Michael Jackson

You know, I got to talk about Michael, too Fuck it, you know, ain't nothing changed Shit, I love Michael, got to meet him Michael, the baddest entertainer in the world How many motherfuckers can say they jammin' in Bucharest? How many motherfuckers can say that? You know I'm jammin' in Bucharest next week, right? Michael got Iranians like that You's a bad motherfucker when you got them motherfuckers jumpin' Because all they want to do is blow up shit Niggas have bombs on their back like this If you ain't good, we blowin' it up Go on, motherfucker, no, I think Michael's a mack, man I think he pimpin' Brooke, I think once the camera's off Michael's like this, look, bitch, don't play with me Make me a motherfuckin' sandwich Beat it, make me a goddamn sandwich Don't fuck around, Brooke, got a little of my father in me now Don't fuck around, man, no, and then Liz Taylor Gonna bring her ass out Remember on the interview, Liz come tell her I want to say a few words about Michael I want a bitch, no you don't, Liz What? We talkin' to Michael And you notice Liz was sittin' down Telling Oprah stories about Michael And Michael was in the back with Liz like this, rockin' Remember when he was rockin', he was listenin' his ass off Like, bitch, don't you tell Oprah no shit I don't want her to know You shouldn't have been out this motherfucker, girl And you know what fucked me up? Michael wanted to meet me, though That's fucked me up, Michael Jackson, man Wanted to meet me, I said, damn, it was a trip Because his security came and got me, you know And his security tried, you know how motherfuckers do their job too, you know Just overdo the shit, security act like it was some big CIA shit You know, gonna walk up to me and shit, uh, excuse me, Martin Yeah, well, look here, uh, Michael wanna meet you Michael who, motherfucker? Michael from Good Times? Michael who? Motherfucker talkin' about Michael Michael who, motherfucker? He talkin' about Michael And I was like, oh shit Michael, wanna meet me? Now I thought when I meet Michael Jackson I would walk in there and just stay myself Be myself, you know, walk in like the man I am You know, just walk in, yo, what's up, Mike? Pleasure to meet you, you know, just doin' my thing, you know Fuckin' with the white people, oops, no offence, Mike Didn't mean to go down, y'all, but it was different 'Cause I walked in, and I felt like a little bitch And once again, the shit just came out I went in doin' medleys and shit of Michael's songs How you doin', Michael, how you doin'? Been the two of us, we love no more I'll be there, dancin', dancin', dancin' But what fucked me up was, Michael shook my hand, and he jumped back Motherfucker said, ah, ah, ah What the fuck you jumpin' for, man? You asked to meet me, Michael, I didn't ask to meet you And Miss Jackson was sittin' in the corner, and I ain't see her I said, hey, how you doin', Miss Jackson? And she jumped up, Joe, stop beatin' the kids Joe, stop beatin' the kids, and I had to calm her down No, Miss Jackson, no, I was explainin' to Michael I love it and beat it, nah, he didn't say nothin' about beatin' the kids Everything, I'm Martin Yeah, beat it, the music, his song No, I'm not the one who hit Latoya with the chair Miss Jackson, calm down, I did not hit Latoya Well, shit, you said the bitch was psychic She should've known the chair was comin'