A message to all youze trick-ass Toronto mothafuckas: back off my tip biatch!

Yo niggaz. A while ago I wrapped up a demo tape of my dopest rhymes and sent them off to some record studioz. There aint no record studioz in Saskatchewan so Iz sent them off to a few in Toronto, Ontario. After I sent them off I aint heard nuttin fo a long time. So finally I called them up and asked them what the deal was with my demos. They allz be saying the same thing - they likes my rhymes but they don't think my sound polished enough yet. Polished enough? Yo studio mothafuckas - iz be record my demo tapes in a goddamn gopher hole. Of course it aint gonna be polished. I gotz to worry about the farmer findin out that iz jackin his electricity, the goddamn cows mooing, people interrupting me etc. What the fuck is up with theze punk-ass cracker Toronto mothafuckas? If I wasn't some broke-ass nigga gangsta rapper from the praries fo sure they be signing me already. It's goddamn discriminalization. Goddamn martini sippin Ontario cracker fools. Maybe I should head up to Ontario and sort them out just like this:

That's right Toronto mothafuckas. You keep fuckin with DJ Stubblejumper and one day you gonna be walkin down Yonge Street and lookz up and you seez me putting the A to the mothafuckin K. Biatch!