My Career as a Rapper

Back when I worked in the crazy restaurant Rap was starting to go mainstream. We already had people rapping, and the one and only "Rapture" by Blondie and such, but they were just starting to wake up and smell the cash, and Rap exploded. Even white guys were doing it, so I figured I might as well try my hand at writing a Rap tune. I really didn't have a timetable.
 I got my chance one day when I was at work. I was talking to Cindy (aka DJ Cinj). Somehow the subject of Rap came up. I told Cindy that I bet I could be a white rapper. I don't think she believed me for a second. I was crushed, but I wouldn't be denied. Trouble is I had to make it up on the spot. One of the nicknames given to me by my friend and erstwhile bartender ET was "Weird Al Yankonit" because I took normal songs and made up my own stupid lyrics. I thought I could do it no problem.
 Cindy stood there looking bored, with her head tilted and her hand on her hip, as I cleared my throat and went "MI MI MI" a few times. I honestly hadn't made up a word beforehand, but I began to sing, if you could call it that. It came straight off the top of my head.

I'm a son of a bitch
I got a trailer hitch
I drove my ass
Right into a ditch, yo

Cindy didn't say a word. She just tilted her head a little more with a "REALLY?" look on her face. I didn't give up, and some new lyrics popped into my head as if by magic. I took a sip of water and started to sing.

Mutha, mutha, mutha, mutha, mutha muthafucka
Muthafucka and anotha muthafucka

Nothing from Cinj. "Well?" I said. "I don't think you have what it takes to be a rapper" she said. "That's about as 'white' as anything I've ever heard in my life. Maybe you should stick to Rock and Roll." She was right. It escaped my mind at the time, but I'd actually written an entire Rap rewrite of the Beverly Hillbillies Theme. It rocked.

Come a-listen to a story 'bout a man named JED
Po' mountainEER barely kep' his homies FED
Then one day he'uz shootin' at some FOOD
When up from da ground come a bubblin' CROOD
(Oi-oi-oi-oi-oil, 'dat is, y'all)

Too bad I couldn't try my hit out on Cindy, but I think she'd had enough Cracker Rap for one day. I hear you. A little goes a long way. I guess it's just as well I can't rap. Plenty of white doofuses rapping, yo. Word.