By: Citizen Scribe
Hey, BO, you got nothin’.
You ain’t never been nothin’, ain’t never done nothin’, and you ain’t never made nothin’.
Whatchoo done, man? You talk smack. That’s all you got, man, is talkin’ smack.
You ain’t never built nothin’, man. You all about tearin’ stuff down.
You just some bitter, jealous, wannabe with no game.
It ain’t in you to tell the truth. You gotta lie about everything you done, everything you was, everything you wish you were.
You don’t believe nothin’. You can’t fix nothin’. You can’t even own yo’ own screw-ups, man.
You got nothin’. Yo’ gangsta friends, yo’ strongarm thugs, yo’ hired guns — they don’t respect you, man. Soon as the gravy runs out, that be when they runs out.
You gonna run again? You gonna tell those same tired lies again? You all smoke and mirrors, man.
Who you runnin’ against, man? Some guy who saved the Olympics, some guy who worked his ass off and made himself rich, some guy who knows what a payroll looks like, some guy who’s everything you wish you was. And you can’t handle that. A decent man, a family man, a good and honorable man.
He’s the real deal, man. He ain’t no fake like you.
You got nothin’.
You ain’t never gonna have nothin’.
Your whole life — tissue of lies. Empty and hollow. You got no talent, no honor, no character.
Sucks to be you, man.
No respect for a shriveled, blackened, treacherous soul like you.
Just thought you should know.
