I know your father is rich, your mother’s a witch, and you the daughter, you’re a bad ass bitch. First Class from Greenwich, good professors to teach, never gàrí, never kúlí, your own is sandwich. I looked at you I liked you, who cares for your niche? But you looked at me, all you saw is a glitch, thin bald riffraff, glorified ostrich. Thank you for the rejection, thank you for the ditch, but know this bitch, now my pocket may twitch, requiring a stitch, but I’m an ambitious Prince, ask your mother the witch, she could sense my pitch, and from your mansion to my ‘hood I bet she would switch.
I wooed you as a gentle fellow, you said you’re a Law fellow. And so what, can’t a lawyer be a bedfellow? I’m the Second, Order of Six Pure Fellows, very dangerous, like Harry Potter and the deathly hallows; massive like rhinos, owning tomorrows, prepare to see your gallows, Lord eBay bellows.
Instead of you to mellow, have a protector to follow, insure your legal tomorrow, you’re stubborn like Rollo, and in pride you wallow, not knowing life bitch, is something so hollow. Now you’ve provoked my biro, turned down a hero, no rest, no sleep, you’ll never again see your pillow. Are you scared now? We remove you from your mansion, put you on the streets. Are you scared now? We beat your ass facedown and run from the cops. Are you scared now? Your father comes chasing, we blow up his glass. You should be scared now, foreign school bitch.
-Lord eBay (and his street voices, 2017)