Everything's cool, cept ya'll's tempers...
Actin like flamethrowers heatin September.
Dumbass kids with no respect...
Upset cuz in life, I'm the true vet.
Marked my place without needin help...
While ya'lls played with toys from off ya shelf.
And you think that would buy me just a hint of props...
The fact I saw rap born, but all I get is chops.
From little punk bandits tryin ta steal my esteem...
Hidin behind screens while tryin ta act mean.
But nothing they say even slightly hurts me...
Cuz what I have is real and deep like the sea.
What have you got? Homework and fuckin zits?
16 with an album? Only ya folk's will get rich.
If it even sells, but I bet ya land in the 'marked down bin'...
Cuz ya kids are a dime a dozen, now does that sink in?

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Merkings will occur Monday thru Friday, 8 am thru 5 pm, C.S.T.
For my convenience, not yours!