I got my money and my bitches and my guns, in the club.
Repping like a G.
Then I spark up a blunt.
But I don’t smoke.
So I choke up my lungs.
Then set off all the fire alarms.
Damn, I’m a mug.
But, I’m hella-strong never wrong baby.
Black fire you liar I’m never this lazy.
I give you a taste, we race to the finish.
I wrote this lyrics in under a minute.
Just so you know that I’m in it to win it.
Cos the highlight of my day.
Is when I wank and cry.
And praise Jesus for my penis.
And be thankful I’m high.
Cos when I act big.
And say I’m gangster, I lie.
Cos with pussy, think Virgin.
But no planes in the sky.
Because woman you see, they really do scare me.
Venomous feminists that are so hairy.
All body shapes, in sizes that vary.
So I act like the don.
Cos I’m taking their cherry.
But, what you think I’m compensatin’ for?
I only see these women as babes or whores.
Man, I’m setting back equality and closing doors.
Cos this is all a game and I’m just keeping score.
And the dumber I get.
Fans be lapping it up.
Simply as shit lyrics.
Like I take that pussy and hit it.
And they can’t get enough.
I had dreams, man.
To be a credible rapper.
Now I’m plagued every day by terrible laughter.
From others in the game who know I’m cancer to the scene.
They react with anger.
Cos I’m gangster (in my dreams).
Actually, I’m more a misogynist role model with no morals as I pander to these teens.
And if rap soon dies.
I’ll know I had a hand in its defeat.
Cos I’m a parasite watching others fight.
While there’s quicksand around my feet.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m just damned beyond belief?
Note: this piece was written half to a beat and aimed squarely at certain modern rappers who think they’re God’s gift to women and treat – and rap about – them terribly. And to the nonsensical, simplistic style of rap they use that’s truly awful and has barely any skill or nuance to it. The words above are from the point of view of the character in terms of him mostly showboating, but letting cracks of what he’s really thinking show through at times.