[Verse 1: Ben Carey]
Born in eighty-seven,
To my mama now in heaven.
Picked up the pen at five,
And took it for a test-drive.
Always kept it handy,
In my pocket like candy.
[Verse 2: Ben Carey]
At twelve I wrote my first serious work,
And man, it was serious work.
But it was fun too,
Maybe something that I could do,
With my life, when I'm older,
So I kept my stories in a folder.
[Verse 3: Ben Carey]
Now I'm older and wiser,
Ideas gushing like a geyser.
And I'm writing like crazy,
As prolific as Jay-Z,
But there's so many haters,
Hating on us creators.
[Verse 4: Ben Carey]
Tell ‘em I want to be a writer,
And they say, ‘Ah, don't you have to be brighter?'
Their reaction is always the same,
You've got talent, but it's a tough game,
But I ain't caught up on that fame,
Just want that critical acclaim.
[Verse 5: Ben Carey]
I ain't got time for haters,
Seeya later, alligators.
Ain't got time for people that doubt me,
Just want you to read my about me,
I just want to write prose like the pros,
And buy clothes for my bros.
[Verse 6: Ben Carey]
Do what you love, that's what they say,
That's what I'm gon' do, don't care about pay.
Rather be a starving writer,
Than stuck in an office, behind a divider.
I dunno whether I'll make it,
But Imma give it my best shot, don't mistake it.
Give it my best; don't dismiss it,
And don't Blink or you might miss it.