The White Boy Rap

Struttin' down the street like my name is Shaq,

wearin' thick SPF 'cause melanoma is whack!

Just like Snoop, I keep the haters hushed,

'cause I got lotsa ice--you want cubes or crushed?

I live in the suburbs, I'm a dedicated Mormon,

and my grill is real baller 'cause it's made by George Foreman.

I'm 100% thug, y'all can't criticize crap,

so sit your ass down, it's the white boy rap!

(Chorus)

I'm a white boy, yo, my rap is tight.

I can't say ni**er, but that's alright.

The colour of my skin does not mean shit,

just look at Eminem and... well, I guess that's it.

I'm a white boy, yo, don't test me, son,

or I'll bust a cap with my paintball gun.

I'll fuck you up now, but we do have to hurry--

if I'm out past eleven, my mom starts to worry.

Escalade, Rolls Royce? That shit is not for me;

I got a '93 Hyundai to get from A to B.

That's what I roll in, yeah, I do what it takes--

it's got high crash test ratings and anti-lock brakes.

It's a pimp mobile, bitch, check out my rhyme,

it goes from 0-60 in a long fuckin' time.

No spinners, no bass--I'm not much of a boaster,

'cause the only chrome I got is on my motherfuckin' toaster!

(Chorus)

I tell all the ladies to give me a call,

but I can't get no bitches, 'cause my dick's kinda small.

Honey, this trust fund baby'll make you feel alive--

I'll be rollin' in mad dough when I turn twenty five!

I may not be ripped like 50 and the rest,

but "GANGSTA 4 LIFE" is tattooed on my chest.

So gimme me some love girl, don't make me say please,

I wanna fuck somethin' other than warm cottage cheese.

(Chorus)