A collection of rhymes by White Grape Game that touches on a shit ton of taboo subjects from war to racial slurs.

Lyrics:
I say I'm classy.
They say I lack class.
Mother fucker I Skipped it.
Smoked weed under the under pass.
All the hearters hate
Guess that makes some sense
If they didn't they'd be hypocrites 
and hyper tense.
I try to drop some rhymes
But they all just break.
Fragile written on the side just in case
So I sweep em up.
Glue em piece to peace.
Something that they really lackin' in the Middle East.
Israel is pissed.
They ain't pals istine.
So they snatched their land
said fucker this is "mein".
Threw up a heil five
to the USA.
We ignore the truth right to this very day.
Now for some domestic shit
Now I've got a word.
So kids listen up
Cause it ain't the bird.
It's that nigger word.
Woah that r was hard.
Just like at the beginning of the word retard.
They say I cross the line.
Mother fucker I erase it.
Mother fucker I ain't racist.
Mother fucker you're the racist.
Niggers just a word.
It's all about the use.
But what about slavery?
Don't give me that excuse.
I use it as a joke.
Yeah I know it's dry.
Kinda like this crumpet.
No tea party for this guy.
Call me out of touch.
Call me what you want.
I'll be callin all yo' girls sexy sexy hott.
They be callin back.
Nibblin' on my worm,
Bitin' on my hook.
I'll make that fishy squirm.
From walkin on her rug.
We'll both share a shock.
I'll blame it on the static.
She'll blame it on my cock.
Guess I should have just taken off my socks
Mr. Kiedis, oh Tony, he knows I rock.
Sock is on the cock.
I've got my cock in socks.
Teddy Geisel he knows just how I talk.
I've been hearin' word
Of another war.
Lost a drone in Iran.
Still doesn't even out the score.
We took democracy.
Ran it out their door.
back in '53.
Mossadeq no more.
And we wonder why they hate the Western world.
It's cause we police the world.
Bitch this ain't our world.
But the neo-cons, they are out of touch.
Save the fetus so they can eventually throw a punch.
You call me liberal loon
I simply call you out.
Don't just generalize when you don't know what I'm all about.
But enough polititalk.
I'm done droppin rhymes for now.
I don't wanna empty Da-chau.
Enough genocide for now.
Word...
To your mother.
Or your father.
or your mothers and fathers.
or your foster parents.

White Grape Game

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