Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner, but I've just
been busy.
You said your girlfriend's pregnant now, how far along
is she?
Look, I'm really flattered you would call your
daughter that.
And here's an autograph for your brother: I wrote it
on your girlfriend's ass.

I'm sorry I didn't see you at the bar, I must have
missed you.
Don't think I did that shit intentionally, just to
diss you.
And what's this shit you said about you like to cut
your wrists too?
I say that shit just clownin' dawg, c'mon, how fucked
up is you?
You got some issues, Stan, I think you need some
counselin'
To help your ass from bouncin' off the walls when you
get down some.

And what's this shit about us meant to be together?
That type of shit'll make me not want us to meet each
other.
I really think you and your girlfriend need each
other.
Or maybe you just need to treat her better.
I hope you get to read this blog.
I just hope it reaches you in time.
Before you hurt yourself, I think that you'd be doin'
just fine
If you'd relax a little. I'm glad that I inspire you,
but Stan
Why are you so mad? Try to understand that I do want
you as a fan.
I just don't want you to do some crazy shit.
I seen this one shit on the news a couple weeks ago
that made me sick.
Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge
And had his girlfriend in the trunk and she was
pregnant with his kid
And in the car they found a tape but it didn't say who
it was to
Come to think about it...his name was...it was you.
DAMN!