B Vibe Quotes

Right. A tiki bar will blend in great with the whole Henry VIII vibe going on at the B&T. Bring me a scorpion bowl, wench.

Be yourself one hundred and one thousand percent. Everybody man, from the sides to the back to the middle to the sides, you might not even know people, but if you rock with Lil B music and respect me from the core, you should know that based means you have someone you can trust, because we all have a common courtesy. It’s about having empathy now. What I mean is really caring and paying attention to somebody else’s feeling. You gotta have empathy and know we all on this common vibe. It’s all peace. It’s saying, hey, you know what, you can hit me and I’m not hitting you back. And that takes a very big person to do that.

You are dumb. But it’s okay. You’re hot and ooze that look-at-me-I’m-dangerous vibe, so I’m sure you’ll find someone.” “Don’t forget rich.” “Not by my standards. Just try not to make conversation. You’re not very good at it.” “Based on you dry humping my leg like a b*tch in heat five seconds ago, I’m sure I’ll be able to keep them entertained some other way.

Women have a sense about themselves. There are certain vibes they can feel. They just know. It’s survival instinct we were born with and mine was going off like a bean si on coke.

That look he’s giving you? That’s want, girlfriend. Desire. Maybe even possession. You know that whole touch-and-die-vibe.

Sad but sometimes clever" Difficult to describe my sadness; It broadens the vibe of madness; Yet not all proscribe of alertness; Running the bribe awkwardness; I knew people ascribe bitterness; Not good, step imbibe blindness; My mouth diatribe I do calmness; Hush feels jibe in our cleverness;

Okay, you’re at the club, right? There’s, like, a sick R&B song playing or whatever. You’re vibing.” I start bopping my head to nonexistent music. He stares at me in dismay. “Oh no. I’m not approaching you if that’s how you’re dancing.” I stare back. “Do you want me to play your game, or can I go find Ryder and be on my way⁠—” “Fine, let’s continue. You ready?” “I guess so?” I don’t know what it is about hockey players, but I find that all of them are insane. Sexy but insane. Shane moves to the doorway, cracks his knuckles, and then fully commits to his character by striding toward me exuding sheer confidence. He casts that smile again. Tucks one hand in his pocket, all cool-like. “Hey,” he says. “Hey,” I play along. “I’m Shane.” “Gigi.” “Tell me something, Gigi.” He slants his head. “Are you an organ harvester? Because you’ve stolen my heart.” Dead silence crashes over the room. Then I keel over with laughter.