out prolific tournament fighta currently all up in tha Institute of War. Before joinin tha League, Jax was a unremarkable soldier-for-hire. For reasons known only ta tha former leader of tha League, High Councilor Reginald Ashram, Jax was put on tha top of tha list of mutha****as ta receive a League Judgment - tha rap battle process dat either acceptz and rejectz a prospectizzle champion. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. His Judgment was tha quickest up in League history, where tha Doorz of Acceptizzle glowed n' slowly swung open as soon as it ****in started. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Jax faced no recorded Observation and Reflection durin his Judgment.

Jax proved his dirty ass ta be a immediate terror up in tha Fieldz of Justice. Da self-profronted ''Armsmasta of tha League'' rattled off a streak of consecutizzle wins dat ta dis dizzle has not been matched. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! A number of summoners up in tha League grew concerned dat tha perceived objectivitizzle of tha League of Legendz would be dissed by tha presence of a unknown fighta whoz ass was unbeatable. For dis reason, tha freshly smoked up leader of tha League (followin Reginald Ashramz disappearizzle), High Councilor Heyward Relivash, created special restrictions fo' Jax ta fight under. This was somethang tha League had never done before, n' somethang dat has never been done since. Da burly fighta responded by imposin his own special conditions; as a meanz of protest, he permitted his dirty ass ta fight rockin only a funky-ass brass lamppost. Neither tha Leaguez sanctions nor his own has affected his ballin ways. Da League has since rescinded itz sanctions yo, but Jax has not; he fightz n' fightz well wit his cold-ass trusty brass lamppost.

''Be advised - there has been a outbreak of lamppost-shaped bruises up in tha League of Legends.''
-- Gragas

There be a place between dimensions n' between ghettos. To some it aint nuthin but known as tha Outside, ta others it aint nuthin but tha Unknown. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. To most, however, it aint nuthin but called tha Void. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! Despite itz name, tha Void aint a empty place yo, but rather tha home of unspeakable thangs, horrors not meant fo' mindz of men. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Though such knowledge is lost up in modern times, there is em whoz ass have unwittingly discovered what tha **** lies beyond, n' they done been unable ta turn away. Kassadin is such a cold-ass lil creature yo. Dude was once a playa forced ta look upon tha grill of tha Void n' forever chizzled by what tha **** he saw. Once a seeker of forbidden knowledge, he discovered dat what tha **** he sought was somethang else entirely yo. Dude is one of tha few dat has found his way ta forgotten Icathia n' lived ta tell tha tale, followin tha scant breadcrumbs hidden up in ancient texts.

Within a thugged-out decayin cyclopean hood, Kassadin found secretz of tha kind dat he will never share - secretz dat done cooked up his ass quake wit fear all up in tha visionz of thangs ta come dat was thrust upon his mutha****in ass. Da juice of tha place threatened ta consume his ass forever yo, but Kassadin took tha only route available ta his ass up in order ta survive - he let tha Void inside his mutha****in ass. Miraculously, he was able ta overcome tha alien urges dat went wit it, n' he emerged as somethang mo' than human. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Though a part of his ass took a dirt nap dat day, he knows dat he must protect Valoran from tha thangs scratchin all up in tha door, waitin ta git up in n' git on over ta they tormentz upon tha ghetto. Right back up in yo mutha****in ass. Y'all KNOW dat ****, mutha****a! They is only one step away... somethang ta which tha appearizzle of tha abomination known as Cho'Gath attests.

If you look upon tha Void, you can't put it behind yo thugged-out ass. If you look upon Kassadin, he is probably already there.