I'm walking out like CM Punk did in the WWE
I promise you've never met someone as repugnant as me
There's no substitute for me cause I bring double the trouble as thee
I'm a bugaboo speaking in Umbundu
Battling me's less useful than running from a panda up rungs of bamboo
My flows are so hot that I literally cummed on you
Raps so complex that they must be dumbed down for you
I'm turning more gays off to men than a h*mophobe menstruating
"I'm on a h*mo's phone instigating the president of the United States
Aiding in the over-the-phone investigation to have him arrested"
I'm tested often, but if anyone thinks my chest's softened
I'll be the nail on that pest's coffin
I get a similar reaction to Alyssa Milano's feeding with her breasts, scoffing
Let's see how they like it when I jack off, then
I got thrown in jail and I shared a cell with Pee-Wee Herman
But I think they should've called him Wee-Wee Herman
William Tecumseh Sherman speaking German
Because I have more wrath in me than the Civil and the second World War
I got so many points that I broke the scoreboard
Such a strong foot, I fell threw the floorboard
Founder of a rap town, a merrier land than the state with the Delmarva Shorebirds
I'm in a brothel feeding a who*e turds
Hiding from me isn't cowardice, it's f**ing safekeeping
I wrote this rhyme while I was sleeping
And I still have you lying on the ground weeping
I have you praying so hard get away from me
That hydrochloric will be euphoric
I'm literally worse for you than f**ing acid, I'm so rhetoric
All it takes is a clutch on my nuts and I'm already a rapper
This rhyme is more of a face-slapper than if Bieber got in the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame
His music comes straight from the crapper, honoring such a co*k, oh the shame
I'm a lyricism kidnapper, I'm here to steal your talk and your fame
I'll leave your face in more flames than DJ Enferno's last name
Your acclaim wouldn't be older if you went to a ballgame to see Joe DiMaggio
I'm nuttier than a pistachio
I'll do the adagio on your patio and tear off your mustachio
Your lyrics come straight from the john like you're Cash, you know
My sh** list is too long so I ought to boil it
You're wack enough to be like Elvis and get left dead on the toilet
Tonight I'm sneaking into your house and robbing you
But I'm not Dick Grayson
Hell-raising with Jason S**sel, dropping anvils on damsels
You'll ramble on like Led Zeppelin, but your raps are still insubstantial
I'm to rap what Peter is to flannels, but I don't care for the show you're putting on
And I'm changing the goddamn channel
My penis is ample, at least two handfuls
I'm unbreakable, if you baroque me, I'd be Handel
I'll walk on the runway in sandals, I'm still fashionable
Weed laced with acetyl, my flows are too tactical
To be actable, but at the very least they should be taxable
My flows have enough horsepower to lariat a chariot through the Mariott
You're desperate enough to beat me to use a Hail Mary shot
My rap status is equivalent to the rock status that Chuck Berry's got
You have to put up a fight, it's go or die
You need a stroker for your limp dong? I "Noah" guy
You stinking jabroni, call yourself Graham Bell, cause you're phony
God, that pun was cheesier than Kraft macaroni
My flows will leave you more bony
Than a lonely brony having a wet dream about a prostitute pony
Yo, I hand you a copy of The Lorena Bobbit Story cause I'm cutting you dicks in half
You came and tried to rob this glory, and now I'm gonna mix and mash
You up in little pieces and make you eat each other's feces
Sew your lips to your bu*t-holes, like the f**ing Human Centipede, sheesh
Put Kayla in the blend, and you could s** her a** for real this time
Again with that joke, man, I can be a real pain in the behind
But that won't stop me from picking Jerry Seinfeld's a** up in throwing him in a beehive
And a crowd'll start to gather 'round and I'll be like, "This is something you wanna see? Why?
This is literally a show about nothing, bro," evil is how I'm designed
Rap'll shrivel up and die and go to hell the day that I decide to resign
But a dis from me'll leave your face redder than the color of Kayla's hair
Now, if you'd please excuse me, I've got another s** my a** pun that I'd like to share
Nah, I'm kidding, but I'll hunt your lying a** down like Troy and Brent
Like Oliver looking hungrily in Piper's cage, know to never repent
More travels than Gulliver, and you still question how my spare-time is spent
And I wouldn't spare a dime for pieces of human sh** out there that knock it to me
f** respect, Aretha Franklin, cause these bozos out here sock it to me
But sheepherders are flocking to me, everybody listens to Trey
My rhymes are for the dark and gloomy day where everything in your room looks gray
Man, Colin Mochrie is being featured here, yo, dawg, just say what the hell you wanna say
Oh, sh**, but you want me to talk? Whose line is it anyway? Heh
I want to take it back to the days of old when the yellowest thing I encountered
Was Allen when he bleached his hair blonde with some peroxide, over-the-counter
But now you pansies wanna mess with me cause you don't wanna confess that, "Gee
This guy's like the king of hip-hop and he could easily render me
Into a pile of horsesh** like if Mr. Ed accidentally
Loss control of his bowels", I'm the master of these vowels
Consonants, adverbs, metaphors, and my rhyme schemes are foul
I'm capable of busting a rhyme that's so rad and goddamn wet that you'll need a f**ing towel