by Zach Sherwin

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released September 6, 2016

Mixed by Daniel Fox for Wondersmith Audio ( Mastered by Paul Miner (

Beats by Soce the Elemental Wizard (Tracks 2, 7, 10, 11), Illingsworth (Tracks 1, 8, 12), Speakerbomb (Track 3), DJ Huggy (Track 4), Upryz (Track 6), and Teddy Roxpin (Track 9).

Recorded by Daniel Fox for Wondersmith Audio (Tracks 2, 5, 7, and 10), Dante Cimadamore (Tracks 3, 6, 8, and 12), DJ Huggy (Tracks 4, 6, and 9), Mike Tuccillo (Track 1), and Zach Sherwin (Track 11).



all rights reserved


Zach Sherwin Los Angeles, California

LA-based comedian, rapper, and writer. “Epic Rap Battles of History” (YouTube), “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” (The CW), “Totally Biased with W. Kamau Bell” (FX, FXX), “The Pete Holmes Show” (TBS), “America’s Got Talent” (NBC), Comedy Central Records, ASpecialThing Records. ... more

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Track Name: Good Heavens

Good heavens!
An engine of ingenuity is under my hood revvin'
And revvin'
And revvin'
Three times for six V's cause it's a V6
Like Eve 6 with the E's nixed
I spit my first bars a bit before my bar mitzvah
Now I'm artistically marvelous
From the La Brea tar pits to Mar Vista
A place where you can see sea? ¡Sí!
And I will stop here: cease ici.
Cause I love 2 romance languages
And I know a good thing
But I also know when it's done.
So I will end this extended pun
Anyone still listening is screaming “Finally!”
Like CeCe Peniston
Friends, it's unclear where to take it from here
So I'll take the plunge, expunge fear
And lunge off the brink, and fence
I'm trying to second-guess and reckon less
Say “Heck yes” to recklessness and steer by instinctive sense
Commit to inspirations by committing them to paper in ink:
Permanent inkling cement.
Why pencil it if I can write in pen? Solidify!
On Twitter, my pal Allie thinks
My resemblance to Barton Fink's immense
And I agree. If I didn't, I would be bonkers.
Getting along's stronger
When you concur, you conquer!
Fusion over fission, leaf over beef, bro
I'm at the plant-based, not the beast-based bistro
Thank you over please.
“Yo!” “Sup?” “Sit and sup with me. A cup of tea?”
“Nah, an espresso's more my cup of tea.”
Couplet puppetry explodes errit-eruptively.
Scratch the fire, man, like a feline that climbed up a tree
Pops made music. Mom pens poetry.
They collabo'ed one time only.
She wrote up the rap and he
Produced the track and the
Result goes Zachary! Zachary! Zachary!
And I will keep singing that song
That my mom and my daddy composed
Until I'm dead and decomposed
And maybe even beyond in the happy hunting ground
Here's a rappy grunting sound
Now we can close.
The only reason I would care if Evan Rachel Wood
Would select Chris Evans as her life-mate
And hyphenate her name
So it became “Evan Rachel-Wood Evans”
Is because it would rhyme perfectly with “Good heavens!”
Track Name: Circumcising Wolverine

I feel stress and misery when my inbox is not spic and span
I really hate mess and disarray so I keep it clear
As near zero as I can
But man, I just can't win
It's like no matter how hard I strive
New e-mails just keep coming in
Or people write back to the ones that I've already archived
I was talking to a friend
About how this job won't ever be brought to completion
He was like, “Yeah, that's never gonna end
Truly, the task is...Sisyphean.”
I said, “Whoa, run it back, explain,
Whatever the reference is, I'm missing this.”
He said, “Come on, Zach, rack your brain.
I'm talking about the Greek myth of Sisyphus.
He's the man who the gods condemned to walk up a mountain
Pushing a gigantic boulder
But every time he got to the summit with the rock
It would plummet to the bottom
And he'd have to start over and over, forever
He is the symbol of frustrated effort! That is his fate!
Hence the expression!”
And I was like, “Eh! It's a little outdated.”
So I thought up an update.
We all know who the X-Men are
A team of superheroes with incredible abilities
And Wolverine is the breakout star
He can heal back instantly from any injury
He just regenerates like BOOM!
You can't permanently hurt him, guys
And that's why we can safely assume
That Wolverine is uncircumcised. Look:

