I hate you and all your self proclaimed comments that you know how to take care of me and such shit.

If I didn't even ask you to get me those stuff, would you? Maybe never.
And even if I did ask, how many bullets must you shoot back at me?

I'm getting damn sick of you and all your priorities.

Go ahead and have all the fun in your world with your young punk friends who think nuts about their own future.

I look forward to seeing you landing yourself into the next shit hole and I'll be the one laughing my head off seeing you sink into the quicksand with NO ONE offering you a rope.

You've lost me. You did it. I hate you now.

Congratulations.