The Man with the Text

The man with the text.

He's the man with the text.

He's got the text.

He's got text.

See that thing he's carrying
under his arm? Hi-tech plastic?

That's his text.

Don't step to
the man with the text.

Stand back.

Do you know how quickly
he could text you?

Do you realize what that text
could do to the human body?

I didn't think so.

We're not talking some little
kid built like a wire terrier
texting his sniff buddies.

Some kid texting pussy.

That man's got text.

Looking at this logically,
I mean, I don't care what you think
about the man himself.

Pretend he's a fucking snail
inside a shell,

I mean like what's it called?

fuckin' escargot?

Just think about that text.

What he had to do to get it.

Trust me: you don't even wanna know.

Probably he don't even wanna know.

But he has to.

He has to know.

He has to sleep with it at night.

Because he's the man.

The man with the text.

Just think about that.

That's all I'm sayin.