I don't want to be obscene
But you can't circumcise the Wolverine
If you cut him, he'll heal back pristine.
You can't circumcise the Wolverine. No...
Even if your blade is keen
He's a foreskin regrowth machine
And trying to keep my inbox clean
Feels just like circumcising Wolverine
See what I mean? Right?
You can't circumcise the Wolverine
I shake my fist and scream at the screen:
“Damn your mutant genital regeneration gene!”
And it isn't just e-mail
You can use this phrase to describe any frustrating routine
Where the light at the end of the tunnel's unseen
You can't guillotine the Wolverine peen.
Track Name: Drop Bars

I drop bars so fast you'll be poppin' your neck
As you whip your head, following the Doppler effect
Lemme stop for a sec
“Dropping bars” means “rapping”
You copy, correct?
OK, just a glossary check. All right then
Lemme switch gears and invite you to picture an item
Everybody envision a bicycle
With the handlebars that are the type that you'll
See curvin' around and down low-like
The kind you'll find on most road bikes
And I won't steer you false, no
Those are called “drop bars” also
So I wrote and I composed this
Ode devoted to the dopest components
Drop-bar handles are the topic and
I'm about to put it down like a kickstand

Yo I had to drop bars about drop bars
Had to drop drop-bar bars
On the left and on the right
The front and the back
I want it hot tonight
I want hands to clap
When I rock the mike
With bike handle raps
And I drop bars, about drop bars

OK, stop. Wait. Please hold up
Deeply sorry to interrupt
I'm also Zach Sherwin
But not the one from the last verse, I'm a more mature version
And I wanna say to myself:
Okay, that drop bar thing is a cute wordplay
But I gotta take a critical dig at this drivel
It's trivial and frivolous!
Why pick topics like these when
You could talk about the reasons you're a vegan
Open up about your relationships or even
Opine with a dope rhyme about current events?
Choose to sink your teeth deep into
Chewy themes with true meaning you believe in!
Get inspired! When you drop bars, set the bar higher!

And don't drop bars about drop bars.
Raise the bar when you drop bars!
When they drop the beat, don't drop the ball
With some wacky rap that's off the wall
Are bike handles important? Not at all!
Raise the bar above dropping drop-bar bars!

Haaaang on. Pause one second
I'm Zach 3 and I just gotta step in
And say to number 2, “You were on the right track
Until that chorus when you fell right back
On the same old crutch! You couldn't resist!
You had a good point but you had to put a clever little
Twist on it. Lapse into absurdism;
You're trapped in a word prison.”
Now at this point you'd make the joke
That if you were in word prison,
You wouldn't wanna drop, the bar, of soap
But am I gonna stoop that low? Um...nope

Guys? Zach number 4. Hi. Hey number 3? Nice try,
But even YOU couldn't restrain your brain from a pun -
So don't front like you refrained
But look, I get it! I see where you're at!
You want less whimsy in your act
Wanna get away from language games to be more relevant;
Well, it's great to develop and change
But fella don't trip
For life you're equipped with a verbal-quip microchip
So it really doesn't matter if you'd rather be discussing what “matters”
Because this is what your gray matter does automatically
So don't detest yourself, man - accept yourself and
Express what's there, even if you couldn't care less
At least now you'll be doing it with self-awareness
Double down on the drop-bar raps
Dedicate yourself to performing the task as well as it can be done
Here's Zach 5, who's also Zach number 1...

Whether you're an amateur or in the Tour De France you will
Affirm that drop bars are for sure phenomenal
Superb equipment with a curve and dip that getcha
Sittin' in a position that's ergonomical
They're so aerodynamic
Man you can exceed the speed at which an arrow flies, dammit
You can be a winner, eat anybody for dinner
But be careful if you ride 'em on the road and you're a beginner
They're a bit of an adjustment
But you're gonna fly on 'em once you're accustomed
You'll be goin' quick not slow like the hip-hop flow
In my jam about the handles with the grip dropped low.

Had to drop bars, about drop bars
Had to drop drop-bar bars
On the left and on the right
The front and the back
I want it hot tonight
I need hands to clap
When I rock the mike
With bike handle raps
And I drop, bars, about, drop, bars.
Track Name: Duck I (Discovered)

Here's the plan today
I'm going to tell a tale in an expansive way
Three parts.
But before we start
I'm going to bow my head and fold my hands and pray:
“Grant I may share my narrative as well as I can relay an anecdote.
Help me spread my wings like a manta ray.
As Superman would say, 'Up, up, and away!'”
My friend teaches at a boarding school about an hour out of Santa Fe.

