Sharks in the dunk tank, vipers in the garden locusts stole the groceries out the local farmers market All God's critters hold positions some are violent, some are victims each alive is an equal and vital piston I support - so when the piranhas honor New York my daddy long legs dangled and mangled for sport and while I bring in every dink in the kingdom with open wings it all boils down to them shit soaked pigs.
The pigs, the pigs, the dregs of which I'll aim for - the gluttonous muddy stomachs under the pudgy cakehole two-track braniac usin' the food and payroll to chew up and consume every cookie crumb and peso and place a cloven hoof on the lucrative when convenient as the bourbon odor smokers' cough smolder off the C.O.E.B.A. If Noah had the benefit of hindsight on his ship he coulda snatched two unicorns and left behind the motherfuckin' pigs
Goddamn pigs! Pot belly pigs! Punch drunk pigs! Take money money pigs! Loud mouth pigs! Wide load pigs! Let's make a deal...
When all the wolves in wooly wigs have huffed and puffed and blew the bricks the skulls of Brooklyn's cruelest pigs will rain up Fulton's newest kicks as mulish swine of all surrounding counties sniff the gruesomeness we'll pass around the pineapples and pull the pins in unison. I will gladly feed you to the breed who wants you sacrificed No pagan or sacrilege – just bacon for scavengers. I will gladly seat you with the chickens not the passengers Hopefully the crack in his armor spreads to his avarice.
Never that – Wilburs multiply quicker than triples And hunted truffles in fistfuls but it was all bells and whistles. Bougie this and bougie that – war pig or pussy cat Glitzy to the porks ribs had to gold leaf the booby traps. Powder pink, double-breasted mess of mud and money Waddle to the fire to make his stubborn tummy roggle I'm all "I don't really know the working details of your tribes I know that that's one ugly fuckin tie, asshole" pigs
Goddamn pigs! Pot belly pigs! Punch drunk pigs! Take money money pigs! Loud mouth pigs! Wide load pigs! Let's make a deal...
Apple in his mouth, maraschino eyes Party like the butcher boy's cleaver is alive I mosey into sixteen hours of smoke in the misty winter to see the county fair's blue ribbon winner is dinner then dance until the sun has kissed your blisters in the morning as the misery was dormant indignant in crispy portions Corporates fund alarm and they whore 'em Or does he whore to corporates to expand the more important forums for 'em?
Push the mortar pestle past the ordinary orchard when the frilly borders faded is the product mine or yours, pig? Mine, plus I toss a token where I go – directly to the worms who shovel shit and yellow snow. This little piggy went to the market with a target and will subsequently know the armor piercing forks of farmers. Final words for the finer birds taking notes: I dig a chick in pigtails "that's all, folks!"
Goddamn pigs! Pot belly pigs! Punch drunk pigs! Take money money pigs! Loud mouth pigs! Wide load pigs! Let's make a deal...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.