Post by Wesley Wymer on Aug 29, 2007 20:29:08 GMT -5
Wednesday... August 29th, 2007.
So here we are, just the two of us. I lived up to my reputation, and fulfilled the prophecy. The infamous Melchizedek continues to be immortal, while my enemies perish beneath the sands of time. For an entire decade, ten years of verbal warfare, the Ghost Boy was a sickly sheep amidst the wolves. They my enemies ridiculed me, and said I would die on the streets. They half expected me to become emotionally challenged and committ suicide. Some of them used words to hurt me, while others aimed at hacking my computer. Ten years of patience... waiting... watching... and now, here we are.
I told you motherfuckers you would feel my pain. I told yall one day I would rise immortal, and that I would out-run the competition. Back then I was the laughing stock of the crowd. I was the poor fool who entertained all the spoiled rich white kids. You called me a wigger, a loser and a sorry little boy. Time and time again, I sought for your help and friendship. Time and time again, I would reach out with my rhymes. Yet time and time again, you shunned me and called me crazy. Time and time again... and now, here we are.
Looks like this sorry little boy grew up to become a god. Now look at me, I am unstoppable. All the spoiled rich kids grew up to become hard working slaves to my cause. No longer do they ridicule me, because they dont have time to talk shit. They are all too busy struggling to make a living. Heheheh, yet the poor boy stands here now as a wealthy man. I went from black-n-white TV and a Nintendo to DSL and Xbox Live, yet still I represent the hood. Haters used to hold me down, but now I'm here talking shit... to nobody.
I win, motherfuckers... Get money, bitches... I can now afford to relax all day and waste time. Boy how you underestimated my pain. Damn how you overlooked my hatred and cold-heartedness. Now the Ghost Boy sits here talking, typing, texting, rubbing it in. How good it feels to have cash. How great it feels to be a gangster, and sit on my ass. Now your boy just counts money, and even then I'm thinking they should pay me to count... another diss, another dollar.
How do you like my rhymes now, bitches? What can you do about it, you are retired and nobody knows your name. I myself am still active in the roleplaying community, as my homies have started developing a new game called Darkfall which allows gamers to do almost anything. We have stepped up the competition, while you losers are still trying to make a difference with your text-based RPG's... welcome to the future, caveman.
I could go on and on forever, I'm not busy, I got it made. But the truth is, yall bore me after a while. Why brag about kicking some online fighter's ass in textual combat, when I can sign into Xbox Live and brag about kicking some spartan's ass in Halo 2? Why waste any more time writing meaningless little rhymes to piss you off, when I can just hop on the microfone and talk shit to all yall who dont have mics? I'll tell you why... because I can... you had your turn, now its my time to shine. I told yall I can never be stopped, I am untouchable. I run this shit now, and the entire RPG world is my foot-stool. I am your new king... bow down, bitches, and beg for mercy.
I remain,
The Goddamn Greatest
So here we are, just the two of us. I lived up to my reputation, and fulfilled the prophecy. The infamous Melchizedek continues to be immortal, while my enemies perish beneath the sands of time. For an entire decade, ten years of verbal warfare, the Ghost Boy was a sickly sheep amidst the wolves. They my enemies ridiculed me, and said I would die on the streets. They half expected me to become emotionally challenged and committ suicide. Some of them used words to hurt me, while others aimed at hacking my computer. Ten years of patience... waiting... watching... and now, here we are.
I told you motherfuckers you would feel my pain. I told yall one day I would rise immortal, and that I would out-run the competition. Back then I was the laughing stock of the crowd. I was the poor fool who entertained all the spoiled rich white kids. You called me a wigger, a loser and a sorry little boy. Time and time again, I sought for your help and friendship. Time and time again, I would reach out with my rhymes. Yet time and time again, you shunned me and called me crazy. Time and time again... and now, here we are.
Looks like this sorry little boy grew up to become a god. Now look at me, I am unstoppable. All the spoiled rich kids grew up to become hard working slaves to my cause. No longer do they ridicule me, because they dont have time to talk shit. They are all too busy struggling to make a living. Heheheh, yet the poor boy stands here now as a wealthy man. I went from black-n-white TV and a Nintendo to DSL and Xbox Live, yet still I represent the hood. Haters used to hold me down, but now I'm here talking shit... to nobody.
I win, motherfuckers... Get money, bitches... I can now afford to relax all day and waste time. Boy how you underestimated my pain. Damn how you overlooked my hatred and cold-heartedness. Now the Ghost Boy sits here talking, typing, texting, rubbing it in. How good it feels to have cash. How great it feels to be a gangster, and sit on my ass. Now your boy just counts money, and even then I'm thinking they should pay me to count... another diss, another dollar.
How do you like my rhymes now, bitches? What can you do about it, you are retired and nobody knows your name. I myself am still active in the roleplaying community, as my homies have started developing a new game called Darkfall which allows gamers to do almost anything. We have stepped up the competition, while you losers are still trying to make a difference with your text-based RPG's... welcome to the future, caveman.
I could go on and on forever, I'm not busy, I got it made. But the truth is, yall bore me after a while. Why brag about kicking some online fighter's ass in textual combat, when I can sign into Xbox Live and brag about kicking some spartan's ass in Halo 2? Why waste any more time writing meaningless little rhymes to piss you off, when I can just hop on the microfone and talk shit to all yall who dont have mics? I'll tell you why... because I can... you had your turn, now its my time to shine. I told yall I can never be stopped, I am untouchable. I run this shit now, and the entire RPG world is my foot-stool. I am your new king... bow down, bitches, and beg for mercy.
I remain,
The Goddamn Greatest