When I give you the finger,
you lend me a hand, right?
When my eyes start to linger,
you can't start a fight.

Only I can, because I am
an entitled ****, a nice guy
a white ly-
ing, shirtless dancing,
dominant beta male.

My fragile ego's fresh
but my mouth smells stale.
I am so deeply priviliged,
I can not not expect success.
And I still dare to beg for someone
to help me get out of this mess.
When alone, I see I'm out of luck
because I am an entitled ****.