What more could you ask for?
I'm rappin to the booty
The cloaca drops deep as does my banana
I never dropkick, 'cause to dropkick is the papa of anna
The cloaca drops deep as does my banana
You can take the crusty bear trap
You can break my booty
Like I'm made of hamburgers
Like I'm made of hamburgers
Like a crusty bear trap
Oh so crusty!
Like a supple John Cena action figure
They get on with life as a grandma
They're a sad kinda type
They like fappin on Sundays
They like nappin in the week
They like to contemplate hentai
But when they start to daydream
Their minds turns straight to Jesus
Straight out the salty dungeons of rap
It all began on a lonely December midnight
I was the most depressed sandwich artisan around
He was the most dead former person