The Job Seeker

Lyrics

[Skit] "So we still catchin' a drink after? Alright, how many more have we got? We got one more? What's his name? His name's fucking Sheldon Elvin? That's his name? His real name? Alright, what is he, fucking twenty minutes late? Fuck sake, alright send him in" [Verse] I'm outside the box and sound like a fox Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Wow, I'm a boss I bounce right across the crowd like lacrosse You're found like a cross at Al-Qaeda's mosque Get burnt down! Burnt to smithereens I turn a river red with murks and limousines Alert the mini-me's, I'm hurting women's knees I'm spelling out death, but first I give 'em D Titties bleed when my crew ride through When they chop sticks, they ain't gotta chew Thai food If you do die, what you gonna do, my dude? Gonna tell God, we don't like dudes like you? Haiku's in my tinned spaghetti, I'm Tinder ready But I better keep my finger steady 'Cause if I swipe right now, she might think I'm petty If we meet then she better give my sphincter heady I'm the Yeti of the day, sayin' ain't see me Just a myth with a dick and a great CD If we ever do root then you'll maybe bleed It's like watching Planet of the Apes 3D (No!) You wouldn't remember though Get hate mail 'cause I'm pushing the envelope There's no way you can cushion the bender blow Hook 'em so splendid it took 'em to Bendigo (Woo!) When I woke, my hands were covered in blood Damn it, fuck it, I'm fucked, man, I'm stuck in a rut Might as well go jam my nut in a slut Slam it, just slam till I damage stuff in her gut, yeah What a romantic My name's Ivan, wanna go camping? Wanna throw prams in a Bottle-O's can bin? Wanna mix death with erotic slow dancing? I'm a man of mystery At the zoo with a random chick with me Damn it, Tiffany, hand them bricks to me Bitch, I just wanna make pandas history If I need to go to court I'll go in a robe and sport my yoga shorts And snort coke off some homeless whores I only bought To show support 'cause I broke the law and groped a Porsche Yeah, the Trojan horse is back Ready to explode its sauce on a frozen corpse I'm the type that you won't divorce You're all over me like my scrotum warts—well, I hope they're warts! I don't know no more, I get these rage fits And wake up in a place full of rape kits I hate kids, hate puppies and hate fish I hate happiness, hate rappers and hate this