Revenge of tha Dabshinobi

Yo, lemme tell you 'bout JOH. Not your average Joe, yo, this cat's a shinobi, low. Dabshinobi, yeah, that's the code, lived his life on a dusty, broken road. Pushed around, kicked down, treated like dirt, every single day, a constant, fuckin' hurt. They called him "JOH-less," laughed at his name, said he'd never amount to a goddamn thing, it's a shame. Used him for favors, then tossed him aside, like a roach in the gutter, where dreams go to die. "Fetch this, carry that, JOH, you're so weak," they'd sneer, while he just turned the other cheek. But deep inside, a fire started to burn, a rage that was brewing, a lesson they'd learn. Now JOH's back, with a vengeance, see, Got a briefcase full of dabs, grade-A, top-tier, THC. Not your grandpa's schwag, this shit's potent and pure, One hit'll send you flyin', makin' your vision blur. He's got shatter, wax, crumble, and oil, Enough to make a whole damn city recoil. Remember that bully, big-mouth, name of rikk? JOH showed up at his door, said, "What's up, boo?" Rikk laughed, said, "JOH, you still a punk?" JOH just smiled, pulled out a dab, a fat, sticky chunk. Rikk took a hit, eyes rolled back in his head, Woke up three days later, in a hospital bed.