I’ve got a riddle, what’s little and talks big
With midget arms and creamy white filling in the middle
That’ll do anything to throw dirt on my name
If it means walking the whole Mediterranean
Is he an Albanian, Armenian, Iranian, Tasmanian
No it’s Dave, Raymond and oh, Osorio
So sorry whoa, but that was a long time ago
When I was just Joe Shmo, rapping in Joe Blow’s basement
I apologized fo’ it before, so
Either accept it or you don’t
And let’s move on, if I ain’t shown that I’ve grown
Then get the bone, keep licking these nuts
You industry mutts, keep walking around sniffing each other’s butts
Or should I say asses?
What would be the more politically correct term to use for the masses?
The question I ask is
How can I explain this?
How can I swing this, in English language?
If I switch to slang and turn mayn to mayn
Do I do it in vain, or simply to entertain?
Am I being real or am I being fake
Am I just a fraud or am I truly genuine
Or am I caught up in this hot water
Woady on my daughter I told you I love this culture
Don’t let em insult ya, I’ma tell you one more ‘gain
This is the environment that I was brought up ‘in
But every now and ‘then, I use my ‘pen
To get rid of some frustration, or should I say shon
Is it just another one of my subliminal ways of racism?
Your face is numb, you’re stunned you look as cold
Like that of a man who’s 70 some years old
And it only gets colder, which is why I understand
I can’t be mad at a forty four year old fan
With a chip on his shoulder
Who only owns half of a magazine, and the only way to have it seen
Is to put me on the front of it again
Only thing that makes him grin, is to see me frown
Papa can’t stand me, papa needs to take his medication and sit the [?] down
In his new chair that goes round and round
That he bought from new money in his bank account
That I get him every issue when the thang comes out
Sit back and let his puffy clown hair come out
And let his black side arm wrestle his white side
Yell apartheid loud enough that he might slide
He might find someone dumb enough who might ride
But ain’t nobody over here buying two white guys
Disguised as pro-black there’s no slack for a Hartford college grad
In a fitted hat and a hunch back, standing by the clearance coat rack
In some old slacks and some RSO throwbacks, yeah