John, we'll live in the same house and be together forever, my sister,
And I pop your donkey more then I pop my plastic pistol, oh yeah.
Flow bad, I know your dad, we talked on the phone I was like 'you bad'
And he's like, that's not true, I've got snacks, I'm teh mofuckin' nomad!
I'm sorry, but your poems suck, and no one wants to be like you...
I set up a punching booth man, so genius can finally strike you.