Hi everybody, welcome to Vanderpump Rules party, I'm Holly Borkes.

Hi, my name is Randall.

Randall?

And my back is a big football.

I like to look for models on the ground, give them a heart in exchange for a slam.

I might promise a Range Rover or some Gucci slides, but when it comes to paying the bill, I run off and hide.

It seems like any time I give a woman some work, she comes back and says that I was a jerk.

And all she really has to do is give me a little twerk and I'll give her the Randall treatment with all the perks.

I like to hire old man, pass their prime and hire writers, but not pay them a dime.

I bought my credit and my claim to fame, but really, my work is quite lame.

I dress people that I'll sue, but my NDAs are really just a pile of poo.

I like to pretend I'm a big baller, but really, I owe a guy named half a dollar.

A dude named Fofty, who goes by 50 cents.

Now my wallet has a big dent.

He told me money by Monday, a million dollars, I gotta pay.

I begged and pleaded and cried.

Please, Fofty, my hands are tied, but he knew all along that I lied and just took 50 along for a ride.

I got it together and robbed Peter to pay Paul, but then kept scrolling to find a new doll.

I used WhatsApp to secretly text and hire them money and then tell them to sex.

Is she declined? I'd simply say next.

And I did my girlfriend and lied to my wife messing up everyone's life.

Now I got no one to shim my back while a lot of thrice and got a brand new rack.

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