I'm at the dinner table munching on a sinner's fable.
I spin the dreidel on Hitler's corpse in a Winnebago.
No jumper cables, I'm charged up
like a Starbucks large cup.
Going bar for bar,
I might just tar and feather your carcass.
Well I'm sniffing stardust, I'm a cook.
You look like rust on a coupe.
You look like pasta fazool.
I got your life in a spoonful,
stick a knife in your tombstone.
I'm dressed in all black but know my psyche is two-tone.
Yo, now let's bring it back to that boom bap
cause I'm kind of fed up
with this saturated, fabricated buffoon crap.
Yeah, just give me the microphone, I'll show you how I do it.
When the dog is on the loose
then all your tunes are getting boot-ta-dooded.