I was thinking how much of a wigger I am on the way home today, as I heard the song Sirens. Youse guys never hung on the streets where I am from. Shizzle, don't fuck wit da bindery posse - um - no, I can't string the words together well enough. I wanted to incorporate G but I guess I was defeated by my pasty whiteness. Deep down you know I just don't have the funk. I know it too.
But my neighbours, who are even lamer wiggers than I am, are seemingly unaware of this. They keep Rollin'rollin'rollin. They listen to music from the hood, and have a washing-line presumably filled with black hoodies. Always with the chillin' out maxin' and relaxin' all cool. All with that sweet NZ raised inflection. Don't want to hear it guys, you suck.
Stop laughing vapid bitch neighbour or I'll have to open up a can o' whoop-ass! Oh no you di'n't! You di'n't!
Oh I give in, I'll just shut the window and go back to bluegrass.
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