Might as well introduce. this is madness!. this is an outrage. as a matter of fact this is outrageous. yeah young sire slap the fuck out Jon Cryer. rough rider raw bust inside a vagina. like I want kids my head continues to be haunted. I burn a city down while I'm unconscious baby go on. take some quaaludes conversate with Jesus. batting practice with the motherfucking ghost of Babe Ruth. do as a saint do turn painful to graceful. devil on my trails I'm trying to find the Holy Grail. [coughing] Right there. and if Mars is the farthest that man has set his target. then I don't know why I even started. I'm sick of being too nice to people who don't do shit but consume light. told myself "fuck the world kid just do what you like". go and have a food fight start yourself a new life. you're too bright to be inside a bunch of mediocrity. but all those big words ain't gonna get you paid. and those abstract ideas for sure won't get you laid. you got it made in that mad house. what the fuck you got to be sad about? Go ahead and rap now. do what you do best I mean. that's what you do best matter fact motherfucker. you suit vest you need to buy a new dress. I heard you and your girl live in a duplex. I'ma put her ass in a Suplex the sun east the moon west. you got a clue what does a clue get?. nothing. my milk and honey my chérie-chérie amore. my Cinderella in her carriage by the doorway. her ruby slipper made the wizard send the scarecrow. and the lion through the forest. to the wicked witch's fortress where she scorched them in the foreplay. remember that? He said he'd fight the box to see the wizard. when he was visited by Dorothy who came here on a blizzard. now the whole world's in color still. how Auntie Em was next of kin and not her mother. real her face was care-worn. I suspected she migrated to Kansas up from Dearborn. and had beef with Mrs. Gulch since the very beginning of Year One. mr. Candyman the parables parabolic. the poetry's like the poems and songs of Ecclesiastes. lightning should strike the stone and then Moses should make a tablet. the Judge will bang the wood up in parliament with the mallet. and yell "hear hear" finally some order to this rap shit. finally some sort of water to soil these cracked lips. I keep my shit crispy and elegant. so miss me with the irrelevant the god body is heaven-sent. the hard-body is reverence since the son of Byford. brother of Fal every rhyme's halal. every line is kosher livin' la vida loca. shout out to Tony Toca we livin' how we supposed to