"Hello Brett Michael, as you already know my name's Satan and I'm reading you're application and I like what I'm seeing but let's just start this interview by telling me how you feel"
"Well, my real friends don't know how to look at me, say that I've been acting kind of strange, telling beautiful bitches to step their game up, cause they ain't in my target range. I'm wandering the streets alone, I'm tryna find my damn self. At this rate I swear to God Ill sell my fucking soul if it means I'll get that damn wealth. Money, bitches, power, fuck it, make it rain (ella, ella, ay, ay, ay), N' to all you artists they the same, but to me it means getting momma up out the hood, switch that cool-aid over to champange, open up the fridge, that bitch fully loaded, yeah, and you know the maserati too. I let her lick the lollipop, whip candy coated, lake side log cabin dripping paint too. What would you do if your brother stuck repeating tenth grade, mom addicted to the white, kkk, like the powder, not the real shit, half my family probably deal shit, if you hungry why the fuck wouldn't you steal shit, I been living and learning, it's a cold world so to stay warm I make sure that my soul's burning (that can be arranged), but that's how I'm feeling anyways, drink until I fucking blackout on my Henny ways. People using petty ways to make advances, in the moonlight me and Satan sharing dances, funny how it's feeling like he's leading cause the futune and the fame just give me something to believe in and I'm running out of time cause he cut me and I'm bleeding and I'm needing my friends and family to come support cause the clock is fucking running and this country is my court, fuck the game without protection, Spawn of Satan don't abort, I know some shit that could make you shit yourself, what people really do to get the wealth, but I swore I'd never tell a soul (awh, come on now) I swore I'd never sell me soul (hahaha) I love my Mom but I had dreams of shooting her, looking up for answers and only heard Lucifer." "Brett Michael let your story be told, hand over that precious soul of yours and I promise you gold, boy, more gold than you could ever imagine, beautful bitches, the best drugs you've ever seen, all yours, just sign right here, in blood, in lust, in passion for power, in greed." "I mean I guess."
