I can’t tell which is bigger, your ego or your belly,

‘Bout to burp up a Band-Aid, like you the motherfucker that ate Nelly.

Starin’ at me, like all you see is a chicken wing or some meatloaf,

But I got you eatin’ a WHOLE bunch of crow, call it ‘Murder’, She Wrote.

I freestyle rap in my car a lot. On the way to improv practice or shows or just when I’m in a good mood. It keeps my mind working really hard, and I think, over time, it makes me appreciate the lyricism of rap a whole lot more. It’s also just crazy fun and really, really stupid.

I might start posting up lines I’m actually happy with. I may neglect this like so many other things (read: kids I’ve fathered) in my life. Either way, in possibly the worst medium to present this to you, I Present:

Rap Lines I Come Up With In My Car (Volume 1)

You’re on some b-boy shit, like you’d rather be dancin’,

So let me lay down some cardboard and put on some Hanson.

You take one listen and be like, “MMMBop, that’s my JAM, son!”

Meanwhile I’m in the back room, busy with your girlfriend,

Got that steamy shit poppin’ off, like, “Whew! Clams are done!”

See I’m the king of the sink, I bring grimes to my rhymes,

You could ‘watch’ me all day, I still wouldn’t give you the time.

You even TRYIN’ to rap on my stage is considered a crime,

Where you’re only one wifebeater away from being the lead singer of Sublime.

Someone hire me to ghostwrite rap jokes for them. Wiz Khalifa, I’m looking at you.