Chang v. Berry

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STOP! Put yo pencils down, there's EZB from the Cellular Crew.
He's mastered the in-class, the take-home, and the paper too,
But when it comes to hos, this jew ain't got a clue.

I'm just the sistah to enlighten this mistah.
Dinner's for prisses. Flowers for Mrs.
To get small azns like me, you gotta break out the wii.
I'm talkin golf, mario, obvi DDR
Don't even think about THAT unless you make par.

Once you're glistenin' and she's boxed your brains out,
Break out colored post-its to show your real clout.
Post-its mark the spots for desk accessory twister
Hence the story begins of how you fist her.

DJ Kung Pao, you're calling me out
But your verses are a desert, a lyrical drought
I'll show you the way, just watch as I rhyme
When I'm all done, you'll love me long time

My words will shred you, like the pork in moo shu
That's what happens when you dis the Cell Crew.
Your talk of fisting makes me think your sexist
But I can't think straight when I'm rolling in my Lexus.

Like chopsticks for soup, rap's not your style
You're more fit to be an EZ Berry-phile
Rhyming about post-its, your lyrics don't stick
What can I expect, you're nothing but a chick

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