Why Flint needs a poetry facelift.

This is Future:
http://badgals-radio.com/?page_id=385
He is a poet, and basically any time something big with poetry happens in Flint, he either headlines it or is counted as responsible for it.
Here he is running his mouth:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1WZ4sNr6Rc

Fuck Future.
Because I'm a poet from Flint, I'm automatically associated with this douchebag. Oh, he's an alright poet and everything, but he's only alright. His performances are all the same, and his favorite poem starts out with "so I'm a real good looking guy, right?"

Here is what I'm going to read at the next Lyricist Lounge he hosts, or the next open mic that has him in the vicinity.







I'm not even known
on this microphone
or anyplace.
My face
has rarely graced
the placement
of any poem that I write.
But I'm here tonight,
and the Future is in sight.
Alright?

I thought the Future in Eight Mile was you,
like the Detroit scene could reflect in your direction and not see right through.
I thought you were thought of.
I thought people knew you,
and that's what made my outrage upstage a page too thick to chew through.

"So I'm a real good-looking guy, right?"

Just kidding.
I wouldn't even want to bite.
Who would?
Its not like you're good.
In fact,
you trying to write
is like this whiteboy in the hood
acting black.
You're the only cat I know
who writes looking in the mirror,
saying "candyman, candyman!"
and hoping talent will appear.
Your set is forgettable,
because all your arm flailing
can't make the same two poems every show grow less stale.
You get those jaws flappin, twitching and making sounds
while I'm rappin, found around town,
where shit happens.
Future is scared of Flint,
and not cause its still murder capital of the nation,
but because its college town now,
and he's afraid of education.