When you walk into walls of whispering, weeping willows

overflowing with flowered feather-filled pillows

there lies a portal full of evil, soulless mortals.

Maniacal, misogynistic morons —

Shoot ‘em all with an AK-47;

Blow up the stereo and turn it up to 11.

Conquer and defeat, destroy. Crash and deploy.

Create, recreate, reiterate. Illiterate, retaliate, elevate.

When words collide, they conquer and divide.

Things you can’t resist, they’ll fall apart and they’ll never exist.

I’m spitting, shooting, and shining big, bad bombs.

Bustin’ rhymes, toll times, fools committing crimes, clock chimes,

money bagging with dollars, cents and dimes;

Bankrolling, Sunday strolling, blow up the joint;

Clear, concise, I’ll get to the point.

What’s yours is mine, point blank.

I just stole and won this competition.

And that’s the finale of my rendition.