Message To A Drag Artist E

Yeah. Word to some of my former confidants, Acquaintances, colleagues, and partners. Look at it any way you want, if you Want to look, that is. Yeah, I peeped. But what I peeped wasn't game. What I peeped was pure, Undiluted, and absolute Porch monkey. Yeah, that's right. Porch monkey. Brothers whose sole purpose in life was to have No purpose. Opportunity knocked, but these unindustrious ones Were too busy humping some dirt miser to even Think about answering the door. So Mr. Opportunity walks on to the next door, Leaving another procrastinating would-be baller in His paths. And me, I was trying to play Mr. Cleanup Man. I had love beyond my wisdom, if you know What I mean. I opened my wallet and my studio. But you see, the lazy ones don't look for Ways to succeed, Just excuses not to. Hope you can dig what I'm saying. So Mr. Busta, Mr. Busta, before you pick up that telephone and Call brother something another And tell him mix-a-lot held you back, Pick your inactive, lethargic ass up and walk your Ass to the kitchen sink. Fill it up with water, partner. Ain't nothing to be scared of. Fill it up With water. Check yourself. I led you to the water, boy. It's your job to drink.