I been down with Thomas stole him his Crown I promise the flow rolls I'm controlling the sound holding it down
I stick to the Beat like the Nuts who were right "you're a clown" you bow when I frown you lick up the mudd
check it your donned in checked gay-clothes like Scotsmen you're expected to entertain
you're disrespected and lame
my eyes infected with disdain like I was regarding these Harley-skins
I'm throwing sharpened darts at you harlequin





Let's keep it going, sons

next word: coochie-pooping-grooves