You see. My ribs are touching. The kitchen has nothing. The fridge empty to the point thoughts of my dog starting to tempt me. You eating like a king, got like four plates empty. Beef and stakes eating all healthy,  chilling in your beach house, huge couch HDTV watching The NFL in HD listening to acy-breaky telling the cops you can't make me. I want a piece of the pie, can't get a break of this cake and we all know why. These snakes eat off of large estates, and feed off bigger plates, no matter what their eyes see, life is great, I just bless their soul, and wish them fate. They can lie to me, and say they love me, but I feel the hate. They say the understand me, but can't relate.