On my nephew Sean’s graduation
(rapped to the beat of “Finger Lickin’ Good” by the Beastie Boys)
Old Skool Seano was dopin’ like Fagin
Born in the reign of Easy Ron Reagan
Forged in the depths of my parents’ divorce
Little Sean screamin’ till his mama was hoarse
Antiques flyin’, turkey’s rottin’
Christmas bells shakin’ and my family’s besotten
‘Stead of being angry and a little shit ranklin’, he was
Growin’ equinanimous like Benjamin Franklin
By the time he was fiddlin’ and groovin’ elementary
Sucka MC’s were try and shakin’ his belfry
But he be deflectin’ with a deft bon mot
Even fifth grader lakers couldn’t challenge his flow
Sean is his moniker, don’t be wearing it out
Named after uncle, the one without gout
Has a sweet hook shot, playa fast playa loose
Comin’ down the lane like a unhook’d caboose
Keep him on the baseline, know your own train line
His long-distance jumpers stroke trifectas so fine
Don’t be dissin’ on my nephew, ya jealous playa hata!
Just ‘cuz you can’t be the master debater!
Give him a country, playin’ Model U.N.
Shit, he’s got Uganda written all over ‘im
Give him a topic – debate all the day
By the time that he be done with you, you think you be gay
Graduating now to the halls of higher rhymers
He be havin’ him the smarts of fifty Robert Oppenheimers
And even though our Hawkeye family legacy’s rough
I’m going back to Iowa City, I do believe I’ve had enough.