Man I’m really starting to smell this same pattern a mile fucking away and it’s getting dumbfuckingly ridiculous! Mikey, you’ve truly lost it buddy and I gotta say, I’m disappointed.
I expected better.
But then again, I expected worse.
It’s like my fucking ex…bitch was fucking psychotic and that reminded me of you. Bitch always said the same fucking things, filled with fucking promises…but in the end, it was just a fucking facade. You, Mike, are the fucking facade. You’re like if there was a reboot of Now you See Me, you’re the fucking shitty version of it. You just don’t fucking make it. Maybe it’s because you see the ending a mile away, it just isn’t fucking fun.
It’s predictable like the fucking orange juice stock in Trading Places. You’re that orange juice, Mike. And it’s fucking terrible. You have to control the game because you’re insecure if you don’t. You’re like the fucking song that never ends…and it’s a bad fucking song that people want to beat it the fuck out of their heads. That’s what your promos have turned into, Mike. It’s the same rendition of the same beat down talking point and I can’t believe it’s lasted you as long as it did. But you use it because you think it will be useful to you. You’re a fucking tool and it’s pathetic.
I wanted a serious Mike, a different Mike. But I guess we’ll always get the same one because you can’t sell vanilla ice cream. You ARE the vanilla ice cream, Mike, and it’s fucking BLAND! Vanilla Milla is what I’m going to call you now. So vanilla you make every single white fucking Irish man look tan! I’m not going to show up at Refueled to meet your expectations because the truth of the matter is my expectations are to make you bleed. I’m going to show everyone that a supposed god can fucking bleed and it’s going to be so bad I’m going to make you bleed like a green blooded fucking vulcan.
I’ve waited literal YEARS to get you in a straight up fight and I’m going to take the fight right to your doorstep. I’m glad there’s not going to be anywhere to run cause I’m going to use that cage to teach you what happens when you keep beating a wounded fucking animal. I’m going to go all super saiyan on your vanilla ass it won’t be funny. We’re fucking past the point of funny. This isn’t going to be a bad fucking comedy routine because it’s going to be as serious as it comes. I’m going to fuck you up so bad that going back and forth in circles using that cold hard steel over and over is going to make walking in Lord of the Rings fucking iconic.
If there is one thing I’ve learned about Vanilla Mike Best is that you are your own worst enemy. I’m going to use all the tools at my disposal so much it makes the NSA in Enemy of the State look like a fucking joke. But the joke is going to be on you, Mike. I’m going to put that deathmatch of yours at Rumble at the Rock in jeopardy and hurt you so fucking bad that all the Minister has to do is blink that red eye of his to put you down and out to pasture for good. You’re a broken fucking record, Mike, and I’m going to turn those weak ass words of yours into cheap fucking coleslaw from KFC and use your blood as the new fucking ingredient!
I thought I could be impressed by you, Mike, but you’re just the high school bully who had to steal other people’s lunch money because his own fucking mother was too poor to take care of your worthless fucking ass. Worse than a jew named Kyle and poorer than a kid named Kenny.
This fight between us goes beyond personal and I’m going to rock your world up so fucking bad that Lee is going to have to completely rebook the main event of Rumble at the Rock because his golden son couldn’t get his very last job in HOW finished. It’s no spoiler that you’re going to fucking die at Rumble at the Rock but you’ll be dead long before that when I get fucking finished with you.
Call it whatever you want but call the timestamp as you see it.
11:59:59. Next second is your death.