I went to see him there and on the final day of my campus stay
He suggested visiting the farm
To see the animals they had living in the barn
This guy Nate provided a guided tour.
He said, “These are our new chickens.”
I asked about the previous batch of birds.
He said, “There are these wild dogs living in the hills
And they raided the farm,
And every last feathered hen was
Massacred by those blasted curs
A bloodbath occurred.
It was nasty and brutish.”
We moved on to the next stall.
Nate pointed, and he said “That? Is Brutus.”
We looked. There was a duck.
He was sitting on the floor, dirt-packed and dusty.
Nate said, “He's the only survivor of the dog attack.”
Yup, miraculously, not a single hair on him was harmed.
(That's not the miracle; ducks don't have hair.)
But what this duck did have was balls:
A gigantic, iron-clad pair.
Nate said “He'll be dead soon though!”
I asked “Why?” The duck just sat there.
And Nate goes “Oh, we're gonna cook him and eat him.”
WHAT?!? How is that fair?
Fate had spared this lucky duck.
If he were human instead of a creature,
He'd become a national hero,
Or at least a motivational speaker,
Or a preacher, who believed fervently
The Eternal had called upon him to serve a holy purpose.
But all the duck was gonna be served was a l'orange.
Brutus: named for a traitor
Whose heart was impure and schemin', bruh.
But now HE was being betrayed by his human caretakers?
That's so ironic it could cure anemia.
I felt like screaming “UGH”
But then, I had a thought – kerpow!
A lightbulb flash, an idea:
“Nate,” I said, “could I sponsor this waterfowl?
Could I donate some dough in exchange
For you keeping and lodging and feeding the duck?”
Nate said he'd check with the farm director
But was certain that some agreement could be struck.
Well; yay!
So on my way back to LA, I gave the situation some consideration
And decided to insist on makin' a deal with three stipulations.
One, Brutus could never be slaughtered.
He'd live in the barn till he died of old age.
Two, each week, they'd have to send me a photo
Of somebody holding a page
Of that day's paper up next to his face,
So I'd know that he hadn't been whacked.
And three - I can't resist closing on a pun -
They'd have to change his name to “Quack Sherwin.”
So I'm patting myself on the back, smirkin',
Thinking “How humanitarian of you.”
I even regaled a friend that I ran into
With all the details of all that I planned to do
But he e-mailed me the next day and he wrote, quote:

“I think that duck
Having to live until the end of its natural life
With no other ducks around is going to be rough.”

So I Googled it, and sure enough:
Ducks get dejected unless there's a friend.
Next step was to send a request
To protect and defend him from harm
To the farm director, Ben. I wrote:

“I hope I'm not too late,
But I want to save that duck at the farm
From becoming a meal.
Ideally I'd arrange to take it somewhere
Where it can live around water and other ducks.”

He replied:

“Hi Zach - Thanks for your note.
I have called all of the farm sanctuaries in our area.
None of them will take a male duck
Because they are so aggressive
(the reason he was confined in the first place
was because he was beating up our chickens).
You are welcome to see if you can find someone
Willing to come and get him.....
We have fed him a long time,
And he has had a decent life with us (until recently).
We plan to slaughter him soon and eat him,
Unless other arrangements can be made shortly.
Thanks, B.”

I had to move quick, be a swift arranger!
Brutus was in the grip of danger!
And don't be miffed or angered or flip the finger
But I'm stopping here on a cliffhanger.
To be continued.
Track Name: Alone By Heart

In 1987
A band called Heart
Released a power ballad
That topped the charts
The song's called "Alone"
And the music is fine
But really it's those lyrics
That are truly sublime
So I decided I would make an endeavor
And memorize the words
So I'd know them forever
On my own steam
With nobody's help
This was something I needed to do for myself
So I holed up in my room and went hermit
Tried till I cried
Determined to learn it
And then one day
I came out of my cell
I was thin with a really long beard
And I smelled
But God, I had done it:
I learned every part
Of "Alone," by Heart,
alone, by heart.

