WYATT: ...Brought to life by chance or happenstance. "Fuck art! Lets (slow) dance!" until we're wearing holes in our dresses and pants. Don't take away anything that I say today.
Isn't nothing I can say to not press stop and let it play? Because we’ve all got our theories, shit, we get carried away. I get caught up with girls named Mary and Renee and Sarah and Cara and Kay, and any other girl who happens to walk my way. I got respect for my boy Fambrough. You know, even in war he's got the girls thick hot like bone marrow. We all get beat once if not a hundred times every month with the same ending and the same demise. I’ve seen the concussions; I've seen repercussions, and the reproductions from having slept with easy female Russians. You can kill a horse straight to the vein. I’ve got your discourse and affectionately sing to you a chorus in Morse. So, take away my arm and my leg. Don't make me beg for death or the last red Battleship peg, to hit on C-6. "You sunk my battleship!" I'd call you "bitch," but I've got enough useless shit coming from these faux-lips. I'd cry if I had eyes but all I've got are these blue lights¹, tacky as a Christmas tree in a window at night. You might look away from this play, I'd write myself in, with Forrest J on the mic, and even then, I wouldn't watch for the day or the way when I take my own life in front of my wife and before my trial begins. I can't take pills so I'll always have these chills and envy normal human thrills by just sitting still. This is classical, fantastical, masterful, modes of vague melody and hopefully it won't be the last song I sing.

ANTHONY: I got Wy's back like “Wyatt, Wyatt!” My girls say they like it, like it. When I go downtown, buy them a round, next thing you know I bury my dick in their ground. This might sting, it might hurt, but let it ring up to your head through your skirt. You can be Courtney and Wyatt be Kurdt. Why won't you wear my "AJ Fucked Me!" t-shirt? No one shoots a cop that they liked; to shoot a good cop is like killing Tina, not Ike. Shut the fuck up about my bike or I'm gonna' shoot you or strangle you with this mic. Girls don't forget to take your pill and don't let yourself get ill when I tell you to chill. You'll wish you hadn't when I beat you, or when I make my first mil, for real.

WYATT: I can't take my eyes off the exit. Expect me to do some crazy shit, just sit still and I'll get back to you. Don't blink for nothing. Just ask you something: “Is this for real or what? Am I bugging?” I drug a body down the street with its face in wet concrete—I kept it discrete, you know me. I believe that I was here for one thing, I can sing too. If you hear a ring just pick up. I got claustrophobic and what? Don't take no guff, don’t break no stuff. You always kind of like it when I'm in the buff. There's three sins I cannot commit: stealing, killing, or getting you wife wet in a sec. But you can keep your eyes out for players or a chets. That's it—don’t make me take the bet over under that shit.