Sorry f**ers
I'm at my tittie signing at the Barnes Nobles
You brown-nose but your downloads only show marginal growth
Why do you dress like a lesbian welder?
Only a middle-aged woman looks s**y in elk fur
You get injured at the hipster bar
I hit you with a ninja star and then I speed off in my car
My life is like a day-to-day p**n shoot
You'll mayday for more troops when I say "Sorry f**ers"
See that girl, she's a great lay with her scorched roots
Plus she's got a grade-A horse caboose
That's my lady! I just squeeze her cheeks
While you sit and twitch like a Jesus freak
You're from Hollywood; you get your sphincter bleached
Sit your a** home and eat your quiche
I'm the dude that your girl would be pleased to meet
She'll want to s** me off with those beaver teeth
But I decline the offer. I drive a flying saucer
To perform on neighboring moons
And do the giddy-up with some iffy s*ut
Who's drinking pick-me-ups out of those Dixie cups
To the young boozer, and the drug user
But the syringe on the baking teaspoon
That means play this it'll spike your blood sugar
I'll have your soul mate tied to the sub woofer
Sorry f**ers
You squares f**ed up plus your haircut s**s
Watch you girl upchuck
Sorry f**ers
We get their thumbs up
Make 'em cry bleed, dry heave
Sorry f**ers
We'll extract the b**h in you
Sorry f**ers
And dictate what you listen to
Give them face time with unloved lady's men
Eschewing life through a dumb 80's trend
With a litany of pop culture reference points
My tenor voice will make the women all wet and moist
You act gender bent
While I'm wrestling with women in boxers with leopard print
And yes, that's me arching a pouring gla** at the tee off
Me getting the boarding pa** at the kiosk
Me eating fish with French cream sauce
Be celebrated at the confetti toss
I'm waving from the Project Blowed parade float
Completely nude under my raincoat
While you're in your backpacker entrapments
Battle rapping with a series of gay jokes
You're welcomed to peep game
But when they start riding the jock they seldom deplane
A deceased co*k, a pudding geyser
The hung dong's the swung baton of the womanizer
But for my b**hes it's a springboard
To a place where dreams are forged
And I'll smack these geeky young twerps
Out of their medium shirts