This is me, technically speaking.

[Verse 1] Vanguard-ed God ran Dan Harmon through a rap filter, and got me Most Anxious Alive, I am top three Plug your controller into slot B, you’re a visitor Your fetish is when they nigger her; we are not post-race with Blacked.com I bombed on the stage where they showcase trap and pop for hot moms Heard I had a lane long ago; it got paved over Flyness comparable to a layover If I blew up, I couldn’t be fixed with your makeover I’m conspicuously pure like a water bottle, spit like Triple H, game over Damaged the quad core, too much porn Not poor, but money only buys happiness, bitch, I need salvation I’m pizza boy., but I won’t eat it if Sal made it I’d ignore the indicator that alerts “YOU ARE NOW FADED.” I stopped lying to myself about moderation Got too turnt off candy, sent the moderator’s family a jizz bottle That’ll teach the fucker for banning me Killed the power drunk, then I took an hour luncheon Locked an asshole in a Terror Tower dungeon On the real, Morgred was a molester Morbid jokes, I troll, and blokes get pestered... [Verse 2] I don’t listen to MF Doom, MFs die and get exhumed to get compared Shit’s unfair; would 2Pac care if Young Thug wears a dress? ‘Cause don’t nobody else care except you Newsflash: Now it’s two dads in the parent group; you mad? Well, me too ‘Cause girls still think I’m some kinda creep who beats his dick to their images Women, it’s perception, stop distorting reality I don’t want your panties; I’d rather have your dildo batteries My Game Boy is dying, my shame is multiplying like Bebe’s offspring I was in class like “Could you do that again? You lost me.” I was distracted by more interesting things... [Verse 3] Thinking you have head lice will humble you Your fucking hard drive failing will humble you I don’t need that, my ego is at a record low My comfort’s missin’; rap doesn’t fit me I’d likely be better off working for Dunder Mifflin … At least there I’d make paper