"Bagpipes From Baghdad"

 Ohh, it's music to my ears
 Oh man, how can I describe the way I feel?
 Fuckin' great, man
 Okay, let me see, how could I begin?
Locked in Mariah's wine cellar, all I had for lunch
 Was bread, wine, more bread, wine and Cap'n Crunch
 Red wine for breakfast and for brunch
 And to soak it up and in between snack crackers to munch
Mariah, whatever happened to us?
 Why did we have to break up? All I asked for was a glass of punch
 You see I never really asked for much
 I can't imagine what's goin' through you mind
 After such a nasty break up
With that Latin hunk Luis Miguel
 Nick Cannon better back the fuck up
 I'm not playin', I want her back you punk
 This is Hello Kitty bedspread satin funk
Mixed with Egyptian, with a little rap and punk
 Zap and Eric Clapton shaft brings Abba crunk
 And yeah baby, I want another crack at ya
 You can beat me with any spatula that you want
I mean I really want ya bad, you cunt
 Nick, you had your fun, I've come to kick you in your sack of junk
 Man, I could use a fresh batch of blood
 So prepare your vernacular for Dracula acupuncture
 Bagpipes from Baghdad
 When will it ever cease for Pete's sakes, he's crazy to say the least
 Bagpipes from Baghdad
 What's goin' through my mind half the time
 When my rhyme are blowin' up my
 Bagpipes from Baghdad
 Somebody turn the 'Vacancy' sign on 'cause I'm gone blowin' up my
 Bagpipes from Baghdad
 I run the streets and act like a mad man holdin' a glad
You can be a permanent fixture in my lyrical mixture
 I'm the miracle whip, a trickster
 My signature sound when the tube of lipsticks surround
 I'm bound to put it on in an instant, wow, man
What an ensemble, what an assortment of pharmaceuticals
 This beautiful pill dust in my palm
 Cuticles get residue just from touching the bottle
 Never knew I could remind me so much of my mama
I cut you like Dahmer, pull a butcher knife on ya
 The size of a sword, boy, I'm like the fuckin' Red Sonja
 Get it stuck in your cornea, nice knowin' ya Norman
 You're so fuckin' annoyin', drop the shovel, boy
You don't know what the fuck you're doin'
 I ain't playin' no fuckin' more
 Nick Cannon you prick, I wish you luck with the fuckin' whore
 Every minute there's a sucka born
 Snuck up on Malakai and made the motherfuckers suck
 On a shucka corn
Shucka, shucka corn, shucka corn
 Hit Jason in the face with a hockey puck and told him it's fuckin' on
 Now what the fuck are ya doin'? You're runnin' over the snow blower
 With the lawnmower blowing your bagpipes from Baghdad
In the bed with two brain dead lesbian vegetables
 I bet you they become heterosexual
 Nothin' will stop me from molestin' you
 Titty fuckin' you 'till your breast nipple flesh tickles my testicles
Is what they said, to the two conjoined twins
 "How's it going girlfriends, you need a boyfriend?"
 You need some ointment, just set up an appointment
 Who's gonna see the doctor first, we'll do a coin flip
I just got my one year sobriety coin chip
 When the bad get goin', how bad does the goin' get?
 Baby, you shouldn't have any trouble rubbin' groins with
 Each other, especially when you're joined at the hip
I'm goin' to get the needle and thread from the sowin' kit
 And attempt to separate 'em, and stitch them back at the loins, shit
 Knew the little boy with the chocolate chips, ahoy chip
 Cookie looky, even took me a Polaroid

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