SuperFudge

This is the motherfucking coathanger revolution Put up your fists and ring the bell for the first round In the champions corner, spookytooth reigns as the coroner Speak these words into your skull I’m burrowing I’ll slice and dice my jurrasic-era thesaurus tongue to better articulate your deathdrum before people start to question why my songs are so complex Vultures pick my innards from the Emergency Room dumpster and cling to the crisp lungs Cooked until the kettle called me black I mean white (You mean black right?) Nah I mean white (Riiiight) Two lefts don’t make one So I sculpted my own sanity to succeed where parental programs failed and crashed my hard drive Um?? I can’t ever understand this motherfucker spooks, man I can’t ever understand why you’d leave your life in the most transparent of hands I can’t ever understand how to play ball without a game plan Two hands clasped and shaking as she’s praying at the table for introverted offspring to accel at all he’s able to and I just might cut this line short I might scramble your mental eggs until you can afford to call for technical support (Let me jog your memory!) Let these elitist hiphop lovers continue not to start feelin me I hope the twisted end of your disco sticks stay lodged between a rock and my album case so when you need a cane to hold you straight you look to me as the patron saint of patron saints Fuck you, pay me The S P -double O Key is amounting aggro to gold bars and sparkly cursive and perserve invasive lettering Better me Whether or not you’re ready for the heavy petting weathering Lather me in leather and shotgun me to the sun I wanna be the brightest light in a room full of sound so visually upsetting that you feel threatened when I come around Now put it on the breaks for just a second You connect your cheetah prints to fake leopards and can’t cut straight to the difference when the saw is warm I’m fucking delicious Take two of these and call me if your sickness quickens Splash acid on your grave Bone Marrow melter Blast down the door to your comfortablilty bomb-shelter Attack without remorse Remorse without defense Defend without aggression Pick apart your strategy until you’re down to clown with getting rid of me Don’t get me inversed man I still wanna hear the birds sing But the choir forgot their voices at home Still dangling from the noose because they’d rather make 50K a week than operate their loose lips Passion over Mansions Lets analyze all outcomes for when your money leaves you stranded Passion over Mansions Lets row these paper boats to the sewers Better off dead than disingenuous Passion over Mansions