A twenty-year-old white girl asked
Why mice seek out a trap.
Then she smiled and sang along
To ALL the gangster rap!
Tag Archives: Rap
Canadian Rap
What’s up dawg?
We about to get real!
In my crib we consider
How other folks feel,
Like when a brother asks
“Yo, where da bathroom be?”
You say “The end of the hall,”
And hope they have a good pee.
If your mixtape is flames
But it’s disturbin’ the neighbors
You realize that lack of sleep
Impacts professional labors,
So you crank it from eleven
Back to a suitable volum’
So when yo neighbors see the cops
They ain’t intendin’ to call ’em.
We don’t judge a playa’s major,
Whether fine arts or stem.
We be diggin’ respect
For he/him/she/her/they/them.
We know if a brotha’s vegan
Or wants his food gluten free,
And if you bringin’ people drinks
Why not some decaf tea?
If you come an’ have a holla
In the ‘burbs with me,
I be more apt to thank you kindly
If you RSVP.
You may think we freakin’ tame
Because our hide’s pretty white,
But a party ain’t be rockin’
If da guests ain’t polite!
Filed under Poems
When The Subtitles Don’t Match The Singer
Sometimes I wonder
If deaf people have to censor rap videos
Because someone accidentally curses in sign language.
Filed under Poems
Songs of the American South
Black Lyrics
Sometimes I ponder
That yonder fonder rapper,
That slapper of the fapper
Who use the public crapper
Just writes, night after nights,
Under fluorescent lights
Whatever rhymes, even if that means
He writes more wrongs than rights
‘Cause the whites, they delight
In da light skin they got,
They ain’t thought how we fought
‘Cause our families were caught
And sold in days of old for a handful of gold.
Dig it?
——————————————————–
White Lyrics
Hey baby, I’m thinkin’
That since we’ve been drinkin’
And we got us a truck
Let’s roll up a joint
And drive to make-out point
And shoot us a deer or a duck!
Why I Don’t Rap
My glass chicken
Laid a Faberge egg.
Last night you laid your hand.
My cow produces
Golden milk.
My bull excretes your band.
Filed under Poems
A Review of “Moby Dick,” by T Pain
Let me tell you a story
All about how
My boat got capsized
Upside down.
Was this big f’n whale
Cooked up in a meth lab.
He’s white as a cracker
Like my brotha’, Ahab.
Now my bro chased the whale
Through like 800 pages
Cross a buttload o’ seas
And all through the ages.
So if you’re a reader
You know shit just got real
When you turn to page one:
“Call me Ishmael.”
Filed under Poems
Steal From The Naughty, Give To His Homies
If Santa were a rapper,
He’d also be a pirate.
Here’s the evidence for how I know:
Rappers greet each other
By saying “yo” most often,
So rapper/pirate Santa’d say “yo ho ho!”
Filed under Poems
