T'was the night after the big game, And all through the house, 
          Not a Young Gun was stirring, Not even this louse. 
          
          Mr. Young Gun and his Personal Valet, were snug in their bed, 
          While visions of a victory over the Parts, danced in Ronnie's head. 
            
          The Armani stockings were hung (from the hand carved, Italian designer, marble) fireplace with care, 
          With the hopes that the fantasy football gods would soon be there. 
          
          A victory against the Part's would make his life complete, 
          Another notch on the wall in the media room, he thought that would be neat! 
          
          But much to his dismay, what did he find? 
          The mighty Privates Part's, had just kicked his behind - bitch!!! 
          
          The Young Gun Gucci uniforms laid on the ground in shreads! 
          Dilusions of victory, had gone to their head's. 
          
          This Punk Ass upstart thought he was hot, 
          The Part's got in his face, his season's now shot !!!!