You are the gum on my Adidas. You colonized rap because of your winky white-boy wiener. You always speak in a foreign tongue that is completely made up by you! I grew up in the '90s. I listened to KRS-One and Public Enemy—people who had things to say. But you don't have shit to say. All you do is pose and hug groupies. Your white-boy club of outright losers wears on my soul. You have all the right toys, a studio, a nice car, the dankest weed. You have all the right connections to your wack-ass dreams. And you are always talkin' 'bout haters. Did you ever think that maybe people hate you because you SUCK? Did you ever think that was possible? Is the THC eating your brain? When I see you perform, I think about giving myself a hysterectomy and throwing each part of my decomposing ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus, and dead vagina at you. Because the thought of the idiot girls around me being attracted to a fool like you makes me want to kill myself slowly in front of you.

—Anonymous