She quit Twitter to write on papyrus/Her father is Billy Ray Cyrus/If I gave a damn, then I probably couldn’t stand her/In real life or as Hannah Montana
Archive for hip-hop
Bad rap in an ad for college/makes it sound like you won’t get knowledge/but come to find out, the real menace/is that this guy’s famous for playing table tennis.
“Perfect Strangers” was my favorite sitcom/I’d watch every Friday with my sister and mom/when “Family Matters” got Urkel, it was a hit/and I stayed in on weekends for a bit.
You know how mad I’d be/if I was Prince Markie Dee?/Looking at this ad of a phonie/doing an impression of my dead homie?
Get yourself a shirt like Parker Lewis/and a friend in some red pants, now do this/Making drinks is easy, no trouble/just add some crap and a few bubbles.
He’s on point, like a church steeple/first he kisses a green lady, now he raps with black people/he’s a sci-fi hero, so you know he’s all that/his mom calls him “William” but we call him “The Shat.”
You can’t forget how to rap, it’s like/learning how to ride a bike/even if you don’t do it for a good while/you can still kick it with ill style.
Nerd’s the word/he’s ahead of the herd/because if he dropped these rhymes/in 2009/he’d get thrown in the crapper/for being a hipster rapper.
You’re welcome, thanks/Yeah, that’s Carlton Banks/but it feels shocking/to see him young, popping and locking.