My name is Deniz,
I got a hot sobriquet.
They call me the Turk.
‘Cause of course I am from Turkay.

And I am aplomb,
About this rap.
Its gonna drop like a bomb,
And be éclat.

Excuse me for that little,
Mispronunciation.
But all these French words,
Got me be foo payin (faux pas).

These rapping skills,
Are legerdemaaan,
Even when Jamaicans rap it,
Saying “Yaaa, maaan.”

I don’t mean to be,
So stereotypical,
But I have confreres,
Asian and mathematical.

Now I’m not very chic,
Or au courant.
But that doesn’t mean,
My life lacks élan.

My house is at the end,
Of a cul-de-sac.
Where Turkish cuisine,
Is the daily snack.

At this school called DA,
We have some good rapport.
But you pay with homework,
Which is bete noire.

This Caballero school,
Is not too bad.
At least there are no guerrillas,
Like in Baghdad.

But of course…

There’s one part of school,
That has less ennui.
That’s when its time for,
The period of D.