Many of you thought that card you got from the DMV was a license to be an asshole, but found out in traffic court that you were very wrong. Well, the good folks at Absolut Vodka have answered your prayers. As part of their “Be Kanye” campaign they’ve developed a pill that will let you look and act just like Kanye West for up to four hours at a time and cure that bloated feeling you’ve had since lunch.

After I got over the pause-worthy thought of swallowing Kanye West pills I washed two of them down with a swig of Absolut Vodka, just to see what would happen. First thing I felt was my head swell to twice its normal size and I became overcome with an intense sense of entitlement. My cell phone blew up with text messages from Rhymefest asking if he could trade his publishing on “Jesus Walks” for another single with me and I politely told him that Charles Hamilton has filled his spot now and that he should go re-join Consequence in the stock room at Food Lion.

However, the next thing I felt was the glare of Jay-Z for endorsing this throat-scorching swill when I had a lifetime supply of Armadale vodka sitting in my basement. I shrugged it off, threw up the diamond and went shopping. Absolut is paying for my tour. And I’m selling more records than you. No Roger, No Rerun, No rent.

After filling my G5 Mercedes Wagon with Louis Vuitton Monogramouflage luggage I text Dame Dash and remind him that I still sell more records than he does. Who’s the accessory now, bitch?

I hit the studio and start working on my own Barack Obama mixtape. I find some old Johnny Pate to sample to keep that Chicago steez and show these lames how far ahead of the game I am. I should have a cabinet spot locked by the time I get to the hook.

By now I start feeling thirsty and take a swig of Aquadeco bottled water, but it tastes funny. I spit it out onto the ground and it’s brown. I look at the bottle and look through the clear fluid and take another swig. Again, funny taste. I finally realize that I’ve been talking so much shit that everything that comes out of my mouth is facetious…ha, ha. Get it? Of course you don’t but if you act like you don’t get my punch lines you’re not cool. And I’ve given Jay-Z, Common and Talib enough dope ass beats that they have no choice but to co-sign my skills. You hate it. I know. I put Mad Skillz onto my backpack game and he’s down now. You see the sparks and shit shooting out of his backpack now? I did dat.

My dentist calls but I ignore it. My crooked jaw is a badge of honor. And as long as I dress this good I don’t need straight teeth. Diddy taught me that. Besides, talking shit feels good through clenched teeth…Plus I can go as the Brown Hornet for Halloween this year and kill it.

And just like that I black out. When I wake up I’m on stage at Bonnaroo getting pelted with glowsticks. Fuck this. Tomorrow I’mma drink some wheat grass and become Lupe Fiasco. Same wardrobe, less hazardous.

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