I wrote a rap song about Donald Trump.
But first, a word on the whys and hows:
A couple months ago, I was struck by what I now think of as the “The Unified Gangster Rap Theory of Donald Trump.” Because more than anything else he claims to be – a businessman, a negotiator, the President of the United States – he is a gangster rapper. He’s obsessed with haters and not getting the credit he deserves; he’s psychologically required to brag about how much money he has, how much of a winner he is, and how he got to the top because he’s just better than everyone else. And his dick is HUGE. He’s so much virile man, be almost can’t handle it himself. And I started thinking: “why does someone write a gangster rap song by and about Trump?”
Well, did what I always do: I started with a ridiculous idea and ran with it. I started writing it on Facebook, asking friends to pitch in with some lines. I got some, which I’ve marked in italics (thanks, Séamus and Jonathan!). The rest is from yours truly.
Writing parody is tricky, especially when it involves something as easily lampooned as gangster rap, and it’s even trickier when you realize that winking at the conventions of gangster rap can all too easily devolve into stereotyping and, in the worst case, outright racism. Hip-hop has always been a political statement, a musical form and culture that arose from racial and socioeconomic inequality that are baked into the fabric of American society, and taking it up, even briefly as I have done, is take up these issues and play with them. There is always a danger in doing this, of “taking someone else’s voice” as your own, and in so doing, perpetuating the very cycle of injustice against silenced populations and groups that hip-hop has tried to combat. That I’m a white kid from the South doing it intensifies the risk. I can’t say that this is a good song, or that I’ve completely avoided these issues (I hope so); I can only say that I did it out of affection, and that the subject of the song, and not the style itself, is the target of the joke.
So that’s it. I hope I can make you laugh, maybe think, and that I haven’t insulted the God of Flow and Beats in the process. But that’s enough talking. It’s time to spit some rhymes.
Enjoy, bitches.
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I’m out of my tower and I got a bone to pick
Shakin’ walls, breakin’ laws like a toddler fit
Promised to build a wall, now I’m a man on a mission
Never promised the price would leave you a pot to piss in
And speaking of pots, when I’m home in Trump Tower
I love my golden toilets and I love my golden showers
I covet the powers and the prowess of a head-of-state
And tweeting out and seething about what mistakes to make
I’m an island of insanity in a sea of misery
The man without a plan and y’all are all Chris Christie
Who’s he, I forget, let’s talk about me some more
Got some time between meetings and the next Korean War
The POTUS with the mostest is a man of means
Ain’t believin’ what you’re seein’, just ask Fox & Friends
‘Cause I got fat stacks in my slacks and there’s more to come
Yes, son, that’s my name up on Air Force One
I like my name in lights and I like you dead to rights
But most of all I like my daughter when she’s struttin’ in them tights
You know the ones I mean, they’re emerald green
The color of my Jesus, no, not the Nazarene
But a true winner’s godless like hot lips in August
Burnin’ out haters with verbal quadraphonics
‘Cause my flow is manic, organic, and too hot to handle
Check your pocket, check your wallet and lock up your damsel.
Yeah, the bitches know I’m rich and that I know how to please ’em
And keep ’em, ’cause my tie ain’t all that’s waggin’ by my knees, son
Don’t run, just walk and ponder in wonder
The only thing with a circumference greater than all of my blunders
That rips your mother asunder and bankrupts your disrespect
Yeah, you know the time is upon you to contemplate my intellect
That prodigious legal mind and that scholar’s brain
That thinks three fifths ’bout money and one half ’bout hate
And that math adds up, sad cucks don’t know how to take it
‘Cause know-how’s just like sex and I’ve learned to fake it.
And I take shit like this country and I spin it to gold
Say my name and stake a claim, ’cause Trump’s the motherlode
Livin’ like a gangster, born a king.
Got more ice in his veins than a diamond ring
Livin’ like a gangster, born a king
Makin’, makin’, makin’ America great again
Hey, who’s got your name and number?
Hey, who’s that bangin’ your mother?
Hey, whose dick’s bigger than Obama’s?
Trump, Trump, Trump is the man of honor
Hey, who’s got your name and number?
Hey, who’s that bangin’ your mother?
Hey, whose dick’s bigger than Obama’s?
Trump, Trump, Trump is the man of honor
Hey, I don’t do nothin’ easy, okay, I’m not Obama
So how ’bout I drop some bars, this time without a teleprompter?
I’m a really smart guy, okay?
I’m just tellin’ you the facts, and not in a bragadocious way
I’m, like, the only one with as much money as me
Have you heard of Bill Gates – yeah, okay, he’s rich
But he’s not president, so, you know, is he that lit?
I’m the president, okay, me – I done won
I’m so good all I make are holes-in-one
That’s golf, a game I’m really, really, good at, by the way – I’m the best
This NAFTA, folks, it’s a disaster, it’s straight ruinin’ the West
I learned that from Steve Bannon, I really, really unimportant guy
But I mean, come on, look at me, who’s more fly?
I rollin’ deep on Mexico, folks, so deep you won’t believe it
I got so many homies, so many there’s, like, no defense against it
None, okay, they’re done, finished – it almost makes me laugh
Even China’s lost track of how much I win, and they’re really good at math
Oh, come on, give me a break, that’s not racist
I’m the most openminded guy, I’ve been places
Queens, Brooklyn, the Bronx, and New Jersey
There’s nowhere in the world women don’t wanna get with me
And no one loves women more than me, let me tell you
They’re all up in my business like Internal Revenue
I’m so, so respectful of beauty and a good pair of breasts
But it’s hard to look that high with my hand up their dress
I love this county, okay, no one loves it more than Trump
Ask anyone, they’ll tell you I’m on the up-and-up
And ISIS, okay, they’re losers, I’m gonna beat ’em so bad
They’re gonna wish I never inherited cheddar from my dad
Who only gave me a little bit, by the way, ’cause I came up on my own
I slung more dimes than a public telephone
But just one more thing ‘fore I drop this mic and leave you in confusion
There ain’t nothin’ to all these stories of collusion
It’s a witch hunt, chump, just haters hatin’ on my shit
I know all there is to know, and ain’t know nothin’ ’bout it
So shortly I be straight beefin’ with Robert Mueller
Cat be trippin’ ’cause nobody be cooler
Than Trump, the best president you ever gon’ have – I’m tremendous
Man, don’t go listenin’ to all these whack-ass bitches
I go down as smooth as a well-done steak
But bitch, I’m the classiest mistake you ever made
Livin’ like a gangster, born a king.
Got more ice in his veins than a diamond ring
Livin’ like a gangster, born a king
Makin’, makin’, makin’ America great again
Hey, who’s got your name and number?
Hey, who’s that bangin’ your mother?
Hey, whose dick’s bigger than Obama’s?
Trump, Trump, Trump is the man of honor
Hey, who’s got your name and number?
Hey, who’s that bangin’ your mother?
Hey, whose dick’s bigger than Obama’s?
Trump, Trump, Trump is the man of honor
The Red Thread 