I Don't Want To Get

There Was This One Time In Vegas When I Took Four Victoria's Secret Models And Did One Gram Off Each Of Their Bodies Within, Like, 45 Minutes. I Declared Myself King Of Vegas And Decided To Remodel My Hotel Room With My Bare Hands To Resemble King Louis Xiv's Bedroom At Versailles. Knocked Down Two Entire Walls, And Later Had Four Knuckle Surgeries. Still Wasn't As High As Rob Ford.

I'm Dealing With Fools And Trolls And Soft Targets. It's Just Strafing Runs In My Underwear Before My First Cup Of Coffee. I Don't Have Time For These Clowns.

I Kind Of Like That Romantic Image Of Being In A Rocker With My Family Gathered Around, All These Generations In One Room, Listening Intently To My Stories.

Early On, I Used To Think It Was Really Cool And Macho To Jump Out Of The Car And Tackle The Bad Guy. But Then When You See The Stunts In The Movie, You Realize It Could've Been A Lady In A Poncho.

I'm Here And I'm Ready. They're Not. Bring It.