Till now!
I always got by on my own!
I never really cared until I met you!
(I know the whole fucking thing, I'll keep going!)
And now it chills me to the bone!
"Alone," by Heart,
Alone, by heart.
I learned it alone.
I learned it

By heart.
Track Name: Duck II (Defended)

Chapter two.
I thought, “Sacre bleu!
Unless the duck's adopted soon,
The webfoot will get his neck put on a block
And lopped in two!
They'll cleave and hew him;
Leave him in ruins
Like music from Houston,
He'll be chopped, and screwed.
And since Ben the farm director told me
None of the shelters in New Mexico
Would give him a rescue home
I thought “I'll get my phone and start
Tracking down assistance
Acting like a phallic cornea.”
(A private eye.)
I began in Acton, California.
“Hi, you've reached the Farm Sanctuary.
This is Theresa.”
“Yeah, hello. My name is Zach.
It's nice to meetcha. Can I beseech ya
On behalf of a creature that I just met?
A duck who eluded brutal canine attacks,
But still will be hacked up and dined on?
It's unfair, and unkind, and honestly, an anticlimax!”
He gave the slip to fangs that dripped
With drops of dog saliva.
He's an awesome improviser like MacGyver.
Made it out the frying pan
And now the plan is still to toss him in the fire
Even though he's like a barnyard Holocaust survivor!”
Theresa said, “I'm sorry! He really sounds impressive.
But male ducks a/k/a drakes are too aggressive.

They can be very, very aggressive
And we have chickens we wouldn't want him to mess with
We got peace to keep
We don't need your duck and our hens
Going beak to beak
I bet that you could find
Some other rescue that would help ya
But New Mexico isn't known for having too many shelters
So when we hang up the phone I am gonna
Send over a list of sanctuaries out in Arizona
These, places might be willing to adopt him
He's, special. Gotta get the point across to 'em
Please, take my suggestion when you talk to 'em:

I'm serious. Tell everybody else you talk to he's like a Holocaust survivor, it's gonna seal the deal." "Wait, I can't tell if you're joking right now." "I'm 100% serious."

She sent the list
I called a likely-seeming candidate:
A spot close to Flagstaff
In the Grand Canyon State.
“Hello this is Cody."
"Hi, I met a duck who's slated to die
After evading a violent fate.”
Then what the hell, I gave it a try:
I said “He basically survived the Holocaust?”
And crossed my fingers, then
Cody said “We'll take him! You can go ahead and bring him in."
Theresa KNEW that line would keep these people from declining!
I'm no fan of WWII but that's a tiny silver lining.
Cody went on, “You're lucky to connect with me.
Lots of places won't take a drake;
They can be aggressive sexually.”
Whoa. The plot had just heated up and thickened.
Is THAT what Ben had meant when he said,
“Beating up the chickens?”
I said, “Full disclosure: I won't bluff or pretend.
I've been told that this duck tends to be rough with the hens.”
I thought Cody's offer might be shredded to confetti
But instead he said, “Ha! I like this guy already.”
Direct quote from Cody!
Animal folks are quirky
I didn't question too closely
Cause now I had a haven that Brutus would be safe in
I could save him
If I could just arrange some transportation
'Cause Flagstaff is six and a half hours' drive
From the barn where Brutus was stashed at
Not close, no sir
And I wasn't so sure
I could find a chauffeur
Of whom I could ask that.
So although Ben had said that all those local sanctuaries were
Wary of the duck like he was hazmat
I thought it couldn't hurt to take another pass at
So I called a place smack dab in Santa Fe to have a chat.
“Kindred Spirits, this is Ulla.”
“I'll get down to brass tacks.
I met a duck who's on the execution fast track.
He's a Holocaust-surviving sex offender.
Think Schindler's List meets Clockwork Orange meets Aflac.”
“HE SOUNDS FANTASTAC! We'll take him!"
Of course that's a comedically heightened exaggeration
But after all his trials and tribulations,
Brutus was in the clear!
“Except,” Ulla said,
“We can't pick him up.
You'll have to bring him here."
That was no prob.
I called Nate.
You recall Nate.
I said “Good news! The duck's saved.
We stopped death. We stalled fate.
I found him a home close by.
He'll be in good hands like Allstate.
But he is gonna need a ride there.
Could you help out? Could you haul freight?
It's right outside of Santa Fe.”
And Nate went, “Nice. Yeah, okay.
I could probably drive thataway
Maybe like Friday or Saturday?”
I won't deny, I felt delated
I hoped he'd understand and say,
"I'm so inspired, I can't delay!
I leavin'! Arriba! Andele!”
But he was my only chance to save the day!
So I said, “Great! Sure That rocks!
What would you plan to transport him in?
Pet carrier? Cardboard box?"
And you will not believe his reply:
"Oh. I don't know...
I guess I'd throw him in my trunk and drive slow.
That's not a lie, though;
It's unembellished fact.
What the hell would have happened if I HADN'T asked?
Brutus clings to life like Superglue and then
En route to New Jerusalem
His pooch is screwed in the boot of this dude's Subaru?!
“Ahem,”I said, “Gosh, Nate, that kinda sounds not great.
Maybe ask around and see if someone has a dog crate?
And PLEASE keep me posted.” “For sure,” he assured me.
But I heard nothing Wednesday and not a word Thursday.
I could feel the momentum melt, slip, and drop
Tick tock, close to twelve on the apocalypse clock
Gloom bloomed darkly. Doom loomed starkly.
To be concluded. Stay tuned for Part III.
Track Name: Flab Slab

