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Once again, it's time for the FNGT!

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Deep in the ghetto, like the one in your town, there lived a young niglet, skin, eyes, hair - all shit brown.
Way down 45th St, in the land of bix noods, lay the small hood of Nigton, residents ugly and crude.
Ask any nigger and they'll have you believe: "Aint no place like Nigton, Everywhere takes EBT".
Every door always locked, and the windows have bars, and the niggers of Nigton shooting guns from their cars.

MLK Day was fine, First of the month even better. They would wait by the mailbox for that government cheddar.
But every nig knew, from their Nikes to their cornrows, Christmas day was the best time of year in this ghetto.

Yes, every nigger in Nigton liked Christmas a bunch. They could go to down to church, and enjoy a free lunch.

But The Negrinch hated Christmas, he was filled with resentment. Resentment for the White kids, who always got presents.
Maybe it was his crip walk, he couldn't get it quite right. It could be that his knock-off Reeboks were too tight.
But any white person could see his greatest flaw, was perhaps that his brain was two sizes too small.

...

Little Tyrone would wonder, with his feral chimp brain. Why did the Negrinch hate Christmas? Someone stole his gold chain?
Whatever the reason, his shoes or his brain, he sat outside on his porch, abusing weed and cocaine.

"Man fuck Christmas" he said, as he snarled and scowled. He threw his hands in the air, and the smell was most foul.
"Lemme get a dolla" he said to a fatherless child. "Ima go to da sto, get me a black and mild"

..

The Negrinch knew tomorrow all the niggers would crowd - 'round the church for the gibs, being smelly and loud.
"When dey gone I'm gon sneak in, be stealin dey shit." It would be in broad daylight, he did not care one bit.
"Ima get me a tv, radio, some new shoes" For he didn't mind prison, he had nothing to lose.

And the niggers of Nigton rushed the church for free food, and the Negrinch said "Now's my chance, muhfugga, bix nood!"
The more the Negrinch though about all the free stuff, he'd been given in life, but it wasn't enough.
Not the food stamps, or scholarships, handouts and housing. Not the things that he stole when he said "I'm just browsing"

The Negrinch put out his blunt, tucked it behind his ear. Looked over both shoulders, there were no police near.
He broke into the first house with a crowbar he stole, and he stashed it for later near a telephone pole.
He went house to house, looking for things to loot. With his gun in his waste band, in case he had to shoot

All the houses left empty. Save for stench in the air, no nigger in Nigton ever knew he was there.
He walked down the cracked sidewalk, pillowcase full of gibs. "I can't wait to get all this shit back to my crib!"
But before he could sort through it all piece by piece, he turned 'round the corner, and was shot by police.

...

♪♪You're a dumb one. Ne-grinch. You really are a coon. Intelligent as a hammer, not quite sharper than a spoon, Ne-Grinch!
You're a smelly impulsive violent dumb baboon.

You're a felon, Ne-Grinch. Your brain's an empty hole! Your head is full of cobwebs, and your skin's as black as coal, Ne-Grinch!
It's not a stretch to say you - Have no semblance of self-control!

You're a gross one, Ne-grinch. You have roaches in your house. You have all the hygiene habits of a New York City mouse, Ne-grinch!
If I saw you in my living room - I would have the whole place deloused.♪♪

It's too much. It's too crazy and dumb. I can't take it. Why am I here?

https://futurism.com/spotify-accused-promoting-ghost-artists

According to a shocking new book, Spotify has been promoting so-called "ghost artists" so it can avoid paying its piddling royalties to real artists.