Whiny white boys perform a not-so-celebrity rap battle


Good morning, Ferris Poo-ler, this is Princi­pal Rooney

Here to say you’re flunking out because your intellect is puny

I can drop rhymes harder than I drop swears and curses

And I’ll knock off your block with my liter­ary verses!

My hunting hat’s handsome and I’ll cut you with my words

Cuz I think your whole franchise is strictly for the birds!


Life moves pretty fast, if you don’t stop you could miss it

I’ve got no time to waste, so I’m gonna be explicit

You’re a super screwed-up child with no character evolution

And you’re the worst damn writer in your mental institution!

Ho-ho Caulfield, pathetic “catcher in the rye”

One angry little worm who’ll never be a butterfly!


Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Is there anything in your brain?

I may be complicated, but you’re criminally insane

You’re a smug little thief and your hair is mediocre

I’d kiss Ackley before I’d touch you with a ten-foot poker!

You call yourself Abe Froman, sausage king of Chi-Town

So take a bite of my wiener, you impudent clown!


Doff that stupid red hat so we can battle properly

First: I’m a better lover than you’re ever gonna be

You’re repressed and awkward, so you’re Pencey’s oldest virgin

I’m so skilled with Sloane, I don’t play “doc­tor” but “surgeon!”

You’ve got the hots for Jane, but she knows you’re a wimp:

You didn’t bang the whore you ordered, but you still paid her pimp!


Yeah, I called a call girl, but you committed grand theft auto

And you’ll never fool me with your shows of bravado

You’re a third-rate friend: Cam thinks you’re a meanie

And my sister Phoebe loves me, while you’re hated by Jeannie!

I can only go up, in ten years I’ll have it made

In a decade you’ll be dismayed ‘cause you peaked in 12th grade!


How’s it feel to be written by a creepy old geek?

Let’s be real: Salinger’s an Antolini-level freak

He won’t sell the film rights, while I sell hella tickets

His fan club’s so quiet I can hear the chirp­ing crickets!

But I bet you can relate to an author who’s reclusive

Since your pathetic social life is equally elusive!


As I stroll downtown, I hear everyone chanting

“Save Ferris,” they say—that’s a wish I’ll be granting

But I won’t save you, I’ll save your whole movie’s cast

From producing a movie with your ugly fat ass!

John Hughes did you wrong—he directed a nightmare

And he gave you a name that’s a ride at the fair!


It’s no wonder that your brother Allie’s pushing up daisies

He couldn’t stand another day with a family of crazies

I’m a legend, on a float belting “Danke Schoene”

While you’re flirting with a housewife on the uptown train!

Your book’s a circle-jerk and you’re a whiny masturbator

I’ve got places to be, so I’ll see you Strad-lat­er!

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