Once there was a boy.
Quiet, shy.
A chubby, sensitive, bookish little guy
He had a real name by which his folks knew him
But “Flab Slab” is how we'll refer to him
A flab slab: how would we define that?
That'd be like a big flat thick slice of fat
And that's the unfortunate nickname
He got from Randall, the nastiest kid in the sixth grade
Who preyed on Flab Slab's weakness,
Mocked his supposed obeseness.
He would roll up on him at recess
And call him the name that made him feel deep shame and depressed
Flab Slab was Randall's primary target
And it was quite scary. Eventually,
He stopped going out to the playground
And just holed up in the library.

Flab Slab!
He mistreats you!
You're his victim!
He's your tormentor!
How much will you stand for?
Show 'em what you stand for!
Frightened little awkward boy, sitting, looking at books...

One day instead of playing outside
Flab Slab trudged glumly to the libe
Where displayed prominently
He saw a biography of Muhammad Ali
Flab Slab took one look at the book
And after one page, he was hooked
He devoured it in a single sitting
And got an idea that set his head spinning
When he got home, he asked Mom and Pops a question:
Would they sign him up for boxing lessons?
He'd never shown any interest in sports before
But they said “yes of course, for sure!”
And we're not gonna go into a montage scene
Where he turns into a lean mean fighting machine
He just learned the basics of how to throw a punch,
Which made his self-esteem grow a bunch

Flab Slab!
You have had it!
You won't stand it anymore!
Take a stand and
Show 'em what you stand for
What do you stand for?
Fighting lessons and battle skills, learning about boxing...

Weeks passed.
Flab Slab biding his time.
Remaining in hiding.
Until one fateful day
When the teacher said,
“OK, class, it's time to go play.”
Flab Slab's heart was beating at a fast rate
As he walked out with the rest of his classmates
But he felt strong, no anxiety
As he went and he read quietly by a tree
Suddenly a shadow darkened the page
Flab knew a battle was about to be waged
Randall knocked his novel in the dirt.
Pulled him to his feet by the collar of his shirt.
Kids gathered 'round like they do when a fight occurs.
Randall said, “I'm gonna punch out those lights of yours.”
Flab thought of the things he had learned in the ring
Took a swing and ding-ding-ding!
Randall was a goner.
Flab Slab stood there dominantly
And as calm as could be he said,
“My moniker's an honor to me
'Cause it means I'm like Muhammad Ali.
It's F, L, A, B,
S, L, A, B.
Look closely, you'll see
It's the initials of 'Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.'”

Flab Slab!
That name you hated!
You reclaimed it!
You made it yours!
Now we
Know what you stand for.
And so we're finished, later, adios, bye, sayonara, love and BREAK!
Track Name: Duck III (Delivered)

No word by Friday.
Stress. Anguish.
I had some work to do
But I was too depressed and anxious.
So to distract myself from sad-sack worry mode,
I hit the Vista, and watched “Mad Max: Fury Road.”
An excellent and entertaining film in my opinion.
All about life, and freedom, and women
Winning out over death and oppression and men.
It ended. I turned my phone on. An e-mail from Ben.
My heart beat at an increased speed
It was addressed to Ulla but I had been cc'ed:

"Hi there - Zach Sherwin told me that you guys are willing to take our male duck, Brutus. My wife would like to bring Brutus to the sanctuary on Saturday. Can you provide me with directions/instructions?"

