I'm a rapper. Holla.

[ffffffffff]

i'm the other white meat
another white emcee smotherin' a beat
and runnin' on empty
but i don't need no overpriced gasoline
i fill up my tank with premium jim beam on ice
and the gleam in my eyes makes me seem real nice
but i'll take out your whole team like pork fried rice
so grab some chopsticks and stop this obnoxious hip hop shit
you made it to the top with

if it's just the money you're worried about
you can always go home and get yourself a paper route
i distribute my rhymes like the new york times
so call up and subscribe to the wisdom i provide

i don't need you on my side i'd rather have you in front of me
i'm like a bumble bee trying to find out where the honey be
but now i'm in deep like i'm goin' on some undersea adventure
the stench you're omitting is offensive i'm getting apprehensive
about all of these senseless
rappers and musicians makin' more cash than physicians
i'm a man on a mission
understand my position
i can't stand what you listen to
and i'm just wishin' you could open up your ears and hear what i hear
'cause it's incredibly clear your shit's not comin' near what i'm spittin'
it's gettin' hard to ignore
all of these consumer whores buyin' out the record stores
of their nelly and their fiddy what they're sellin' you is shitty
bein' from the inner city doesn't make their lyrics witty
i'm like here kitty kitty
come and drink all of your cream
i'll be at the bar with another shot of beam