[Verse 1] I sell heroin to Ellen DeGeneres's kids and breathe into 'em Drivin' under the influence, hide weed in the transmission fluid So when they pull over my shit I'm an innocent victim If I try to buck, a cop'll cling to my tennis shoe *beat boxes* My name is D. Swizzy I keep busy, paraplegics with feet missing Call me sensational (back is the incredible!) But ten perecnt of my rhymes is illegible It's Danny Swain on the internet Posing in the nude in your sister's bed What's he doing on the cover of Vanity Sausage Granted, we saw such a thing coming for years Damn it he lost, but here's A way to spin it for PR's sake: Modify his EPK, say he's a J-E-R-K with no regard Take a dated headshot Photoshop some tattered tears Now have him kissin' Baby: +Cash Money+ out the stratosphere Shit, it worked for Weezy Believe me when I tell you D. Sweezy do it for TV Slip a Prilozac to Kyla Pratt Make Mya guzzle Dimetapp While Danny waxes philosophical You hear that? I'm still unstoppable
[Verse 2] I've got that Boutros Boutros-Ghali Dalai Lama flow Introduced Marsupilami's mommy to the dollar store And spoiled the broad *whistles* Spare the child, spoil the rod? They got it twisted Optimisitic never 'cause my album sales are non-existent I got a sickness and it's called I'ma-Fuck-You-Up-itis Climb in the truck with Don Imus And cruise the cul-de-sacs DVD up in the dash, we watching "When Seagulls Attack" I asked him where the hoes is at He said "don't bring that bullshit back" Goddammit Donnie, lighten up with your fat racist ass More tasteless than Cissy Spacek wearing a Jason mask Waitin' in my basement taped and gagged, in an apron Gas oven at four hundred degrees, and someone lights a match I'm 'bout to blow up My competition is bogus These wack rappers can go suck a dick, the kid is focused Niggas fiend for my beats I step on stages, girls scream like I'm Keith Fanfare was bigger than Vivica Fox Standing bare on the front of Vanity Fair Stricken with chicken pox You corny niggas can kick a rock, go rap with Sisqo You talkin' greasy, you must've taken a bath in Crisco D. Swain is back, manic at the disco! Uh
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Copy to Clipboard: [Verse 1] I sell heroin to Ellen DeGeneres's kids and breathe into 'em Drivin' under the influence, hide weed in the transmission fluid So when they pull over my shit I'm an innocent victim If I try to buck, a cop'll cling to my tennis shoe *beat boxes* My name is D. Swizzy I keep busy, paraplegics with feet missing Call me sensational (back is the incredible!) But ten perecnt of my rhymes is illegible It's Danny Swain on the internet Posing in the nude in your sister's bed What's he doing on the cover of Vanity Sausage Granted, we saw such a thing coming for years Damn it he lost, but here's A way to spin it for PR's sake: Modify his EPK, say he's a J-E-R-K with no regard Take a dated headshot Photoshop some tattered tears Now have him kissin' Baby: +Cash Money+ out the stratosphere Shit, it worked for Weezy Believe me when I tell you D. Sweezy do it for TV Slip a Prilozac to Kyla Pratt Make Mya guzzle Dimetapp While Danny waxes philosophical You hear that? I'm still unstoppable
[Verse 2] I've got that Boutros Boutros-Ghali Dalai Lama flow Introduced Marsupilami's mommy to the dollar store And spoiled the broad *whistles* Spare the child, spoil the rod? They got it twisted Optimisitic never 'cause my album sales are non-existent I got a sickness and it's called I'ma-Fuck-You-Up-itis Climb in the truck with Don Imus And cruise the cul-de-sacs DVD up in the dash, we watching "When Seagulls Attack" I asked him where the hoes is at He said "don't bring that bullshit back" Goddammit Donnie, lighten up with your fat racist ass More tasteless than Cissy Spacek wearing a Jason mask Waitin' in my basement taped and gagged, in an apron Gas oven at four hundred degrees, and someone lights a match I'm 'bout to blow up My competition is bogus These wack rappers can go suck a dick, the kid is focused Niggas fiend for my beats I step on stages, girls scream like I'm Keith Fanfare was bigger than Vivica Fox Standing bare on the front of Vanity Fair Stricken with chicken pox You corny niggas can kick a rock, go rap with Sisqo You talkin' greasy, you must've taken a bath in Crisco D. Swain is back, manic at the disco! Uh
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