Sweet baby Jesus!
I was so relieved we had achieved this!
So overcome with glee to read his e-mail
That I honked the horn of the War Rig
(Which is what I call my Prius).
I imagined Ben's wife screaming down the desert roads,
A cold gleam in her eye, a serene face;
An unstoppable Furiosa,
Bringing her passenger closer to the Green Place!
Nothing more for 24 hours.
I did all I could: hope, and pray.
And then at 4:15 in the afternoon
On Saturday, the 16th of May,
I received one last e-mail from Ben.
I opened it. Read it. What did it say?
Just two words: “Duck delivered.”
What a lovely day.

“Hello Zach, this is Ulla Pederson here with the Kindred Spirits Animal Sanctuary on Tuesday morning about eight o'clock your time. Brutus the duck is well settled in. Everything is going well, and we're just working at getting him now socialized into our group here. He has a bunch of really nice friends up there and is safe, and he'll be here for the rest of his life, and thank you so much for caring about him. This is what really matters.”

And then she hit me up for a donation
Which I gave
And you can too
And if you do as well
I think you are hella super swell.
Give your conscience that new-car smell. that's their URL.
And to tell the truth, well, it really wasn't too hard
Helping Brutus win his liberty. Literally,
I spent less time making phone calls
Than it takes to perform this duck rap trilogy
And I'd like to think I'd have seen it through
Even if the job had been a bigger size for me to take on
But I won't lie: I'm kinda like “phew!”
That I didn't have to rise too high to the occasion.
Being a hero seems hard, even hellish
Even if I had it in me, it's a role I wouldn't relish
I honor and admire but am not at all jealous
Of the Martins and Mahatmas and Malalas and Mandelas
And Mad Maxes. They're badasses!
I'm not; my life's relaxed and nice.
But the point is doing something
Was barely more work than doing nothing!
No taxing task, no sacrifice.
This world is imperfect and it needs improvements
We may not complete the work
But neither can we be like, “Don't ask me to do this.”
It's our job to push things forward
Even if we barely can perceive the movements.
That's what I believe the truth is.
Viva Brutus!
Track Name: Spartacus

I don't battle-rap
But if I did
I'd do it with brutality and heartlessness.
I'd be bad to the bone and brave
Till my opponents caved
Just like the Roman slave named Spartacus
Now if you don't know the facts on Spartacus
I'd be delighted to provide you with a partial list
Here's the history: he's from a place called Thrace.
Which is where Bulgaria is today.
The Romans trained him as a gladiator
And he was great at it
But he wasn't glad he wasn't free
He freaking hated it
No question: this oppressed Thracian
Wasn't destined just to accept his fate, man
He made an escape plan and the plot succeeded
And he was chosen by the band of slaves he brought to freedom
As the boss and chieftain,
That they thought should lead them
As they fought the soldiers sent to accost and besiege 'em
They waged war all across the region
And Spartacus was the kiss of death
To whole lots of hostile legions
Of clods and cretins
Who wound up with their paws, feet and
A bunch of other body parts chopped off and bleedin'
Lives lost when they paid the high cost of beefin'
With S.P. and got tossed in mausoleums
The Romans ought to've beat him
Because the odds weren't even
But though they had the greater numbers they could not defeat him.
And I'm a humble hip-hop comedian
I'm much less Mobb Deep
Than Joss Whedon or Buster Keaton
But if I did battle rap I'd go off the deep end
Commit atrocities you would not believe in
Like an impossibly colossal and awful demon
Scorched-earth nuclear-holocaust emceein'
And it would be inspired by the champion of vox populi:
Me n' Spartacus, two peas in a pod.

Real talk, no artifice
I would throw my foes down a dark abyss
All these sucker-ass rappers who suck at raps?
They're the reverse of Spartacus!
Really! If you spell “Spartacus" backwards
Then it's “suc at raps”
I don't battle
But if I did, I'd be as hard as Spartacus
And you could give my hind part a kiss.
Track Name: Buddha Worm

One day I saw a worm on the sidewalk
Making its little way across the pavement
And I thought,
"Man, it's gonna get stepped on on the concrete...
I need to save it."
So I took out a credit card
And then a second credit card
And used those to scoop the worm up
To dump it in the grass in a nearby yard
It started flailin', fidgetin' and twitchin',
Pitchin' a conniption fit like it thought I was a pigeon.
I watched it convulse and twist and thought,
"What kind of pathetic defense is this?
Honestly, has it ever occurred
That a squirmin' worm has deterred a determined bird?"
And I shook my head as it jerked and thrashed
And then I set it down in the grass. So:

