(with apologies to MC Chris)
My rucksack doth bear me skyward;
Verily, thou mayest call me Boba of Fett.
I doth seek the blood-price of men on behalf of the Huttese Jabba,
For mine Corvette needeth payments.
Wicky, wicky, woo!
Verily, I resideth in the cold outer darkness;
A barbute obscureth mine countenance;
And whilst I receiveth bounty for blood,
Mine eyes still narroweth,
For cunctation be not within my purview.
Upon thy knees, varlet!
For those who need context:
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