[Verse 1]
Dear Slim, I wrote chu, but cha still ain't calling
I left my cell, my pager, and my home phone at the bottom
I sent two letters back in autumn, you must've not've got 'em
There probably was a problem at the post office or something
Sometimes, I scribble addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em
But, anyways, fuck it, what's been up, man? How's your daughter?
My girlfriend's pregnant too, I'm 'bout da be a father
If I have a daughter, guess what I'ma call her? I'ma name her "Bonnie"
I read about cha uncle Ronnie too, I'm sorry
I had a friend kill himself over some bitch who didn't want him
I know you probably hear this every day, but I'm your biggest fan
I even got the underground shit that chu did wit' Skam
I got a room full of your posters and your pictures, man
I like the shit you did wit' Rokus too, that shit was phat
Anyways, I hope ya get this, man, hit me back
Just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan, this is Stan

[Verse 2]
Dear Slim, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope ya have a chance
I ain't mad, I just think it's fucked up you don't answer fans
If you didn't wanna talk da me outside your concert, you didn't have to
But cha coulda signed an autograph for Matthew
That's my little brother, man, he's only six years old
We waited in the blistering cold for you for four hours, and you just said, "No"
That's pretty shitty, man, you're like his fucking idol
He wants to be just like you, man, he likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad, though I just don't like being lied to
Remember when we met in Denver?
You said if I write chu, you would write back
See, I'm just like you in a way: I never knew my father neither
He used to always cheat on my mom and beat her
I can relate to what cha saying in your songs
So when I have a shitty day, I drift away and put 'em on
'Cause I don't really got shit else, so that shit helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo wit' cha name across the chest
Sometimes, I even cut myself da see how much it bleeds
It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me
See, everything you say is real, and I respect you 'cause you tell it
My girlfriend's jealous 'cause I talk about cha 24/7
But she don't know ya like I know ya, Slim, no one does
She don't know what it was like for people like us growing up
You gotta call me, man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
Sincerely yours, truly, PS: We should be together too
[Verse 3]
Dear Mr. I'm-Too-Good-To-Call-Or-Write-My-Fans
This'll be the last package I ever send your ass
It's been six months and still no word, I don't deserve it?
I know ya got my last two letters, I wrote the addresses on 'em perfect
So this is my cassette I'm sending you, I hope ya hear it
I'm in the car right now, I'm doing ninety on the freeway
Hey, Slim, I drank a fifth of Vodka, ya dare me da drive?
Ya know the song by Phil Collins, "In The Air Of The Night"
About that guy who coulda saved that other guy from drowning
But didn't, then Phil saw it all, then at a show, he found him?
That's kinda how this is: You coulda rescued me from drowning
Now it's too late, I'm on a thousand downers now, I'm drowsy
And all I wanted was a lousy letter or a call
I hope ya know I ripped all of your pictures off the wall
I loved ya, Slim, we coulda been a 'gether, think about it
You ruined it now, I hope ya can't sleep and you dream about it
And when you dream, I hope ya can't sleep and you scream about it
I hope ya conscience eats at chu and you can't breathe without me
See, Slim—shut up, bitch, I'm tryna talk
Hey, Slim, that's my girlfriend screaming in the trunk
But I didn't slit her throat, I just tied her up, see, I ain't like you
'Cause if she suffocates, she'll suffer more, and then she'll die too
Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now
Oh, shit, I forgot, how am I supposed to send this shit out?
[Verse 4]
Dear Stan, I meant to write cha sooner, but I just been busy
You said your girlfriend's pregnant now, how far along is she?
Look, I'm really flattered you would call your daughter that
And here's an autograph for your brother, I wrote it on a Starter Cap
I'm sorry I didn't see you at the show, I must've missed you
Don't think I did that shit intentionally just to diss you
But, what's this shit you said about cha like to cut cha wrists too?
I say, "That shit just clowning, dawg, come on, how fucked up is you?"
You got some issues, Stan, I think you need some counseling
To help your ass from bouncing off the walls when you get down some
And, what's this shit about us meant da be da 'gether?
That type of shit'll make me not want us to meet each other
I really think you and your girlfriend need each other
Or maybe you just need a treat her better
I hope ya get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time
Before ya hurt cha self, I think that you'll be doing just fine
If you relax a little, I'm really glad I inspire you, but, Stan
Why are you so mad? Try da understand that I do want chu as a fan
I just don't want cha da do some crazy shit
I seen this one shit on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick
Some dude was drunk and drove his car over a bridge
Then had his girlfriend in the trunk and she was pregnant with his kid
And in the car, they found a tape, but they didn't say who it was to
Come da think about it, his name was—it was you
Damn