I say "You're welcome, worm"
Both for moving you to safety
And for letting you think your flopping scared me off
Thus allowing you to escape me
You musta felt like a bad mamma-jamma, kid,
Tougher than Rambo in his bandanna did
Worm, you're welcome for letting you believe
You were the Jean-Claude Van Damme of the annelids.
Oh! You're welcome, worm, you're welcome, worm. (x2)

I was deep in these thoughts as I walked on
Chuckling condescendingly
And I didn't look both ways as I hit the crosswalk
I just stepped out non-attentively and then SCREECH!
I barely escaped being struck by a truck
But I was hit with an epiphany:
I had laughed at the worm thinking it could fight fate
But could I control my destiny any differently?
Till then I'd been thinking that I
Was in a different league than the pink little guy
But I now had more than an inkling that either of us
Could be crushed in the blink of an eye
Whether by a pair of Nikes or a bus
Tomorrow isn't promised for either of us
And although we're dissimilar, we're the same, too
Then the truck honked, and I came to.

And I say thank you, worm.
You showed me humility.
Yes, your vulnerability reminds me
Of my mortality and fragility
And now I'm doing what I can to rid
Myself of an ego as big as a gigantic squid
You enlightened me, worm,
You are the Siddhartha Gautama of the annelids.
Oh! I thank you, worm, I thank you, worm. (x2)

So that's basically the end of the song...
But ladies, I will say that I am recently single...
So here's a few takeaways for you.
First of all, I'm kind and sensitive, I care about animals.
Two, I'm deep and philosophical.
And three, I have more than one credit card.
Track Name: Letter C

I did a little gig not long ago
And this dude came up to me after the show
And he said to me
“Hey, you know the only difference between 'rap' and 'crap'?
It's the letter C.”
I thought, “This guy's wack.
That joke's not even a wisecrack; it's a DUMB-crack."
But the memory's a pain in my butt
Like a thumbtack in my bum-crack
'Cause I didn't have a comeback.
Man, I wish I could have hit him with a zinger
Should have served him with the verbal equivalent of a middle finger And now it'll linger forever,
But I've been stewing over what I'd say to him if I could do it over

He'd be like,
“You know the only difference between 'rap' and 'crap' is the letter C?” I'd say, “Are you insured medically?
'Cause you sure better be
When you're broken in half from provokin' the wrath.
And your joke? Didn't laugh. And actually,
There's another difference between 'rap' and 'crap' you did not hit: 'Rap' describes my comedy on stage.
'Crap' describes your comedy off it!"

Aw shit! Oh crap!
Everybody within earshot would be like “Oh snap!”
I'd high-five all around
While the guy falls down in a ball on the ground.
Someone hands him a bandage to stop the bleedin'
And when he manages to stand
I'd say, “Man you just got - defeated!
It's ironic: I shit on your crap joke.
You could say I defecated on it!”
Murder, but I'd take it even further
He'd just be weeping pathetically.
I'd say, “Hey -
You know the only difference between 'defeated,' and 'defecated'?
It's the letter C.”

Sudden hush, like when a skydiver pulls a ripcord
Somebody tiptoes forward, hands me a clipboard
And I let dude read it
It's a looseleaf sheet and it says the word “defeated"
I pull out a Sharpie marker
Narrow my eyes through my Warby Parkers
Like “Watch who you're effin' with, with your effin' ish.”
Then I'd write in the C and he's f-in-ished.

Can you imagine if that's what I said?
If I'd come up with THAT off the top of my head?
I'd have shredded him, knocked him down dead.
But, like I said, that's not what I said.
Track Name: Duck III (Original Pun Ending)

....And then she hit me up for a donation which I gave
And you can too
And if you do as well,
I think you are hella super swell.
Give your conscience that new-car smell. that's their URL.
And thus we conclude our telling with a happy ending
After one tough test of a duck's mettle
And when the dust settled, I considered “Duck delivered,”
And how it means something on more than one level
In the most literal sense, Ben meant
That his wife had brought Brutus to Ulla at the refuge
But, as in “deliver us from evil,”
It can also mean “saved” or “set freed” or “rescued.”
And Brutus was delivered in this way too,
From the version of the story where he didn't make it
And they butchered him and sliced out his internal organs:
A fowl, disemboweled and eviscerated.
I was touched to see Ben write “delivered”
But things just as easily might have differed.
If they'd cut and cleaved and knifed his innards,
It'd be “Duck de-hyphen-livered.”