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Fuckery Level 3000

[Verse 1]

Dr. Manhattan, tatted atom circa tabaca-ing goer

Circle tobacco ring blower

I'll murk you black. Get sewn up

My work is black

I got diplomas in the back

That are bursting over the sack that I hold em in

Cause its folder was folding over

I know what they been told ya

But since I'm going in again, it's like drop and bend over

Over and over, with no lube

Get that veteran in embedded in yo stools

Yokels, locals

Slow cruise to yo demise, know it in the vocals

I got no couth, no lies; I'm dedicated, focused

Opposite of Bette Davis oculars, waiting for the apocalypse

Strapped with a cape in case I get popular, so I can drop it, bitch

The clock ticks. Y'all concerned with crotch sticks

I'm concerned with moxie, Take your Oxycontin, and your rocks

I'm The Great Gatsby initials, the Casebasket epistle

The last greatest apostle, the baddest damie

The combination of Gladys Knight and Pips in one place

And a Robert Blake fan

I'll keep you in a basement

While chained to a day bed

With the door blocked with a Maytag

And at four o'clock I'll let snakes in

And stand in the door sipping a tall boy

Coors light and giggle in your face then

Sociopath, with a golden flask

And I'll fill with it gasoline to throw at yo ass

And then fill it up back again with some of your pieces

Your liver, your back, your face a bit of your penis

Double hands with a W

Better do whatever you can to cover you

Jean Lang came to clubber you

Pain, whatcha gonna do[Verse 2]

Fuckery level 3000, in jeans and a green blouse

With a crimson stain from a beat down

At a business meeting in a tea lounge

Like "nah I'm cool, please sit down

Proceed" bleeding out

The whole team freaking out, text-ing each other under the table

I'm office space calm, I offer face palms

Comma face balm for after on my dot com; I'm basically batshit

You basic bastard I never pace it

I crave action, I transform like I'll save y'all

But then I stay Ratchet

I'll bash your face in the baseboards of a burning building

With the passion of a pastor passing plates and getting back millions

Dash in a race and abandon smashing the tape at the last second

Then beckon to children on the sidelines who'd all step in and start blasting

Bach, Sebastian, or Rachmaninoff or Handel playing

When I'm candle lighting and man handling I'm saying, I'm classy

Dokken and Sebastian Bach blaring

When I'm mass murdering turned to decibels

Certain to drown the tears, it's nasty

On the Pulaski bridge, trunk full up with the shotgun, shotgun

Tongue dripping with vodka, dripping on my lap on a map of Alaska

In October, in a black dress and blasting Frank Zappa

The consummate top assassin

The consulate tracking after

And flipping the birds to diplomats out the whip

With an Andy Richter mask on

Cause I passed on getting a sidekick

Cause everybody ain't ready to die for this

I'll drive on dialysis, I'll drive over your dialysis

And keep in mind that I don't even drive; I like challenges

Roseannadanna fan, fan of Dan from Roseanne but not a fan of Prozac

And I don't care how you find them

Wanna know what I'm like, fine then

I'll like fine men, smart men, where the fuck do you find them

No, seriously, I'm actually asking you where can find them

I'm into crime and environments that you cry in

I don't imply it, I vividly give you my end

You'll think I'm lying 'til shivering in a lion's den

In an abandoned zoo naked covered with flies and

Strapped to Kobe beef steaks

Ya don't believe me, for Pete's sake

Man, what the fuck do I have do to convince you

I'm the Freeway villain

Kiefer Sutherland

I love when people suffering

It feels like I'm on reefer when they're blubbering

I'm serious

I'm FCC's damn problem, and

At best Tsidi's man problems

I guess could be the one thing I wanna work on

I'm glad that we're getting this work done

Guess i would have never thought to talk, but who knew

Getting this out could be cool

We should totally do this next week

You're good you

You look testy

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