Bad, Bad, Bad

Ahem What's up what up (etc...) Yo Hello, I'm Heems I'm at least a compelling dude Telling you my hellish views Of life as a Telugu (zombie person) (?) Punjabi writer (? person) asked me what my hobby is I ain't have an answer, kicking it probably (I kick it) I'm whack Y'all whack We friends, we all whack Shouts to Small Black All y'all could fall back Can lick my ball sack It's all facts On all wax All tracks Aw snap Linus mad cause I rolled a spliff with (?) (?) about Tito's Tacos Shredding on my microphone around the country Has been a great experience, very humbling Mumbling one thing The fun thing is something I have enjoyed doing But It's tiring jumping Up and down for people who praise me like one king If I wasn't rapping I wouldn't be pumping Gas, I would be sipping on a flask, bumbling Drunken, chumming it up with you pumpkins Wondering, why you feel entitled to be fronting Latkes and Matzo for the posse, it's nothing In other words, I got bread I Googled Latke, turned out it's not bread Not a pot head, or a dot head I sip chai tea, do tai chi To calm my nerves Make this in New York, but they bump it in the suburbs Four words: Shout out to the nerds That buy our records The great people in the herds That buy our records Yo, cop our record If you wear a turban you can't be a cop, but you can shoot one I want to make a movie, but I could never afford the things you need to shoot one I'm hot even when I'm not, friend My friend, you don't call me, my friend I call you, "my friend," my friend They let us in in '65 Want our labor, not our lives Not our kids, not our wives Lock us up when we sport knives If you a turban you can't be a cop, but you can shoot one Biddies, I scoop one With finesse, like Grey Poupon Shoop-a-doop, on a futon Friction is physics, like Nuetron Alec on the Gchat taking about the Unabomber Real expensive Reed talking about DHARMA, or Criminal Minds I got a criminal mind Swimming with dimes I'm betting online They sweating the vibe I ain't letting what's mine go I get it with knives But they, getting in line To be, getting what's mine Heems Make it pop off like Peter with the sermon Like, eric I'm herman I'm cherished Watching Cheaters and some Jeter, that's Yankees and Derek My merits, y'all perish I'm getting, cheddar and bettin' on André Breton Mary Lou Retton sweatin' the cake I'm gettin' Illuminati vettin', he'll join 'em if they let him Probably be a trick, and they'll boil him If they get him Never liked rapping, but decided I'd try harder Then I shot the cover of Spin, and tried Prada So, went from, "Why bother?" to, "Fuck it, yo I'll holla." For the mighty dolla Impalas Pop bottles