Cuz I got Estes in my testes.
Cuz I got an Italian leather sofa and an angel willing to share her healthy breasts with ME.
Cuz I got some Shiraz '03 flowin in me.
Cuz I done served that soul crushin’ witch!
So unless you gonna gimme somethin’ I want, you best not F*** with me tonight. Else I’ll stuff you in a noodle and eat you with marinara and a nice Chianti.
Cuz the Shiraz is all gone!
Cuz I will lose it like a ninja
Inigo, Inigo…
So you got some soul-crushin, Merlot swilling, breasty leather couch bouncin’ going on.
What you doing HERE telling US???
Get your breastal sharing, Merlot and marinara manicotti stuffin self back to bidness man!!!
But tell us in the morning, because we live for breast stories. 
Now, wait a second - I think the germane part of this not-completely coherent story is the “I done served that soul crushin’ witch!” part, assuming that he means he served divorce papers to his current wife who is a very bad person and needs to go away forever (if my memory and picking up bits and pieces here and there are correct).
If that’s the case, good you you, mang.
Oh, for the love of… - good FOR you, mang. Good you you indeed! I’ve only been typing for 22 years now, no reason to start doing it correctly or anything…
Could someone 'splain to me what the hell is going on, besides an apparently (and comically) drunk Inigo?
Am I being whooshed? Well, I take that back . . . I am being whooshed. 
Tripler
Re: “Marinara”. Hopefully whooshed for only twenty minutes.
With all love and respect to Inigo, he always posts like this.
Update?
A late April Fool?
I’m going to assume it’s song lyrics, or something like that
Tits are for kids.
I’m sorry & it’s about damned time! 