"Ain't Worried 'Bout Nothin'" - Miley Cyrus w French Montana [YouTube Video]

Jimmy Haas

by Jimmy Haas

Published August 13, 2013

Well, it had to happen eventually didn't it? Here it is. The debut of Miley Cyrus' first official rap verse. The video shows Cyrus alongside French Montana as they listen to her verse on his song, "Ain't Worried 'Bout Nothin'" in a recording studio. The audio is a bit fuzzy and it's hard to hear everything clearly, but what is clear is that Cyrus' lyrical prowess is nothing to be doubted.

Upon hearing the former Disney starlet's opening lines, "On the day I drop my video/I got three fit girls in my video," all other lyricists immediately retired, knowing that their work would never compare to such genius.

When she used "Versace" three times in one line, books everywhere were thrown in the streets and burned. People would no longer need those outdated relics, as the only words worth reading had now been given to them.

When she finally rhymed "French Montana" with "Hannah Montana," the sun imploded, casting the Earth into a perpetual dark winter.

When the full, clear version of the verse is given to us, we should be wary of treating it with anything but the utmost respect. For it is clear that if read aloud, surely the Endtimes will be upon us. We now know what Yeats was writing about, so read his words, and contemplate what lies ahead for us. Because this is clearly all going to get much, much worse.

The Second Coming, by W.B. Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Say goodbye to your loved ones and hold them close. God help us all.

Via: The Smoking Section

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