Why I should not write hip hop lyrics. I woke up last night with some rhymes in my head. That doesn’t happen very often, so I pulled out a pen and wrote them down. You’re welcome.
Whether I’m rocking pasta fazoola
in clampdown Ashtabula,
or earning rasta moolah
behind the vestibula,
It don’t matter. I’m takin’ you out
of school and letting the truth
unspool like a silent movie.