backpacker's sermon from mount jansport

all right

final take. way too late in the evening to be rapping

but

whatever

rappers flex their abs

they're all fit and lean

i'm nineteen

and fine dining means a kid cuisine

you're on a train of thought

i'm in a limousine

that's properly outfitted for my primary thinking machine

should i ever become a sell-out

wrap my brain in polypropylene

in lieu of a government bailout

i play wayne's no ceilings

i'm penning verses with a nondescript

nom de plume

rappers quick to send reminders they're no that fond of whom

ever

the bell tolls for

let's compare talents by whoever sold more

four score

or rather four square

i got a mustache

but see i'm low on chest hairs

my sweater collection is entirely threadbare

these curls form a rather ornate head wear

i need a garden

and a good library

every night i give thanks to the benevolence of the rhyme fairy

i'm will hunting at mit

with a mop in hand

the whetherman's union is a very angry marching band

someone told me i was black as a saltine

cause i listen to rage against the machine

to which i had no rebuttal

my fight history's full of embarrassing scuffles

i used to want to be the harry potter of this rap shit

but scary daughters don't like to talk when i'm flaccid

my mind is a laser with the power of a toaster oven

i'm a nerd

but i didn't identify with mclovin'

and much to my chagrin

my father taught me to always lend a hand to my brethren

which would be a lot easier if i was a hindu deity

reminder to self

stop and smell the peonys

and pay for any late charges on overdue dvd's

these are good samaritan raps

rappers with a stuffy nose pop claritin caps

while i write by candlelight that drips paraffin wax

narrating the hapsis

my endorphin's wither and lax

i had a dream i once gave a seraphim daps

these musicians could brush up on their medieval lore

i grip this microphone like it was an ethereal sword

i don't give a gobbley gook about song structure

i got lyrics to make a tarot card readers palms rupture

i rap in the shower

that'll forever be my first gig

don't talk to me when i'm busy reading pirsig

i don't have a private jet

i fly southwest

i rewrite a rhyme for hours until it sounds best

all right

here we go with a little freestyling

how 'bout that yo

is this thing on

can you hear me

can you see me?

when it comes to these flows

my man's i'm the great houdini

i'm floating above you

narrating things with my mind

and all you other dudes can do is rhyme

really i'm a mime

really i'm in a box

really i ate the key

and there was never a lock

so whatever that might mean

as you can see i

conjure these raps from out of a dream

i'm something like a necromancer

all you other dudes are nancy prancers

you have hoofed feet and cloved toes

and you don't rap

you merely flow

which is something very easy that hose can do

not hoes can do

but like a garden hose can do

my dude

get your mind out of the gutter

um yes

and when i have toast i put jam on it

never butter

um yo

i haven't eaten meat for like a year and a half

and sometimes i like to sit and laugh

at less refined and educated people

because i'm snobby

and it makes me feel like

they'll never be my equal

because i do things like that to boost my twitter stats

uh yea

you should follow me

and that way klout will see

and send me nice things in the mail

all this stuff is fake

and i would really like to delete my internet persona

but i'm not gonna