Random Pt. 3

I’m at a studio in the vocal booth with Marco

Rubio.

The stage name he decided on is Marco

Julio.

He threw me

a bag of rubies, which inspired me to record a hook

Inside the booth is a mirror and we’re checking out

how we look

He clears his throat a bunch of times and then

attacks the mic

I shout ad-libs from behind

when he’s done, I command the mic

The hook is dope, he’s impressed

when he hears it back

he bows his head

and pounds his chest

We’re on tour months later and on the bus debate who’s greater

Is it him or me?

I act like

it perplexes me

But deep within

I think it’s me

Then he claims

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be shit”

I must admit, that got me pissed

The tour’s done

I go solo

I diss him hard on a song called

Marco

Holo.

Now the poor guy can’t even go gold, I think we know

who the victor is

Next thing you know I’m at a red light

listening to my latest hit

A Dodge Ram pulls up and I hear a voice

talking shit

Yes, it’s Marco, hanging out the window

Red-faced and waving a fist

Then he pulls a gun but in the midst of it

falls headfirst

on the street

I get out the car and now Marco…

 

he is asleep

 

 

 

 

 

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