JV Gone

You’d get kicked off the team before you laced your shoes,

Walking back to the locker room holding all the L’s and blues.

You’re a practice dummy getting beaten up in the paint,

Acting like a baller when you clearly know you ain't.

Unlace the Jordans, take the wristbands off your arm,

You couldn't score a point if the defense bought the farm.

You’re the water boy’s assistant, carrying the towels and the cup,

Every time you touch the ball, the whole damn arena groans.

So pack up your locker, turn in your fake-ass gear,

You’re a straight-up benchwarmer of the whole damn year.

Don't flash that ring, you didn't win a single game

Get the hell off the court before I put you to absolute shame