[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.