Gavin Castleton - I'm Not Really A Rapper lyrics

I'm not really a rapper - I'm a painter. I have to do this "rocking mics" thing to pay the bills. Most people say it's not all that bad, but they don't really know that I got mad sk**s cutting in window sills. My parents wish I would just give it up and make records, and it upsets me that they don't take my day job seriously– One day I'll show everyone – I can cover 1000 square feet of shingle with 20 gallons of latex exterior. I can cut and roll bedroom wall in 9 minutes I'll be calking up the cracks while most kids is fallin in 'em. You need your deck redone? Heads who know the proper procedure is slim pickin's Sand with 80 grade, then 100 grade, then 120 grade, vacuum the whole thing, and then apply three coats of Sickens (sand between each coat) I make magic with my hands but money only with my throat. How come you'll pay me to play notes but not to paint your boat? I'm seriously pretty good at it – I'm up and down ladders all day with a bucket of gray paint and no drips. I'll throw down drop cloths if it makes you feel better. If I had may way I'd spend the whole day in 90 degree weather covering my arms, head, and neck in oil paint, but I've got to get home and throw together some songs about whatever so that I can pay rent... I'm hell bent on winning cause the sk** is heaven-sent. I see guys slinging brushes that got no style at all - splash more paint on the floor than all four bedroom walls. But they're the first to get hired by the biggest contractors trying to cut costs with the fastest reenactors. Maybe I'm old school maybe it doesn't even matter - most clients don't even realize they paid for a disaster. My clientele tell me I'm out of my mind, I'm out of sight, I don't just do the job cheap I do the job right! I could turn the mood of your boudoir from day to night Or I could rock a semi-gloss with an eggshell white I'm sick of being "Master of Ceremonies" I wanna paint Compared to these hack ba*tards I'm a latter day saint It's not how you play the game, It's how you place the blame. It's not how you place the blame It's how you deal with shame. I'm not really a painter, I'm a greek chef I had to do that "painting houses" thing to pay the bills. Most people thought it wasn't all that bad but they didn't realize that it's a much better deal scraping chicken off the grill My parents think that painting was better for my disposition But they don't know how therapeutic I find the kitchen And they don't know how big I'm into over-sanitation finally put my creativity into a worthy occupation. And let's talk about dressing! I can whip up a batch however you like! With just oil, vinegar, water, and dressing mix I can put magic at your fingertips By way of your taste buds I can put you on the island of Crete Cucumber Sauce so authentic you'll come back from lunch break with sandy feet. I know it sounds ridiculous! But believe it! I role a phat Gyro!! So how come instead of vine leaves your mouth is occupied with my flow? Don't y'all get it?! This is the real me! I should know! You want to hear me rap but I'm just trying to realize MY dreams - trying to fit into a more grand scale machine Y'all want me to serve MCs for the rest of my life?! I'd rather serve greek salad and souvlaki over rice. Clean the tops of all the tables and get paid under them $8 bucks an hour plus all the chicken, and lamb and pita I can eat Plus I'm done by 3, use my tips to buy a Del's from the guy across the street. Take the trolley home - it's good to get back to public transportation Catch up with all my homies at the bus station. Get home, check my email, my voicemail, what's up? Answering machine: "Yo, we got a show tonight, we comin' to pick you up" It'd be nice to just relax, really focus on my craft Fast food is my future! making music is my past! It's not how you deal with shame It's how you make your name It's not how you make your name It's how you fake your fame I'm not really a greek chef, I'm a loser.