[Intro — breathy slam] Pop. POP. Laaay-deez. Ee-MOH-shun-uh-lee... available. Individually... WRAPPED. Let’s make some—some KWESS-chun-uh-bull... dietary... decisions. [Hook — punchy chant] BUB-blegum, TRUB-blebun, double the aw-DASS-ity; SHOOG-er rush, MUS-terd blush, zero chill capacity. Hot DOG. Hot DAMN. Candy-coated CONTRABAND. Big TALK. Big PLANS. Little foil... UNDERPANTS. SAW-see proposition, FAWL-tee inhibition; She said, “Stay fer DIN-ner”—I applied fer the POSITION. OH-ver-CON-fident—and medically UN-recommended. She said, “Was that a PUN?” I said— EVERY. BUN. In-TEN-did. [Verse 1 — rush, then stop] She’s CLASS in a SAT-in DRESS; I’m TRASH in a PLAS-tic VEST. She ASKED if I was overdressed; I told her, “Bay-bee... VAC-yoom-FRESH.” Her TASTE is pure DEK-adence; my CASE is pure NEG-ligence. She ASKED me fer a reference—I flashed my GRILL-mark evidence. SWEET disposition, in-DEE-cent ambition; BEEF in a BRIEF-case—no. ACK-choo-ul. POSITION. She asked fer credentials; I read my composition: “Half deli-kuh-TESS-en... and HALF—poor decision.” MUS-terd Maz-uh-RAH-tee, mozzarella pap-uh-RAHT-see; My bodyguard’s a GHER-kin doing microscopic kuh-RAH-tee. PLAS-tic tux-EE-doh. DRAS-tic luh-BEE-doh. She asked about my YACHT—“It’s a BATH... with a Duh-REE-doh.” QUICK with the QUIPS till the CLIPS on my HIP quit; SLICK little DIP—little RIP—there’s the ZIP—SHIT. She said, “You oh-KAY?” I said, “Limited lie-uh-BIL-ity.” My TROU-zers filed a LAW-suit over structural... instability. [Pre-Chorus — wounded sincerity] She said, “Talk DIR-tee.” I said, “HEALTH-code violation.” “No. Be SMOOTH.” “I’m a PRO-cessed-MEAT sensation.” She said, “Keep it CLASS-ee.” “FOIL-wrap sophistication.” Then I struck a little POSE—and VOID-ed my accreditation. [Hook] BUB-blegum, TRUB-blebun, double the aw-DASS-ity; SHOOG-er rush, MUS-terd blush, zero chill capacity. Hot DOG. Hot DAMN. Candy-coated CONTRABAND. Big TALK. Big PLANS. Little foil... UNDERPANTS. SAW-see proposition, FAWL-tee inhibition; She said, “Stay fer DIN-ner”—I applied fer the POSITION. OH-ver-CON-fident—and medically UN-recommended. She said, “Was that a PUN?” I said— EVERY. BUN. In-TEN-did. [Verse 2 — frantic precision] She’s a LATE-night sensation; I’m a STATE-wide citation. Roh-MANCE in my PANTS? More a ZOH-ning violation. She said, “Your PLACE?” “CLY-mit-controlled accommodation.” My BACH-elor PAD’s a SHELF... with MOOD-lit refrigeration. SNACK-ademic, problematic, aromatic, charismatic— She said, “That’s a lot of AD-jectives.” I said, “It’s on the PACK-it.” “Are you AL-ways this dramatic?” “Only when the BEAT is SLAP-pin.” Then my BUN deployed an AIR-bag—all the CROO-tons started CLAP-pin. Suh-DUC-tively SEA-zund; destructively CHEE-zin’; Conducting a MEE-ting... about UH-ven pree-HEE-tin’. She said, “You fall in LOVE?” “At least ONCE every EE-vnin’.” “You ever get your HEART broke?” “Once. Un-EE-ven... HEE-tin’.” She’s COOL with the COM-pliments; I’m LOOSE with the CON-diments. She MOVES with sophistication; I OOZE with OH-ver-CON-fidence. She said, “What are you HID-ing?” “Some proprietary PROM-inence.” My BELT said, “FUCK this COM-pany.” My BUT-tons... formed a PAR-liament. [Bridge — tender; female replies flat] She said, “You got protection?” “I’ve got LAM-inated PACK-aging.” “That’s not what I was ASK-ing.” “Then I’ll SPEAK... to UP-per MAN-agement.” She wants a MID-night SNACK. I brought a—FIVE. YEAR. PLAN. She said, “Lose the SALES pitch.” I said—“Yes. Ma’am.” [Rap Break — clipped acceleration] NIGHT shift, TIGHT fit, MIGHT split the GIFT wrap; WHITE flag, PRICE tag, RIGHT where the ZIP snapped. BUN tax, SNACK tax, SCAN-dal in the BREAD aisle; She said, “You CLEAN up NICE.” I said, “Give me a WET wipe.” I put the DELI... in DEL-icate SIT-choo-AY-shun; The FRANK... in “FRANK-ly, sir—ex-PLAIN this demonstration.” My DAY-ting BY-oh reads: “Exceptional sir-cyoo-LAY-shun.” The FINE print UN-der-NEATH says— “SER-ving suggestion. Illustration.” [Breakdown — dead silence] She brought out the bree-OHSH. I STRAY-tened... my TIE-nee TIE. Looked that WUH-man... in the EYES— my body is ready. Time to slither in those buns [Long pause] Wait. Those are... HAM-burger buns. [Female — flat] Then stop acting like a Whopper. [Male — devastated] That was a LOW blow... to a PREE-mee-um... SAW-sij. [Final Hook — explosive] BUB-blegum, TRUB-blebun, double the aw-DASS-ity; SHOOG-er rush, MUS-terd blush, zero chill capacity. Hot DOG. Hot DAMN. Candy-coated CONTRABAND. Big TALK. Big PLANS. Little foil... UNDERPANTS. SAW-see proposition, FAWL-tee inhibition; She said, “Stay fer BREAK-fast”—I accepted the POSITION. OH-ver-CON-fident—the WAR-ranty suspended. She said, “You’re FUCK-in’ TRUB-ble.” Every. BUN. In-TEN-did. [Outro — fragile sincerity] She said, “You STAY-ing the NIGHT?” I said—“Check the STOR-age... instructions.” Keep COOL. Stay WRAPPED. [Female] And take your shoes off. [Male — wounded whisper] Those... are my GRILL marks.
