Well look what the cat dragged in, uh, is it well, is it hell Aww let him play in his wittle tiny-witter tway, oh well. He’s a little pussy, sorry, sue me, excuse me, Reuse the punt, he’s nothing short of a cunt, believe me. You don’t like truth, then disease me, so ruthless, more like the bad tooth in Lex Luthor, believe me. Please, I’m the Joker, just a little bit goofier, Still sharp enough to gut a rumour and a room of ya. And I’ll remain like this till I’m sober, and that won’t be til October on another planet hung over. lookin over ya shoulder, Like a cobra, strike with the venom but I’m colder, And when you older, don’t ever say I never told ya. 'Oh leave him alone, that’s his little weenie friend' Wittle it down, Don’t belittle me, oh, little me again. Meanie then, why would you say what you didn’t mean-y then? Believe me when, I say im your wicked shitty meanie friend, Witty and equipped with many reasons to re-offend I don’t pretend, never needed to my pretty friend a pitty, coz when it ends is exactly when it starts again (i put the ‘E’ in end bitch) Don’t minimoke me, your provoking, And there you go again with your pokin, the way you keep spitting on me gotten me soakin the joke king had me laughin till am chokin Keep it low-key, not me, I’m explosive, Find you hangin freely in the open like a motive. Oh well, left to stare well on the stairwell, Maybe the cellar’s a better place to send yourself to hell. That’s where the devil’s at, yep, I heard him, Talking all turds with his herd of vermin. This is why you resent me, Last week you swore to God that heaven sent me. My words vernacular, numbers i never remember So I learn to go backwards in a world of algebra Lemme count like Dracula, bite ya, then eat your brain with a spatular. then id count-a one-Mississippi… two-Mississippi… three-Mississippi… four (what you count like that for) because im 32 but my brain is four Take in all your knowledge, eat your hippocampus raw, all blended like porridge Then I creep through ya door, the mess still on my face and all looking for the missus, some sinister shit crawl Or even sister shit, or mister, whichever’s the nearest hit (bitch) Up the stairs is where I flip this shit, A mister whippy but its dripping and im swinging it Like some finger-lickin chicken shit, cumin as I hit Lips dripping just keep sipping it Sour-cream dip, better lick it quick, Sick of me im gonna stick with it, sadistic, ridiculous twisted shit, The names Jesus, but when I rise again, Call me Lazarus, but I come back stranger than a platypus But go extinct because im nothin short of ridiculous You’re a weirdo, yeah, but thats who they fear, though Its all delightful, im just saying shit because im spiteful While you’re layin’ bricks I’m building towers like Eiffel. Don’t minimoke me, your provoking, And there you go again with your pokin, the way you keep spitting on me gotten me soakin the joke-king had me laughin till am chokin Now the third verse it don’t get worse than this, my skin blistered, brain twisted like an exorcist’s wrist. Taking the piss? I’ve never been so serious, Digging through my wisdom, every last wish delirious. It’s apparent I’ve been invisible, semi-transparent, Now I’m tearing through the cracks, voice sharp, incoherent. There’s a rodent in your house and it ain’t no mouse, It’s me in the shadows, stringing gallows in your spouse’s blouse. You didn’t see me then? You should see me now, “Holy cow, he really changed his ways, ain’t he, wow. “He used to be attractive, now he’s faint and dainty,” Yeah, lil’ fucker was a saint, but lately… Been sucking dick with Satan, then spitting in his face, son, Hissing in the flames while the babies getting names done. Fingering leave your orgasms lingering, Nails in your back while the choir starts sing-a-ling. I’ll have you swinging for your sins in a minivan, Any man who peeks gonna sink where the rivers ran. Skin peeling, grin sealing, nailed to the fix, then ima fuck the ten commandments with ten hard dicks. (You are ill, bruv…) Nah, I’m just a psycho killer in a thriller that you laughed at, Like Ben Stiller playing Jason on a Thursday when I’m half-jacked. All cracked, should’ve never left the ball sack, but oh dear, now im here and its all whack.
