I wear my pants big and my shirts small and
keep hi-fi extra long plays of h.f.s.tival days in a deck
next to my loser remix ep by beck.
I'm a walking 16 bit throw back to years
when tears for fears went heads up to violator
and terminator X was tag trending up in sample
mixes and Lando still sold beers and all
anyone wanted to talk about was foil
embossed marvel comics fleers and clear slammers.
Got shades from the days when urkel used to stammer,
and baloo's only bear necessity was
a good set of spanners and a boozed out nap
to keep sky pirates at bay
and doug funny could still be had if
you did your chores the night before and got up
early Saturday. My shoe strings are as fat as
the orange lasagna cat drawn to cells
and when my cellphone rings it's
the god damn muppet babies theme.
I hum super mario world seven dash two
while I polish my louvered 280z
painted in optimus prime red
and silverstreak blue parked outside my house
tucked up next to my cutlass,
with its windows tinted darker than darkwing duck
and looking meaner than my decepticon tattoos.
I don't rock tie dye or g-unit bras,
cash millionaire chains or sagged out skinny jeans,
faux nerd glasses or nikes filled with exotic gasses,
but when you see me you'll know
where I'm from and exactly why
to this day I'm still pretty fuckin' fly.
