A POEM, FROM THE SICK, SAD, SICK, SICK MIND OF THE ONLY PERSON IN THE U.S. WITH A LICENSE TO OWN YOUR FAY-GOT ASS.. gb2k.

Sir Jacob S. Pimpsmoore. You may find him in the alley-way between the circus and the Wendy's, he'll probably be doing what he loves most:  giving wedgies to poor unwilling rich boys. And drinking more hard liquor in one night then a single club in Ireland does in one month.

Dear Internet, to whom it may concern..

Consider this my resignation from the Ghetto.

To the big pimp on 43rd and Central.. Fuck you.

To Chef Baker and his Gut Buster brownies.. Fuck you.

To the boys at the basketball court- - the ones who beat the shit out of me when I ran across the court nude.. Fuck you twice. 

To the women who are always really nice to me when I give them money.. Fuck you, you and you.

To the county D.A., and the wigger who prosecuted me, you guessed it.. Fuck you.

To your mother and the president of the United States, especially.. Fuck you.

So take my keys, and my pants too, you stupid dumb negro
Make me bend over backwards so you get the best shot
You better look out cuz..

"ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US."

-- gb2k. Bringing the world together with "TEH FUNNEY"