http://www.auspantheon.com/why_do_i_try_so_hard.mp3
*phone rings
"Hang on babe, my phone... yea yea Maccy where you at?"
"Just chillin westwide mate, westside."
"Aw yea food court or what? You at the food court or what mate?"
"Yea na na mate, the carpark."
"Yea yea, so what, you wanna hook up later mate, you wanna hook up later?"
"Aw yea mate, just with my bitch now mate, will have to shake her off, then, yea, we'll hook up."
"Yea KFC alright, alright yep, its on."
"Yea KFC, if not KFC I'm at timezone baby, timezone."
"Cool, catcha."
"Cya."
Why Do I Try So Hard
Quote:
Could someone tell me whats up with these try-hard homies
They're caps back to front but I think they're fonies
They're out with the crew, decked out in Fubu
The latest Nike sneaker is their choice of shoe
Tripple extra large so big they're sagging
With the pimp-limp their leg they be dragging
In the hood you know you're not a real G
Unless you spell fat, P H A T
The local shopping centre is the place you hang
Chilling with your bitch and the rest of the gang
Comparing knives, shooting dice and working on your plant
To become an Aussie version of the Wu-Tang clan
Alright, that's enough you gotta stop, but please
This aint New York city or Los Angeles
Coz there's no LBC, in the LDB, no Snoop Doggy Dog or Warran G
You just gotta be kidden, or jokin, or just smokin
Your track suit's bright green, you're looking like a fasion theme
To some, but others seem to like it until oh shit
They've got the same one on
Hang on, hang on, I think I know what's goin on
You feel more hardcore when you dress this way
The Aussie coloured gangs at the shops you hang
Coming back every day like a boomberang
Doing criminal things as your Nokia rings
Mummy's calling you home, you've got a family thing
What a cutsie-wootsie little gangsta G
Harrass me, then you're running home for tea
You're just rich boys wishing you were black or poor
Spending the day smoking crack and patronizing whores
But you don't, you wont and you're starting to smirk
Coz when you turn 17 your Dad will buy you the Merc
Man I've been to L.A. I've seen where gansters chill
Believe me boys it aint nothing like the hills
So check yourself before you wreck yourself
Get the fasion eraser out, correct yourself
But if you're down with dressing like a clown thats sick
Just stop giving me shit when I'm trying to catch a flick
All of you slackers stop fooling yourselves
"I'm dreamed that I was hard"
I'd just like to inform you, you're not
The gangs are gathered around the front of Grace Brothers
Some too young to drive so they're waiting on their Mothers
To come and pick them up and take them home
That's why they've got that flashy new mobile phone
Then you've got the ones who are on their P's
With their licence in hand and a set of keys
Doing laps of the local neighbourhood
Thinking they're looking so damn good
Their car is lowered, the windows tinted
But what a fuckin shame that the spoilers dinted
I guess it doesn't matter when you've got a sick system
That goes so loud the whole world can listen
To your "doof doof" crap and your gangsta rap
No room for more than two with the woofers in the back
The boys in the hood they never looked this good
If you could change skin colour I bet you would
But that aint gonna happen so I guess you're just a wigga
At least you're looking cool in your Tommy Hill-figure.
"I'm not hip to this?!"
This is not about race, religion, or colour, or creed
Coz there's dicks in every part of the world you see
This is about teenie-boppers hanging out at the shops
Wasting all of my time as my path they cross
With your fists firmly clenched at your arms extended
You starred at me and now you're offended?
If I was tough enough I'd knock your arse to the floor
But I'm not so I laugh at make a run for the door
You really think you're looking like a gangsta rapper?
Like Ice Cube's hanging out in Paramatta
You get a wigga foodcourt so what's the deal
Some call it harlem, some call it westfield
So fuck you if you wear addidas
But just kidding, if you ever get to meet us
And if you fall for that, man you're as dumb as you look
Coz when it comes to looking stupid, boys you wrote the book
"I'm not hip to this?!"
"I'm from the ghetto"
"Drowned in a pool of fake ganstas"
"Most of em korny, and dont do nothin for me"
This parody song promotes every feeling I've had towards 13 year old high school, shopping centre homies since I heard my first Ice Cube song.
I'll be sharing it at DGA21 for anyone who wants to laugh as hard as I have tonight.