A Warning Letter from Michael Jackson to Justin Bieber

So you're me now, huh? You golden white boy with a jazz saxophone for a voice
that could only be drowned out by your loud sneakers and your matching fitted caps
They named you heir apparent to the throne

Had the nerve to wear that leather jacket at the Grammy's without my permission
I nearly treated it as if it were a terrorist act against the crown
But I know puppets when I see them, I only wonder who controls your strings
Is it the same person who perfectly coiffed your hair, who dipped you face first
into a pool of beautiful, got you rockin' your swag as if you invented the shit
But I remember being there, a wide-eyed boy, with an even wider nose
Just happy being doped, but then too doped to happy

Justin.

In Hollywood, they put their stars into the ground for a reason
But you don't have the courage to be a beautiful corpse
Your chest can't handle the weight of this kind of tombstone
I wonder, how much you even know of black face minstrelsy
Does Bert Williams haunt your dreams?
Who gave you them educated feets, taught you to smile and sing pretty
like good "nigger folk" without the black make up

Sometimes you are the saddest clown I've ever witnessed
But I know you're not to blame, they are
They do this to us
I bet you thought your face would always get good gas mileage
And here, you wonder why I try to update my own motto to something more streamline,
more efficient, plastic surgery makes picture perfect
Silly boy, you ain't different, hell, you ain't even good enough to be bad


I know something that only a handful of us know
That on some nights, you cry yourself to sleep asking,
"When the fuck did my childhood go"
The crown is too heavy for your head
Boy, you ain't old enough to be king
Weird, how we make sex icons out of child stars figuring,
If we can fuck them earlier, we can fuck them longer

We both know Britney ain't up and go crazy for nothing
She didn't just "flip her lid"
She tried. To shave. Her tiara off.
Royalty, ain't all it's cracked up to be
Justin, they will make a mummy out of you

So that even in death, someone will prop you up
Attach the strings, make you smile pretty

So that your funeral will be your greatest concert

Ever.