Clifford’z Rap.

Yo, yo. Yeah. Uh huh. Yeah. Feel it. Alright.

Yo. Yo. Turn that beat up a little bit. Yeah. No a little more. Yeah. Turn it up yeah. Uh. Uh huh. Yeah. Turn it up more. Oh yeah. Turn it—Ah god that’s too loud. Turn it down right now. Turn it down a bit more. Quick. Yeah. That’s right. Uh huh. Much better, thanks. Yo. Yo. Check it.

My name is Clifford and I really like to rap. I’m rapping right now and I’m rapping all the time.

I rap real good and I rap real fast. And if you don’t just like it then you can just shut the hell up fast.

Yo. Check it fools. Don’t be dissin’ my rhymes, otherwise I be getting angry all the times. Then I just might diss you back, although when I diss it be like a rap attack (which is in your face.)

Yeah. I like to have sex with bitches, sometimes in ditches, I be countin my riches, with these bitches, in the ditches. For ever.

So don’t be intimidated by my skillz, and don’t stand close when I cough or else I will make you illz. But not ill as in good at rappin, but ill as in all day toilet crappin.

Speakin of crap, oh look it’s your face. I’ve never seen anything uglier except the time a dog took a dump on your face.

I’m constantly improvin, like home improvement, with the main guy who does the grunting sounds, not that fat guy Roy or whatever his name is. He is rubbish.

So alright it’s time for me to be out. My toast be comin out of the toaster and my bagels be poppin out the oven, so don’t think I’m a boaster but I know I got the house pumpin. Or grinding, possibly both simultaneously.

Keep it real in your heart constantly, peace and for real.

Shopping List – memo, incomplete

For Howie’s 35th Birthday Party at Johnny Fritzlang’s Bar on West 57th Street.

- Champagne – 75 crates
- Truffles – 500kilo (bite-sized)
- Australia
- Cheese and pineapple on sticks – howie loves these
- A shaved monkey that can perform Re-light my Fire (the take that and lulu version, NOT the original.)
- Floor tiles from seventh century Paris
- Michealango’s Corpse (can double up as a table for serving the hors d’ovres on… note to self… find out what the sam hill hors d’ovres are)
- Fourteen unicorns (these will be kept locked up in a small room for the duration of the event.)
- Michael Jackson to perform “Happy Birthday”
- A sniper rifle
- Sniper rifle bullets
- Laser pointer
- 1 drunk and angry ex-US army marine sharpshooter who hates Micheal Jackson
- Michael J Fox (NOTE: Fox MUST wear his marty mcfly uniform AND stay in character for the entire duration of the event. Any deviation from the marty mcfly character will result in me spiking his drink with acid and supergluing his nostrils fucking shut.)
- Hoverboards. If they have not been invented yet, see next item.
- 15 of the world’s best scientists (to develop hoverboards.)
- Caviar. Better yet, get some fish from Russia and get them to take a crap directly into party-goers mouths. That will show that fuck-tooth Chuck Norris who throws the better party.