KEOKI - KILL THE D.J.

What the fuck, Keoki? Yeah, this is D.J. here. Got a copy of your new album, Kill The D.J. I've never even met you, Keoki! Why the hate? Pfft. I don't care-- fuck you, man!
And I'm sorry about the F-bombs, loyal tastes like chicken readers. I know how sensitive you are, but this is some harsh, harsh shit here, and I'm not just going to stand by and take it, okay? I'm not! D.J. Kirkbride, the lovable, pushover scamp isn't gonna let muhfuckers walk all over him anymore! You make your shitty, glow sticky, ravey, need-Ecstasy-to-fucking-enjoy-it shit-ass music, Keoki, and I didn't say word one! You could do whatever you wanted. I'd no beef with you,.. until now.
You want to talk shit about me behind my back? What? You thought I'd never hear of this CD? Because I have good taste in music and don't like dorky, pointless, derivative rehash mixes of already shitty songs by the likes of Kiss and Rod Fucking Stewart? Rod Stewart, man! What the hell?
And, you know, I wouldn't have heard about this travesty, and you would've gotten away with it, were it not for a little Asian angel of rage (whose name sounds an awful hell of a lot like "Insane Wayne Chinsang") thinking I deserved to know. Despite the fact that he makes fun of everything dear to me without any regard whatsoever to my irrational and childish feelings (as they've been lovingly described to me lately), he obviously thought I deserved to know that some lil' dork with a big record collection and some turntables has called for my death! When push comes to shove, I guess there's at least one mofo out there in this big retarded world who is looking out for yours truly.
So, what now then? I don't know. You can fucking choke on your glow stick for all I care. I mean, what? You want me dead? Come and get me, fucker. I've got a lot of pent-up aggression going on here, and I'm not above taking it out on a hack music regurgitator.
Bring it, Keoki. Bring your feeble shit.
BECAUSE KEOKI SUCKS, CHECK OUT D.J.'S SITE.
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