Misogynist Hip-Hop Challenge

Ok. Ok. So my name is discordant

Words are my thing and my thing’s not important

It swings in my pants like a miniature pendulum

I tell it to the women like it is ‘cos I’m done with them

I’m not here to pull or to pick off the fanny

I’m 35 years old and I live with my Granny

You can think of me all like a short Stephen Merchant

Another octogenarian molesting little pervert

Clinging to the coat-tails of Ricky Gervais

Which puts a piggy little smirk on his little piggy face

You can think of me all as an accidental MC

With a scab on my shoulder and a chip on my knee

The scab comes from shouldering the burdens of the world

The chip from being crap at carpentry. So girls

Don’t think I’m here to get into your pants

I solve equations for a living so you wouldn’t stand a chance

I know how many titties have been padded in this place

I can tell how fucked you are by counting cumlines on your face

I can calculate how many shots it takes for you to suck a dick

I know because the law of cunt dictates: “If cute, then fucking thick”

And lads, while I’m here – I know you’re flirting with disaster

While we’re both eligible bachelors – boys I’m a fuckin master

Don’t think I’m here to try to get down with the kids

I wouldn’t get too far - and it would be weird if I did

Yo I’m a bachelor of philosophy and a master of the arts

I’ll deconstruct your verse and leave you nothing for spare parts

Hit me back with something any time you fucking like

You can pimp your fucking ride: I’ll pump up the village bike

Frankly I could go on rhyming shit all day and night

But I’ll never get away with it of course, because I’m white

I’ll draw it to a close before I say shit I regret.  But lastly

Poetry kicks the living shit outta hip-hop match, game and set.