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Fraud
A Walter’s Alter Ego Commentary
Wally, shut the fuck up and let me talk some shit
Sarcasm and criticism didn’t work, nothing affected him
He hid behind a machine to fight for him and protect him
It really is sad because no one here will ever respect him
But ya’ll know how poetry will sound when it comes out the rectum
What some could call art may turn out to be a fart that lingered
Like the guy who cheated then got all heated because he got fingered
He couldn’t come up with the words so he had the bot do all his jeering
But the AI was so far up his butt it went from fisting to puppeteering
I rather listen to Vogon poetry than these robotic soulless spills
I’ve had more fun working on excel spreadsheets paying the bills
What’s worse was that the synthetic verse sounded so algebraic
There was no taste to it because it was appsolutely formulaic
With a few keystrokes he’d get all sorts of retorts trying to claim his crown
God forbid his WIFI went down because then he wouldn’t be able to clown
He was stuntin’, frontin’ like he had the 4-1-1 on everyone to cover his tracks
And yet he had the chatbot talk smack ‘cause he didn’t know how to clap back
What was the plan man? Corner a new brand then stand there like a ham?
Smoked, spammed and damned when the scam ran bland with no demand
The sham scrammed when he tried to ram the program with a bad command
And when he tried to slam a band of poets what did it get him? Banned!
We don’t care if you use AI for art, poetry, music, work, whatever
Machines are here to stay, they’re fast and some are very clever
But don’t be fucking sneaky and deceitful because you’ll get outlawed
Duplicitous people get found out, and that’s the worst kind of fraud
Wally, back you
Wally, shut the fuck up and let me talk some shit
Sarcasm and criticism didn’t work, nothing affected him
He hid behind a machine to fight for him and protect him
It really is sad because no one here will ever respect him
But ya’ll know how poetry will sound when it comes out the rectum
What some could call art may turn out to be a fart that lingered
Like the guy who cheated then got all heated because he got fingered
He couldn’t come up with the words so he had the bot do all his jeering
But the AI was so far up his butt it went from fisting to puppeteering
I rather listen to Vogon poetry than these robotic soulless spills
I’ve had more fun working on excel spreadsheets paying the bills
What’s worse was that the synthetic verse sounded so algebraic
There was no taste to it because it was appsolutely formulaic
With a few keystrokes he’d get all sorts of retorts trying to claim his crown
God forbid his WIFI went down because then he wouldn’t be able to clown
He was stuntin’, frontin’ like he had the 4-1-1 on everyone to cover his tracks
And yet he had the chatbot talk smack ‘cause he didn’t know how to clap back
What was the plan man? Corner a new brand then stand there like a ham?
Smoked, spammed and damned when the scam ran bland with no demand
The sham scrammed when he tried to ram the program with a bad command
And when he tried to slam a band of poets what did it get him? Banned!
We don’t care if you use AI for art, poetry, music, work, whatever
Machines are here to stay, they’re fast and some are very clever
But don’t be fucking sneaky and deceitful because you’ll get outlawed
Duplicitous people get found out, and that’s the worst kind of fraud
Wally, back you
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