Lyrics

I’m a Walt Whitman, type hit man
shit hit fan, I’m like Tucan, son of Sam
Follow my nose, follow my flows A change of clothes
you stole some change, changed your mind hard to find me
grind me bump me, tues night right into humpday
strap the fuck in, mama its about to get strange
I said the stage is my home on the range, now watch me beg for change
Bright lights and bright colors, kid rhyme ridiculous
I’m coming in Loud and clear I got more presence than st. nicholas
Like a wanna be rat pack slash Zack Attack back on track, marks up my back
I’m betting on cats down at the dog track
collecting toothbrushes, cause I don’t deserve love
You’re the one I’m thinking of, is my fingers in your glove enough to
Scratch the surface I’m nervous, I’m at your cervix, you heard this,
I’m swervin, mixed emotions with my trail mix
musician on a mission, just to find out, where you at?
Professor Plum is in the study with a baseball bat

I’ve got nervous energy I’ve got some awkward moments
I”ve got some over-thinking control of my drinking
You’ve got a busy schedule You’ve got confusing signals
You’ve got the right to not respond

Carl Sandburg type gambler but I wouldn’t bet a penny that I ever get a lambor-
ghini you don’t wanna see me on my feet you wanna see me never eatin’, beaten livi’n in a camper
I dont do it for the fame or the glamour
I do it cuz I might like playin with a sampler
Goddamn her if she wanna tamper
With me when I'm spitting getting shitty like a pamper
Another damn verse write until my hand hurts
If I can’t curse like I'm in a damn church
Well it wouldn’t be my banter, slander, candor
I aint a pussy like a man-nurse
Bruce Banner into the Hulk whats
Good for the geese even better for the gander
Red beam not a gun but a scanner
Nervous energy and its gettin on my damn nerves
Want an answer want a taste
Wanna hide my face like Cobra Commander
Then again want a friend like Chandler
When I'm at the end , you can put me in a tan hearse
Salamander, I wanna change
I wanna rearrange and start with my manners
Well it cant hurt, carryin’ a man-purse
Richard Gere...or a hamster
If I wasn’t white, I could be a black panther
Huh....I'd rather have cancer
So you can like me and be my fan or
Hate me I dont care I'll hit you with a hammer
Gettin mine online like a spammer
If I couldn’t rap, then I'd probably be a dancer
Red beam, not a gun but a scanner
Nervous energy and its gettin on my damn nerves