(Please sing this post while reading it)
Its twelve in the evening, and I’m walkin’ in to my beeeddrroooom. / I look down on the floor, and I can’t believe what I’m seein’ here. / I says “Is that you Twan? How the hell did you get up on my floor? / I thought I had sent you to sleep with the mother fucking fiiishes” / He says “My name ain’t Twan, and I’m here to exact some reveeeenge” / “My name is Sylvester, and you’re the man who killed my broooother” / So I pulled out my beretta, I trapped him in a tumbler, then I took some photos, then I smashed his ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass.