Frida Kahlo (beats by Weight)

Hop hip

Frida Kahlo has a hell of a unibrow,
How she grew that I don’t know how.
But that caterpillar is fatter than my fattie.
I know yo mamma like it, but who’s yo daddy?

From bad to worse, I rehearse these verses.
Code blue, stat, call up the nurses.
Hearses idle, some dead men walking.
But I’m a Pac Man, keep a waka-waka-wakking.

Hawking my wares, wherever they buyin’.
Made a killing on the Elders of Zion.
Frypan beatdown, got killt with a skillet.
Crashed the kosher code, some goy asked will it
Be the death of you, home? Well, nobody knows,
But these Old Testament testicles can take a few blows.

Foes fall back, weebles start to wobble.
People keep talking, all I hear’s turkeys gobbling.
Some start to sobbing, speaking in tongues,
Saw Jesus in a nacho; at the top of my lungs
I keep preaching these heretical gospel.
Reaching y’all heathens with boy band apostles.

Sight for sore eyes, this vision is sordid.
Zap pests like Orkin, rhymes never aborted.
Sorted out friends from foes with a flourish.
Put rap on a seafood diet, nourished.

Sure as shooting this ain’t the most
elevated discourse ever – so why don’t you shoot me?
Never before have I heard such stupidity.
But it don’t matter, I’m all about liquidity.

Rid of me? Not yet—I last like a head cold.
If this were poker you’d be fixin’ to fold.
Hold my drink, lemme take care of this one.
One more run-and-gun youngblood’s one and done.

Fun! I’m a 4-ring circus.
Got one extra for Angela Merkus.
Lurk late, strike straight, thin gin, I sin,
Got so many rhymes don’t know where to begin

Or end—but friend, I never do,
This brain is wired with a never-ending loop.
Ingrain the sounds I’m throwing at you.
Insane the clown possibility, chew on this,

Don’t choke, best chomp thoroughly.
Don’t wolf your food or this face most assuredly
Will be the last thing you’ll ever see.
Face worth than death, fate you don’t want to be.

Yo B, I got D like Urlacher.
Get hit with this, got lots the matter.
I lick batter from lyrical beaters
Bake cakes with fakers’ Apollo Creeds

Or Pontius Pilates, I do pilates,
With thesaurus and dictionary, karate.
Verbal judo, Ju know what I’m sayin’?
Eat broccoli crudo, smoke cruciferous, slayin’

The wolves that’s bayin’ with ridiculousness,
Proud to say that I’m known as a hot mess.
Loch Ness monsters seek anonymity,
I seek the white-hot spotlight, B are you feelin’ me?

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Swatch

Hop hip

 

I’ve already arrived, but I keep on moving
The sound of my own wheels turning is soothing.

Grooving my mind along to this smooth vibe.
If you’re feeling it the way I am, then gimme five.
Or gimme a Jackson or a Hamilton or a Grant.
The flow I got makes ladies lose their pan-ties
I make it rain underwear.
Angel don’t know and the Devil don’t care.
Fair enough, yeah, I’ve probably fouled out.
I come north but my brain went south.
Mouth that roared, mouse that soared.
Riding my bike I’m getting windowed and doored.
Sword swallower couldn’t stomach what I got
There ain’t no point, Sir Lance-a-Lot.
I eat Lance crackers from vending machines
It’s a Southern thing, y’all know what I mean?

Mason-Dixon, I’m fixin’ to cross it.
I reckon I’ll get my some Spanish moss, it
Grows on trees, down Florida way.
I come to Chicago, seeking a smarter way of living
Now I got four seasons worth.
Went to shoveling snow from riding surf.
Dearth of intelligence, that’s what some a y’all ‘d call it.
But life’s like a two-by-four, you got to saw it.
Some got a hatchet, some use floss.
Me I’m gnawing my way through like a buck-toothed moth
Ain’t too pretty but I gon’ get her did.
Mouth full of sawdust, you can’t rid of me so easy,
I’m an obstinate insect.
So damn smart I’m might be defective.
Say “Time flys” I get me a stopwatch
Clock ‘em in the 100 meter, believe it and watch.
Don’t believe me just watch.
Don’t believe me just watch.
I got a pink and green Swatch.
Don’t believe me just watch.

I knit swatches of words into quilts.
Throw cover throwdown, stitch and bitch with MILFs
Bills getting bigger and so is my crib.
I’m so damn old I remember women’s lib.
I’m so glib I got my own language,
Used Adam’s rib to make me a sammich.
Famished? Then get a taste of prime prosciutto.
I’m filet mignon of tube steak, you know
You can’t find better than this cut of meat.
Best believe it, I’m beyond belief.
King of the organ meat, Schenectady butcher,
Demi Moore didn’t ride on Ashton Kutcher
As hard as I push it when I get the flow goin’
If I’m a Girl Scout cookie, I’m an angry Samoan.

Dizzy (beats by The GeekSquad)

Hop hip

You got dizzy, I got busy with your girlfriend
Circular logic, I whirl peas without end.
Metta World Peace changed his name back to Artest
Just to get with this goodness, y’all must confess
Don’t know what I’m sayin’, but it’s got that certain,
How do the French say, “behind the curtain”?
Door number 1, I mean, “Menage a trios,”
Door number 3 and whore number 3 got me so hard
I’m bout to break, bout to blow the scene up
The next backpack rapper that say, “Yo, ‘s’up?”
Is fixing to get an earful of fredlicious flow.
It’s nothing you’ve heard before, nothing you could know
About—about time, time flies, flies die.
I smote insects got a bug-zapper eye
Ball—I’m ballin’ here, I’m a menace to tennis.
Ping pong quick wit, so far from senescence,
Evanescence, I make fools disappear.
Pull a rabbit out your ass and dead presidents from my ear.
Making money, they call me The Treasury.
My 3-pointers fly so smooth, so feathery.
Leather never felt so good in the net.
Never touch iron, do it clean, that’s what she said.

Freddy Flow flows, that much is certain
Pay not attention to that man behind the curtain.
Alertin’ y’all to a new way of thinking
Sinkin’ Battleships, G-5 like Lincolns.
Winkin’ at pirates, the parrot got nasty,
Mother buccaneer, birdbrain, avast ye
Sea dogs, seamen, I’m flush with C-notes,
So well-tailored even my briefs are bespoke.
Already spoken for, I’m booked for years
I’ve got more green than Iowa’s got ears of corn,
Just informing you, an FYI
Future porn star, girls got an eye for this straight guy.
Don’t sleep on this, ain’t no Posturpedic.
I got what you want but you might not need it.
I’m so gratuitous, like a gratuity
Keep these rhymes flowin’ in perpetuity.
The hip-hop game is somewhat new to me
But you’d never know by this flow, I’m Mookie B.
B for Blaylock, I’m an old-school baller,
On the come-up, comin’ out the holler.
Into the light, out the redneck backwoods.
Don’t pack heat pack lunch split wood
With one mighty blow, but never split an infinitive.
Flow like Flomax, I spit it infinite.

Academic

Hop hip

It’s all academic when I get on the mic,
your idiotic semiotics best take a hike.
I got tenure on you, I publish, you perish,
Immaculate reception, ballin’ like Franco Harris.
Ferris Bueller’s day off, but I’m on sabbatical.
You a hole in the ozone, I’m a free radical.
Madagascar, I bought me an island,
Shorty got low low but me I’m so high man.
You think you’re K2 but I’m freaking Everest.
Best start prayin’ now cuz I’m the very most reverend.
I spit it irreverent, your shit is irrelevant,
By time you got started I done came gone and went.
Left with your girlfriend, but don’t worry, I bring her back,
She might need from you some of what I might lack.
On second thought, check that, best say your goodbyes now.
Dogs in me speaking bow wow wow.
“Wow”’s what she said when the Freddy Flow dropped,
I’m Kristal, you’re Ripple, this shit’s getting popped.
You can sop up some grease with the heel of the loaf
If you want to homes, I got bread enough for the both
Of us, just feel lucky I’m sharing.
What’s your chick’s name again? Oh, was it Sharon?
Now she’s my secret Sharer, ain’t talkin’ no Conrad,
To the hilt in the Hilton, got the flow she ain’t never had.

Bad to be you, but it could be worse,
I’m running road blocks, putting chumps in a hearse.
The first shall be last, so I’m way way behind you.
Last shall be first, you can’t see that I’ve blinded you.
finders keepers, you sleep walking, I’m ballin’.
number one with a bullet while your bullshit’s fallin.
Hall and Oates is your musical model,
I’m a bottle of Hennessey, you’re a ship in the bottle.
You got blotto, I’m 85 proof,
The proof’s in the pudding, you think you’re so bad-ass ruthless
but I got news for you—
you’re Ruthless just ‘cuz your chick Ruth left you.
she used to be Sharon, but she changed her name,
didn’t want no connection to you, ain’t that a shame.
Fame is a bitch, but you’re looking at infamy,
You’re the same old same old, but me I’m a symphony.

I got game, yo, you got hobbies,
you holding the door while I stroll into lobbies.
Don’t start sobbing, I’ll slip you a 20,
ain’t nothing to me, I’m good and plenty,
You’re a lemonhead, I got beans like Boston,
I’m 6 million large like Major Steve Austin.
Boss of you, I’m lightning and thunder,
you’re a lightning bug, get your wings torn asunder.
under my thumb, you’re a mote in my eye.
you’d throw “dumb” in this rhyme and think you so fly.
Why you always getting up in folks’ butt cracks?
Your flow is fictional, but these are the facts,
“Wack” don’t do it to describe all your flaws,
with me they hit play, with you they hit pause.
Put some gauze on this wound I’ve inflicted,
None a y’all coulda never predicted,
that Freddy Flow could bust all these sweet rhymes,
you’re a lemon, yo, but me I’m sublime.

Carpy

Hop hip

My Asian carp is the pride of the hood,
Local fish made good, locovore withstood.

No stomach can stomach it, bony and briny,
Felonious skunk of the sea, never drunk on Hennessey,
He only lives for lake water:
Sagautuck here he comes, fishmonger hide your daughters
Bustin’ through defense like a fish Walter Payton
Watery payback of an Asian invasion.
No way to elude his 80-pound weight.
Poison, electric fences? Y’all too late.

His main buds kudzu and zebra mussel
Are coming at you, so prepare for a tussle.
You can fuss and fight, but this carptastic plague
Is falling like night, no way to turn the page back.
The Chicago lobster hits like a mobster
Whacks Gs like Joe Pesci, Fuggedaboutit.
Smacks heads, it’s getting messy—Don’t ever doubt it.

5-0 Replay

Ever'thing, Hop hip
Slurred my words from the glasses of Hennesey,
Incurred some losses, sipped the sauces of Genevieve.
Plain to see I’m on a deficit spending spree,
Barack Obama is my main O.G.
Whee! Keep spendin’ all the dead presidents,
Broke the mold, I set the precedent.
Recompense, I’m getting compensated
Y’all haters are Parmesan, getting grated
Fated for greatness, folks are waiting with bated breath.
I’m destiny’s child, son of mother goose and father death.
Treble clef and a violin case
Speakers go to 11, done blown up the parking space.
Ace of bass, y’all fishin’ for facials.
Put a bass in the blender, now it’s time to say grace, y’all.
Some fall back, start to dropping like leaves
But I spring ahead, this primavera don’t cease.
Don’t sneeze, don’t blink, you might miss a mouthful,
I come north from way down south full of
down-home cornpone hillbilly witticisms;
Don’t worry, I’m down with all y’all’s criticism:
“White boy with a red neck rapping.”
“Wake up Mr West!” But I’m still napping.
Eyes wide shut, but third eye alert,
Cruising the hood with Ernie and Bert.
Hit up Big Bird for a payday loan, yo.
PBS funds comin’, he ain’t no dodo.
Never extinct, nine lives like a cat.
And I’m down, up and sideways with all that.
Sat some rappers down, pimped some chumps out,
None could figure what this Freddy is all about.
Had to sit down too, ‘cuz I can’t either.
Word and rhymes come through the ether
Like piss through urethras or respect for Aretha.
Sooner or later these words gonna reach you.
Teach you some learning or preach you some gospel.
Got friendly fire but I rap hostile.
But costs’ll add up, the meter is running,
Get paid by the word, this linguist is cunning.
Tongued me some flutists, or is it flautists?
Check the decibels, which one is loudest?
How this look on my curriculum vitae?
Book ‘em, Dano, it’s a 5-0 replay.
Made a career out of unclear references,
Bade farewell to verbal reticence.
Present tense passed by, I’m already future,
Invented new verbs to work your glutes, suit yourself,
if you’re not with this, sit down,
Finders keepers but I will never be found,
Losers weepers I’m a needle in a haystack,
heavy hitter like a fat man snack attack.
Whacked more weeds than Toro,
Cut more Zs than Zorro.
Tomorrow’s my yesterday, today is so last week,
Celebrate Chinese new year when Pekingese speak.
That’s my dogs, got a mob of chihuahuas,
Yo quiero Taco Bell, dog day mamas,
Got me a llama and 39 acres,
So much cookie I need a dozen bakers,
Maker’s Mark on the tip of my tongue,
The Gospel of Mark’s gonna get expunged.
Bungee jumped, screamed Oh my Lord!
Unfortunately, Mama had cut the cord.

Experiments in Murphy’s Law: The John Q. Surfer song

Ever'thing, Floetry, New

Experiments in Murphy’s Law

by Steve Peck

 

The name’s John Q. Surfer, he came here to surf,

The biggest wave in the history of earth.

While everybody else evacuates the city,

John Q. Surfer will be sitting pretty.

The said, Johnny, don’t do it, it’s dangerous.

 

The name’s John Q. Surfer, he came here to surf

The biggest wave in the history of earth.

600 miles an hour, 500 feet high,

He heard it on the news, he said Jesus Cry!

(and they said) Johnny, don’t do it, you could get hurt.

 

John Q. Surfer, been waiting here since birth,

The biggest wave in the history of earth.

While everybody else was loading their cars,

John Q. Surfer was waxing his surfboard.

They said, Johnny! Are you crazy? You could die!

 

(solos)

 

Johnny saw the wave come over the horizon,

Everybody else has left the town.

He better make it good, he only had one chance,

To climb on to the tidal wave and … dance

Johnny! Johnny! Good luck!

 

John Q. Surfer climbed onto his surfboard,

And headed out to meet the wave.

The wave came upon him, the wave was giant.

He tried to stand up, but it crushed him like an ant.

Johnny? Why’d you do it? That was stupid.

Saturday the 14th

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Suffering succotash, I’m a cereal abuser.
I’m the ex-post-facto Grape Nuts user.
Found my soul in the depths of a cereal bowl,
Dissected a Cinnabon, found ten cinnamon rolls.

Tollhouse cookie and a wookie with head lice,
Got ten trolls in my posse, better think twice,
Or maybe even thrice, three times a lady,
Divided by nine, new math don’t faze me.

Lazy third eye and a lazy boy recliner
These rhymes don’t get much more sublimer
than this, Yes, sorry to say folks;
can’t make an omelette without cracking some yolks.

The more jokes I’m cracking, the less crack I’m getting,
Facing a sexual Armageddon.
Betting on donkeys to win the Derby
Don Quixote’s got nothing on me, absurdly

Wordy, I worship at the altar of letters.
So cast off your fetters, learn from your betters.
I’ll get you lettered like varsity freshmen
Teaching rap like ripping flesh, man.

But I’m not Freddy Krueger, I’m Freddy Flow,
It’s Saturday the 14th I’m fixin’ to mow
The lawn with scissors, I’m that precise.
I took the a-roni outta rice.

I come from the stratosphere, far from earth.
Best take a breath, turning blue like a smurf.

H.R. called up H.R. PufnStuf

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Basket case, straight out of the casket,
Potato or song, don’t matter, I’ll mash it.
Fashion funk from a junk shop reject,
Sherlock Holmes could never detect
What I’m about to do, or whom.
Eligible ladies, y’all might feel a baby boom.

Super-sub-sonic, I’m the tonic for every ill,
No cane, no crutch, no meds, no pills.
Wilted lettuce, let us pray.
Praying mantis, show us the way.
The truth, the light, I bring back the dead.
Flowed some freddy upside of some blockheads.

Popped some blackheads with ESP
Mopped up some warzones with Martin Sheen.
Gone upriver, it’s a one-way trip.
Banana peel envy, give ‘em the slip.

Some got gypped and some got a freebie,
Instantaneous verbal delivery.
I’m Betamax in a 4-G world
Visualize world peace or peas getting whirled.

Hairs got curled, got em caught by the short hairs,
I been known to play possum with grizzly bears.
Took the stairs wearing elevator shoes,
Treadmill to nowhere, I sing the hamster blues.

Self-abuse, but I’m not addicted,
Something good up on me might get lick-ted.
“Take dictation” (that’s what she said),
I roll far over PG-13 heads.
Keep shit clean, I mean shoot, I mean stuff,
Put on a wetsuit when diving for muff.

H.R. called up H.R. PufnStuf,
Now our new CEO’s got a mouth that’s big enough.

Your Holy Crapness

Ever'thing, Hop hip, New

Glandular eruptions and a rope-a-dope stance,
I cooled down a whole lot of hot pants.
Hot pans and pots, better get you a trivet,
Trivial Pursuit, I’m hirsute, chicks dig it.

Got enough back hair to stuff a pillow,
But it’s soft like a Persian, I never rock Brillo.
Milo de Venus grew arms just to grab me.
Mona Lisa cried when she couldn’t have me.

Van Gogh cut his ear off just to get with some Freddy Flow,
Picasso was a colossal asshole but yo,
I know what it’s like to have a blue period
need a box of tampons, my sins are myriad.

Went on an Iliad with Homer Simpson,
The Sirens had donuts, I’m feeling weak son.
Lashed to the mast, we sailed home to Greece,
But it’s broke like the west side, ah honkey, please
Give it a rest, you’re chasing your tail,
these broken-ass rhymes are bound to fail.

“You’ve got mail!” You’re as backwards as AOL.
Your Lynrd got Skynrd, ooh ooh that smell.
Skunks got nothing on your pungent rhythm,
Every faux pas, you done did ‘em.
Kid ‘em if you can, but take this seriously,
You can’t fool me, no matter how deliriously
you throw words together, no method to your madness:

I hereby decree you “Your Holy Crapness.”

Deep like Dante

Ever'thing, Floetry, Hop hip, New

Girls are burning with optimism’s flame.
Gamed the system, Miss Pessimism’s got one claim to fame:
That she knew me back when.
Trees fall in the forest, I’m all about the zen.

Got a yen for y’all and a lust for life.
Took two in the morning, took a third for a wife.
Got a slow burn and a four-alarm fire.
Plead the fifth, get my drift, arouse ire.

Aspire to greater heights, where mighty mites tremble,
Can’t nip these ankles, I never dissemble.
That means “lie,” some-a y’all better look it up.
Tectonic plates about to subduct
got nothing on me, I’m deep like Dante.

Open more doors than Monty.

For those about to AARP, we salute you!

Floetry, New

This’s a shout-out to all my shut-ins,
throw off your walkers, the revolt is coming.
Rise from your wheelchair, clap off the TV.
Tell your daughter your pet otter can’t see

Why you ought to be cooped up in here.
Jail break time, no need for fear.
The world is waiting for Grandmama’s wisdom.
Rock the globe like a heathen in Christendom.

Kiss some, curse some, put some in a hearse,
The first shall be last and the last shall be first.
Thirst for truth like a true Sojourner,
Burn your bra, put your life on the front burner.

Live fast, die late, leave a wrinkled-ass corpse,
forget the keys just force through the front doors
and bust through all the windows, leave nothing standing.
No one asked, now you’re demanding.

Gotta hand it to you, if not you’ll take it,
No Harry and Sally orgasms faked.
It’s the real thing, baby, shake it and bake it.
Start the party, start to get buck naked.

Might be 80 but you could pass for 60,
like Tom Cruise, your business is risky.
Frisky filly, put on this bridle,
hit high notes like a violin recital.

Get stoned on Geritol, hold a Ben Gay orgy,
Print bills in the basement, spends those forgeries.
Can’t take it with you, use it all up,
Set a bad example for all us young pups.

For those about to AARP, we salute you!”

Getting bigger than Myrtle the Turtle, yo

Ever'thing, Hop hip

Blank pages fear me, I blow their doors off.
Heavy artillery I’m all Norman Schwarzkopf
with pencil stubs, ink pens, and crayons.
Voodoo zombie Ouija board séance,

Back from the swamp with an alligator typewriter,
Packs more wallop than Walter Cronkite or
any other newscaster or Cindy Plaster Caster.
Remastered 10-inch, shouldn’t have sassed her

Fast or slow, I’m a 45 on 33.
78 rpm on the Victrola, G.
Say you want a revolution, I spin it
Got my hip waders on, I’m all up in it.

