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letra de offensive rap - chad neidt

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[spoken intro]
so in all these hip hop songs
i hear mcs bragging about how dope there are on the mic
so i’m gonna do the same thing
except in the most offensive way possible
let’s do this

yo, yo, i’m sick like a kid with aids
i clean house better than a pair of mexican maids
my words drop faster than old tampons fall
flowin’ more than the seed in peter north’s b-lls
(what! that’s an old school p-rn reference for all you perverts)

i spit fire they call me the arsonist
y’know i’m tearin’ it up more than a pedophlic rapist
rhyme so hard that it gives me wood
so i can fill you with more regret than planned parenthood
and then we sing it

hey i’m soppin’ wet with sk!lls
k!llin’ it like i’m poppin’ pills
so let me ride the mic like a
dyk- on a bike without a seat
hey in case you haven’t heard
i spread the spoken word
i say what i prefer without a slur
i’m more inspiring than adolf hitler (f-cked up)

[spoken]
so another part of this hip hop equation is telling a story
being genuine and sh-t
so here’s my story

i’m a cracker i’ll never grow an afro
i’m whiter than an episode of the cosby show
my name is chad it’s my white boy curse
i’m a bigger douchebag than a hooker’s purse

so puff puff pass now i’m in the zone
i’m more ill than your grandma’s retirement home
we’ll smoke so much ’til we cough and heave
and get more paralyzed than christopher reeve
(oh that’s just mean
who cares!)

hey i’m soppin’ wet with sk!lls
k!llin’ it like i’m poppin’ pills
so let me ride the mike like a
dyk- on a bike without a seat
hey in case you haven’t heard
i spread the spoken word
i say what i prefer without a slur
i’m more inspiring than adolf, you should be afraid of
everything i’m made of
time for a fake guitar solo

[vocal guitar solo]
i wish i could play that on my guitar

[spoken]
so the last part of this hip hop puzzle is repping where you’re from
see a lot of these clowns are lying
talking about how they’re from harlem or the streets of south central
that’s f-ckin’ bullsh-t man (b-tches be frontin’)

i know you wrote those lyrics from the starbucks and the target from the suburban town you grew up in texas
’cause i’m just going to be honest with you
go back to my roots (here we go)

i come from a rough neighborhood well sorta, kinda
it’s a dirty hairy place called my mom’s v-g-n-
nine months straight i was trapped and contorted
so lonely i wanted me aborted

i only saw my dad every now and again
when my mom was asleep he tried to poke his head in
no ladies in the womb so i got lovesick
but in the foetal position i could suck my own d-ck
(thank god!)

- chad neidt

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