dear Fab, i wrote but you still ain't callin'
i left my cell, my Twitter, and my e-mail at the bottom
i sent two tweets back in autumn, you must not-a got 'em
there prolly was a problem with my internet or somethin'
sometimes i type sentences too sloppy when i drop 'em
but anyways; fuck it, what's been up, how's little Fabby?
my sister's pregnant too, i'm 'bout to be a daddy
if i win a Grammy, guess who i'ma thank b?
that Street Family
i heard the song 'bout ya dead homies too, i'm sorry
i had a friend kill himself over some bitch who didn't want him
i know you probably hear this everyday, but you my nigga too
i even got the underground shit that you did with Clue
i got a room full of your posters and your pictures dude
i like the shit you did with Budden too, that shit was coo'
anyways, i hope you get this b, hit my tweet
follow me, i followed you, your shit is sweet
this is D

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dear Los, you still ain't called or wrote, i hope you have a chance
i ain't mad, i just think it's fucked up you don't answer fans
if you didn't wanna talk to me outside ya concert
it'll all cool bruh, but you coulda signed an autograph for Soopa
that's the big homie man, he's only 16 years old
we waited in the blistering cold for you
four hours and you just said "no"
that's pretty shitty man, you're like my fuckin' idol
i wanna be just like you man, i like you more than ya wife do
i ain't that mad though, i just don't like bein' lied to
remember when we met in Detroit? you said if i'd write you
you would write back; see i'm just like you in a way
my teeth aren't really poppin' either
lucky for you, yours don't appear rotten either
i can relate to what you're sayin' in your songs
so when i think of flippin' K's, i drift away and put 'em on
'cause I don't really got shit else so that shit helps when i'm depressed
i even got a tattoo of your face across the chest
sometimes I even delete ya shit to see how much i need
it's like heroin, ya shit is such a sudden rush for me
see everything you say is real, and i respect you cause you tell it
my sister gets jealous 'cause I talk about you 24/7
but she don't know you like i know you Los, no one does
she don't know what it was like for people like us growin' up
you gotta tweet me bro, i'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
sincerely yours, Desp -- p.s. we should be together too

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dear Mr. "I'm Too Good to Tweet or Text My Fans"
this'll be the last message i EVER send your ass
it's been six months and still no word; i don't deserve it?
i know you got my last two tweets, i typed your username perfect
so this is my mp3 i'm sending you, hope you get this now
i'm in the car right now, i'm doing 90 in a hick town
hey Fab, i drank like 50 wine coolers, dare me to drive?
you know the song by Phil Collins, "In the Air Tonight"?
about that guy who coulda saved that other guy from drowning
but didn't, then Phil saw it all, then at a a show he found him?
that's kinda how this is, you coulda rescued me from drowning
now it's too late, i'm on about 5 Tylenol now, i'm drowsy
and all i wanted was a lousy message or some shit
i hope you know i took ALL of your pictures out my sig
i love you Fab, we coulda been together, think about it
you ruined it now, i hope you can't sleep and you dream about it
and when you dream I hope you cant sleep and you scream about it
i hope your conscience plays your song and you can't Breathe without me
see Fab?; [shut up bitch, i'm tryna talk!]
hey Fab, that's my sister screamin' in the trunk
but i didn't slit her throat, just long dicked her, see i ain't like you
'cause Shogun had the right idea with KidSk from NY dude
well, gotta go, i'm almost at the bridge now
oh shit, i forgot, how am i supposed to send this shit out?