On My Way To Rap Stardom

My big moment is just around the corner. As soon as I can get my publicist to start spreading the word...bling, bling: RAP STARDOM!
You may, of course, be wondering how a middle-aged, graying, white guy can be a rap star (Vanilla Ice excepted). It's like this: I have qualifications in that I can make different sounds with my mouth, I actually have something of a sense of rhythm, I own a turntable, and now I have street cred in the form of a series of felony convictions. Everyone knows, except my buddy Paris Corner who is a legitimate rapper (having opened for somebody famous in Salt Lake City recently), that street cred is nothing more than having been arrested and spent time in the crowbar hotel. Li'i Kim was the most recent to gain such credibility...who knew her peeps carried guns? Of course, her outfits (or lack thereof) at awards ceremonies made her even more famous. But back to me.
I worked this summer at a basketball camp at the University of Illinois. In order to get paid, I had to fill out a personnel backgound check thingie. I noted that I was not a criminal and, in fact, had never been arrested for any felonious activity. Today in the mail, I got a notice from the university which indicated that I was not completely truthful in that statement. One Jane Somebody included a twenty-five page document in which my name (even though the crook didn't spell it right either time: Darryl and Daryl) was twice mentioned in a list of sixty-one aliases used by some guy in Illinois and Michigan to commit various and sundry crimes. "I" had been sentenced to prison several times during an illustrious career for disagrements with The Man that included armed robbery, possession of a controlled substance, retail theft and battery. Hence, I am now ready to begin my rap career.
I even have tatoos, it is said, on both arms and my chest...here all the time I thought it was hair and that aneurysm surgery scar!
Other things that I discovered about myself thanks to the crack investigators in Illinois was that I had shrunk to 5'7" and lost a hell of a lot of weight: all the way down to 140. The brown eyes were right but the black hair designation was not; or was the race note that mentioned black/white. Mom will never look at Dad the same way again!
I may not go into work tomorrow. Look for me on the street in your 'hood.