monte shut yo midget ass up, you aint no factor, i dont know what pill you off or who bought you that zima lite you sippin on, but yo soft as clay aiken ass would get crushed and get yo camera took.
simmer down now kid, respect your elders and remember your place
now since you grew a couple chest hairs and got your dick wet you think your just going to balls up and type tough. you breath still smell like a fillmoe backstreet, ole beggin for attention ass gary coleman with braids lookin muthafucka.
you do not have a corporation going, you are not a boss, and your work ethics on some pathetic kid shit
slow yo roll and mind yo tone youngen and the next time we meet again, shake my hand like a man and dont give that limp wristed ass "heeey whaaaats up man" with yo michael jackson with a sore throat soundin ass
know your place BOY