Gangsta Schnauza. Sort of.

Yo! M.C. Iggy in the HOUSE, y’all! Let me see ya jump up on the couch! Wag those tails in the air! Yeah…

All the sucka mutts runnin’ from me every night

‘Cause I don’t bark, baby, I’m just gonna bite

Well, okay, then. You go on with your bad self.

I just look at my toy and I make it squeak

All the hydrants thank me when I take a leak

Oh, great. Stay classy, Iggy.

All the kitties cry for mommy when they see me comin’

I’m the —

Excuse me?
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“Ohshit — WELL! HI, ELWOOD!”

Hello schnauzer.

“Um… hmmm… oh boy. Um… okay. Psst, Karen — is he still there?”

Yes, schnauzer. I’m still here.
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“Ohmygod he is, isn’t he. Yeah. Um… Karen? I’m kinda worried now? You know, just a little bit?”
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Okay, stop it, Elwood.

Fine, human. I’d hate for the schnauzer to wet the couch. Goodbye.

“Is he gone?”

He’s gone. You okay?

“Um… kind of?”

Would you like your squeaky elephant?

“Yes, please.”

Here you go. Feel better now?

“Yeff.”
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“I’m ftill M. Fee Iggy, oo know.”

I know.

“Ganffta.”

Of course you are.

M.C. Iggy back on the mic — so, you know, yo. Or something.

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Yo, cone of shame sucka, chewing on your stitches

M.C. Iggy’s in the waiting room sniffing all your bitchez —

Iggy, what’s going on?

“I got gold bling! And I got shot!”

Okay, whoa, hang on there, pup. You didn’t get shot, you got your shots. And that’s just an orange rabies vaccination tag.

“I’m gangsta!”

You’re schnauza.

“Gangsta!”

You sure?

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“What! It took two of ’em to hold me back! I’m gangsta!”

Okay, Iggy, you’re gangsta.

Thank you.”

Do you want your Shamrock McSqueakybear now?

“Yes, please.”

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Good boy.

“Gangsta.”

Okay.

M.C. Iggy on the mic!

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Gettin’ squeak toys in my mouth, I ain’t gonna let go

Make my human spend her money on me at the Petco

All the bitches play bow when I wag my tail

Pretty perfumed poodle playthings and they’re all for sale

All the ladies in the joint, let me hear you holla

M.C. Iggy in the hizzouse with the bling-bling collar!

What are you doing, Iggy?

“Rockin’ the mic! I got diamond bling!”

It’s not diamond bling, Iggy. It’s just a new ID tag with an updated phone number. And why are you piling up your squeak toys in your crate?

“Pimping my crib!”

Well, all right then —

“I’m doggy-stylin’!”

Okay, you don’t have any idea what you’re saying, do you?

“Not really, no.”
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UPDATE: I changed the title of this post; it used to be “Song of the Schnauzer.” See the comments for an explanation.