Hip-(hip)hop(hop) tourist, they call me the hip(hip)-hop(hop) tourist 
they call me the hip, the hip-hop(hop) tourist, 
they call me the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist. 

Some tell me I'm corny and couldn't call this hip-hop, 
that I bought my whole style at the tourist gift shop. 
Would I score and get props if I babbled about guns, 
if I went "Eminem" I'd get platinum albulms. 
If I had baggy pants and a fat sweater 
and put black paint on my face, would cats claim that I rap better? 
Some say whites can't be part of the cause, 
speak of colour... my lungs are probably darker than yours. 

Hip-(hip)hop(hop) tourist, they call me the hip(hip)-hop(hop) tourist 
they call me the hip, the hip-hop(hop) tourist, 
they call me the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist. 

Pardon me, but your palms are surely darker than mines, 
see it's absurd to think "skin" is your licence to rhyme. 
Don't limit yourself, it's all about a dope lyric 
'cause when a mic gets ripped, who gives a [bad word] who's holdin' it. 
Just let your mind travel to unexplorable spots, 
forget them black and white movies, set forward your clocks. 
I'm hip-hop, and if it takes shouting and yelling, 
I'ma yell it louder until my [bad word] album is selling! 

Hip-hop's a ghetto with the gates that they keep barred, 
and I'm the immigrant that can't get me a green card. 
I've tried to prove I'm worthy and loyal, 
my step brothers treat me like a worm in the soil. 
I've had my hand coiled on mics and tried to get respect, 
sweated at shows, perfected my flows, but they won't accept me yet! 
I've walked around, on hand on my balls, bragging and flossing, 
fat chain and a gangster-cross dangling off it... 

Hip-(hip)hop(hop) tourist, they call me the hip(hip)-hop(hop) tourist 
they call me the hip, the hip-hop(hop) tourist, 
they call me the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist. 

I've battled 'til forfeit, but I'm banned like the tourist, 
yet I find pastoral peace exiled in the forest. 
Alienated, they won't hear me today, 
but I'll get my stripes at the end of this shakespearian play! 
Ain't a border I can not get round, they can lock me out, 
but I'ma [bad word] my step-mother 'til she loves her adopted child! 
Recognize when [bad word] to the flow, 
and just keep it in mind like a [bad word] slug in your skull! 

the hip-hop tourist, the hip-hop tourist.