Kiss the Cook

Lyrics

[Verse 1] I puke a worm in your mouth, I punch a hole in the screen I hold my nuts when I rap, I throw my phone in the sea Notice the woefully unfrozen mosey up out of Cocytus Dap his homie, check his vitals, swat a bogie 'til he spirals The golden oldie miners hack a nugget out the river dance Press it to the boogie break, dress it up in pentagrams Wookie face, look I don't panic in the fray, I broadcast all black magic with a K OK!? Late to his own selfies The belly is King Hippo, the MO is Van Helsing The hello is from a portrait of abhorrent man melting Spells out help in his canned corn helping And never pushed mongo, back foot kicking out the larval stage Front foot navigate the marble maze Blues crooners off the usual at Hooters Drag a Lilliputian kicking and screaming into the future [Verse 2] Okay, I wrote this eating tekka maki off a naked lady In a questionable wardrobe for which you can blame the 80's A reference to his adolescent days in basic training Way before devolving into self-deluded naval gazing, um Wakey wakey jaded makers of the Achey-Breaky Heart Feign valor, brain matter wading through the mason jar Stare at the sun 'til he bay at the moon Share crumbs with the drums 'til he lay in a tomb, vroom Cold roll-up on a very clean easel Turn a landscape into unspeakable evil, eek It's un-freaking believable, freakish over fitting in Voices in his head that beleaguer the equilibrium Sit down Waldo, his form is barely functional Messenger of death, professionally uncomfortable And I don't always push all my convictions through the Neumann But you people still defending the police are fucking poison [Verse 3] Blood vessel in his eye all fucked up From holding up the sky all nyuck nyuck My wires all criss crossed, I'm equally happy to rap or get lost Old cro-mag throwing scraps at the sled dogs Yes y'all, death hawking his distress call Horsefly back-stroking through the bread bowl Bed sores, bad hair, raised on bad news Make bad songs you could twirl a bad 'stache to Nanu Nanu, styles like wild javelinas stampeding over Bob Dobalinas With a boomerang, bow, slingshot and ocarina Rock shock, not the property of any knocking reaper All these posers, aggie and un-chauffeured Came to the party like a pox on the culture Flip the rook - kiss the cook