You ain’t gotta do nothin’, Uncle Flip. You know, ain’t like I’m still eighteen years old, you know? Ain’t like I’m gonna be sitting up every night asking my mom “when’s LeBron coming home”, you know? Who needs him? Hey, he wasn’t there to teach me how to shoot my first basket, but I learned it, didn’t I? And I got pretty damn good at it, too, didn’t I, Uncle Flip?
Got through my first game without him, right? I learned how to drive, I learned how to dunk, I learned how to win without him. I had one great birthday without him; he never even sent me a damn card.
TO HELL WITH HIM!
I didn’t need him then, and I don’t need him now.
No, you know what, Uncle Flip? I’m gonna get through my career without him, I’m gonna get a great All-Star appearance without him, I’m gonna win me a beautiful MVP trophy, and I’m-a have me a whole bunch of rings. I’ll be a better baller than he EVER was. And I sure as hell don’t need him for that, ’cause there ain’t a DAMN thing he can ever teach me about how to ball my ass off!
How come he don’t want me, man?