516 11758 I been a Long Island boy since the day I was made
Refusing to be played
I sat alone and rhymed for days
But before I lost my mind I figured out a better way
What else can I say
So hot your fingers burn if you touch this page
It’s been building up for days
The white suburban rage
They should hold a phat parade
Just to honor my ass
’Cause how many motherfuckers kick a sonnet the fast
And Shakespeare ain’t got shit on me
If he was around today he’d probably be an MC
Me and him up on stage with our powdered wigs
He’d be sayin’ things like “Wherefore art thou Willdigg?”
With my dick up in your girl William and I think it’s too big
And the only time I ever Hamlet
Is Boarshead between two pieces of bread on a sandwich
So what the fuck you gonna do with this
You’re constantly pursuing this
That which we call my skills
White boy known for rippin’ shit and wrecking mics at will
So if you catch me in a tub of oil
You can call me slick
But if you catch me at your girlfriend’s house
She’s probably on my dick
Cause that’s the kind of sick
Fuck that I can be
What you think you’re gettin’ ain’t exactly what you see
And who you’re gonna be
All depends on who you are
And the evidence that I submit suggests that
I’m a star