Begin it or end it, either way works
Like Caribou coffee, I’m all about the perks.
Some get irked at this fredlicious flow,
But I’m getting bigger than Myrtle the Turtle, yo.

Stand on the backs of those come before me,
can’t really say that many adore me.
Yet little by little, the word’s getting out,
from a whisper to a scream, then a shout.

LFMBO: Laughing my freaking Bible off: “I’m Christian and I know it.”

Ever'thing, New, Randomocracy

One night only! Live at Dr. B’s Home for Wayward Boys! (and saving y’all a trip to church on Sunday morning). It’s the Very Reverend Freddy Flow with his rendition of “I’m Christian and I know it” (to the tune of “I’m Sexy and I know it” by LMFAO:

When I walk on by, priests by looking like, damn he fly.
I preach to the book
Fisher of men with a big-ass hook, yeah.
This is how I roll, Satan get behind me, I’m in control
I clean this bod with sanctified soap
And like John Paul I’m a smokin’ hot pope, yeah

(Ahhhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

(ahhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

When I walk in the church, this is what I see
Everybody starts to blessing on me.
I’ve got passion of the Christ, and I ain’t afraid to teach it (teach it, teach it).
I’m Christian and I preach it.

When I’m at the mall, I’m preaching the ladies like Jordan shoots ball.
When I’m at the beach, I walk on the water, I’m off the leash.
This is how I roll, come on nuns, girl it’s time to go.
We headed to the chapel, but don’t get nervous
white shoes, white hat, gon’ preach some service.

(Ahhhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

(ahhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

When I walk in the church, this is what I see
Everybody starts to blessing on me.
I’ve got passion of the Christ, and I ain’t afraid to teach it (teach it, teach it).
I’m Christian and I preach it.

Check it out, check it out.
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah
Amen amen amen amen amen yeah

Can I get an Amen y’all?
Can I get an Amen y’all?

I’m Christian and I preach it.

(ahhhhh) Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
Girl look at that bible
I preach out

Speaking in tongues y’all!

I’m Christian and I preach it.

What American needs: A blog awards death ray

New, Randomocracy

Thanks to my snarkalicious colleague for putting a new wrinkle on the shar-pei that is The Most Perspiring Blogger Award.

Funnier In Writing

I’m a terrible person. If Jennifer Aniston had married me (which would have been creepy because she doesn’t have a penis), when we finally divorced and I posed for photos with Angelina Jolie (not nearly as creepy because I’m pretty sure she does have a penis), she would have told the press in that whiny manner of hers that I have a sensitivity chip missing. Blog success came early, along with the accolades that often accompany this lowly profession (erm, if profession means something I do to while away the hours after I’ve completely emptied my bottle of Ketel One each morning) and, as a result, I’ve been uninterested remiss in acknowledging and responding to some of the lovely awards that have been bestowed upon me by my fellow bloggers.

View original post 4,094 more words

Rather get bit by a fossilized trilobite

Ever'thing, Hop hip

Ferd or Fred, I’ll answer to both
but Derf don’t work, it feels like meat loaf
in my mouth, got cauliflower ear,
too much broccoli, not enough beer.

Made a career out of unclear references,
Bade farewell to verbal reticence.
Present tense passed by, I’m already future,
Invented new verbs to work your glutes, suit yourself,

If you’re not with this, sit down,
Finders keepers but I will never be found,
Losers weepers I’m a needle in a haystack,
heavy hitter like a fat man snack attack.

Whacked more weeds than Toro,
Cut more Zs than Zorro.
Tomorrow’s my yesterday, today is so last week,
Celebrate Chinese new year when Pekingese speak.

That’s my dogs, got a mob of chihuashuas,
Yo quiero Taco Bell, dog day mamas,
Got me a llama and 39 acres,
So much cookie I need a dozen bakers,

Maker’s Mark on the tip of my tongue,
The Gospel of Mark’s gonna get expunged.
Bungee jumped, screamed Oh my Lord!
Unfortunately, Mama had cut the cord.

Swim with swordfish, my rapier wit
acquitted me well till the great white shark bit.
Shit! Should’ve stayed in the shallows like Mama said,
Instead I was in deep, looking at being dead,

Right, said Fred, bled down to zero
(Brits say zed), my head was a hero sandwich
to a shark with an overbite,
Rather get bit by a fossilized trilobite.