Big mike

Little Mikey rolled in slim, came out Big Mike, extra thick

Twenty years in Florida State, where the roaches do the stick-up trick

Last two years in the shoe, locked down tighter than a nun’s vacation

Zero conversation, just him and his homemade tat gun creation

He was slinging K2 like candy, meth like it was Black Friday deals

Weed so fake it made the guards hallucinate and squeal

Got popped mid-tat—dude’s back said “Mawm” instead of “Mom” in bold

Big Mike shrugged, “That’s modern art, bro—worth the twenty in the cold!”

(Chorus – big dumb sing-along)

What a great day! What a gloriously stupid great day!

Out the gate, brain fried, but hey—hip-hip-hooray!

Panic attack slammed him like a shakedown with no warning

But Big Mike bounced back—snack raid incoming, no mourning!

What a great day! (Burp!) What a great day!

(Verse 2)

Gate swings wide, sun blinds him like a cheap flashlight prank

Twelve hours till the bus—heart doing the electric boogaloo, rank

He starts panting harder than a chihuahua on espresso

Guards yell “Not on our watch!” and yoink him back like a used Lego

Toss him in the break room—paradise! No cuffs, no lecture

Big Mike turns full trash panda: Cheetos, Twinkies, every vending sector

He’s crunching, munching, double-fisting warm off-brand root beer

Burping the alphabet while the guards film it for next year’s smear

(Chorus)

What a great day! What a gloriously stupid great day!

Orange dust on his chin, living like a king in disarray!

Panic canceled thanks to stolen snacks and zero shame

Big Mike’s free… sort of… but we’re claiming victory anyway!

What a great day! (Crunch!) What a great day!

(Verse 3 – pure chaos)

Bus finally hauls him west to Texas, smelling like victory and Funyun breath

Stephanie hooked the crib and a job—probably lifting heavy or flirting with death

Now Big Mike’s prowling the block, fresh prison tats glowing like bad decisions

Scaring the neighbors so bad they’re updating their wills and petitions

He’s glued to Facebook at 2 a.m., thumbs faster than a prison rumor mill

Spamming every contact: “YO! Where my sitter Tracy at? Need to chill!”

Mugshot still his profile pic with a “Florida glow-up” sparkle filter

Caption: “Fresh out, DM open, bring snacks or become the next Twitter thriller!”

(Bridge – half-rapped, building silly)

From silent shoe torture to full-volume Facebook disaster

From zero friends in lockdown to “Tracy hit me back faster!”

He ate the guards’ snacks like it was his victory feast

Now he’s loose in Texas—slightly feral, but at least he’s released!

(Final Chorus – extra loud, extra dumb)

What a great day! What a hilariously messed-up great day!

Scaring Karens left and right, they’re calling the cops—okay!

Tracy, where you at? Big Mike’s blowing up your notifications

He’s free, he’s chunky, and the world’s his chaotic vacation!

What a great day! (Yee-haw-burp!) What a great day!

(Outro – fading with laughter)

Yeah… from twenty years silent to spamming like a madman on crack

Big Mike’s out here livi