[Verse 1: Dratchface]
I'm a basket case, I die and break through the casket base
Fake, like an L.A. b**h with a plastic face
Got the crowd movin in nastic ways
Dratch bleeds MC's as he masticates
My raps are a ma**ive waste of great beats (if that's your taste)
So I spit it at a faster rate
To try and master fate, so give my a** a break
Don't make me have to take a baseball bat and splat your brains
Dratch a known humblebrag practitioner
It hurts, and every time I laugh, I just miss him worse
I hate that sh**, it's plain tragic
That's why I'm kickin that laid back sh**
And playin Phish like some kinda babe magnet, overnumerous talents
Serious sometimes, with a humorous balance
A slicker dude than Jack Palance in an oil spill
Sometimes a nice guy, sometimes a royal pill
Superfluous, like adding a tip to a moil's bill
Ain't no limit to the time that boy can k**
It's not right, MC's be saltier than Lot's wife
sh** changin like a stoplight in the dark night
Suddenly, me and my friends aren't tight
But I still got Sloth on my side if I play my cards right
Hats off to Dratch, who whacks off and raps schlock
And that's not all, he also lost all his cash in bad stocks
Got all his sh** stocked up on his laptop
"Dude, all of your songs are crap, stop"
I've latched onto this idea of the tortured artist
Like when you're not even happy when you've worked your hardest
It's whack, yo
(Outro)
[Sampled audio]
"Hey, this is Harris, calling from Heaven. Uh, it's pretty great up here. Uhhh...it's beautiful, for starters. Uh, Hitler's up here, however, for the vegetarianism thing, so...callin' bullsh** on that, but other than that, it's pretty great. It's uh, it is very cloudy, uh, and you, you sit on em, so that's cool...Uh, oh! Gotta go. Ice cream buffet!"