My name is Danny Manning, baby, and I'd just like to spit at ya
And it's not art or poetry, fuck, it's not even literature
But I think you'll still enjoy it, nice and steady as we go
You will get lost in the flow, I am sure, even though
I look nothing like a rapper – I'm a six-foot bag of bones,
Scrawny as I was when I was still livin' at home.
Still can't grow a beard, not even scruffier than most –
Worst of all, my skin in paler than a motherfucking ghost.
But I'll still haunt ya if want ta, I could keep the party dancin'
Don't get scared by my hair, it's been compared to Charles Manson,
I'm just a psycho on the dance floor and I only murder verses,
So take a step closer while I unsheathe my cursive.
Finally old enough to swear – to let go these curses,
So fuck, shit, damnit! Sorry, Mom, I know you heard this.
I'm dustin' off my notebook, yeah, I saved it from the catacombs
Of phosphorescent adolescence. Now I'm fully grown.

I'm still the same ugly kid, same first and last name –
Twenty-two now – 8 years since I broke up with the rap game,
But hip-hop's a sultry mistress, and she's sayin' I just can't miss this
So I'm back with bigger bones to take her home and pull her hips in!
These words should be evidence that now I've lost my innocence.
Fuck getting intimate with rap, I'll flip the mattresses.
Seduction is my function when these pages are my boudoir.
So when I'm scratchin' syllables, the scratches turn to new scars.
Too far? Never, I just ache for cold showers,
'Cause I'm full of piss and vinegar and lots and lots of gun powder!
Rap's my babygirl after a long separation.
At my haven, music, love, it's the same what I am makin'.
I was fourteen years of age last time I stabbed in the dark
With my ballpoint pen, just trying to build the ark
Out of scrawny, scribbled letters and my dreary, weary sentiments.
Two of every word to take me past bland linguistics.

Letters drip from my lips – half-wits from my sick brain.
The drugs took the other half and left me with this mixtape.
But I'm pretty much just doin' this so girls will think I'm cool,
Because I'm tired of being that idiot sitting outside of the pool:
Shirt off, trunks up, flabby guts hangin' out –
With my tongue licking at nothing but the inside of my mouth.
So turn this shit up and meet me drinkin' in the deep end.
I'll be creepin' with my floaties, telling all the girls to leap in.
I'm not stoppin' till the week ends; till my vision's wet and blurry, just
Party till my nerves are bust, and I've got hypothermia.
We dry ourselves off and clap our hands: here WE go!
Shout out all the words and you will validate my ego!
But Lord knows that I don't need it: I'm a rockstar on the weekends,
And I consume compliments like they will cure my weakness.
But by Monday I am fiending for a word spoken kind
To put my dreary soul to rest, relax my worried mind!

'Cause it's a hard-knock life, bein' brought up in the 'Burbs.
That's a lie, I'm spoiled and white, it was Easy Street for sure.
I've never done an honest day's work; never suffered hard labor;
Never toiled till my hands hurt; never hustled for the paper.
I can't change your oil, I can't even change your tire,
But I'll bust some 401 shit when your ass wants to retire!
But now I'm knee-deep in the mire. I'm entrenched in the thickets
Of the homelessness and loneliness. The saddest and the sickest.
There is only endless pavement – there is no greener grass
For the hunched and huddled mass reaching up to middle class.
I will wave as I pass – soft hands, with no callouses,
And I will not get sleep back home on fancy mattresses.
It's a hard world out there. How come no one ever told me?
I was fed a softened truth along with white bread and bologna.
But oh me! Oh, my, this does not make me a phony.
And you're free to disagree, but bitch, you can gently blow me.

'Cause we all got problems, but, I have the solution!
We all have the poison in our mind: the pollution!
It's in the words that you write. It's in the truths that you will find.
So you can listen or don't listen. Fuck. Either way is fine.
Has anyone checked the time? This rap is turning to a ramble
Of belligerent bullshit. I'm afraid I start to babble.
Let me scramble with these words and see if I can make it stronger.
04:45? Okay, I'll make it longer!
So let's hear you scream louder, baby. Praise me, fucking praise me!
It seems that I'm need of it. I'm so self-deprecating.
I'm a vain motherfucker – only care about superfluous
Matters. What of the universes that gave birth to us?
Time and endless space, and galaxies that keep the sky bright.
I just really want to know if I am getting laid tonight.
Hey, babe! Whaddya say? My belly's big and soft like gelatin,
And the rest of me is white and bony as a fucking skeleton.

Alright now, that's enough. You know my name and my appearance,
And you know if you're not praising me, then I don't wanna hear it.
But you know that I will do my best to greatly entertain,
And I will gladly buy your drinks in exchange for your name.
It's a shame that I've been gone for so long, but now I'm back,
And the beat drops here to take us to the next track.