(Seth Casana; Mikael Glago)      this is for all the space people   who keep the one love   no people who hate people   no bull fecal   to everybody kickin' it since the fetal posish'   we grantin' your wish      I want the volume above you filled with your fist   if you got one, if not, just throw your hips   if you don't got hips, well then you could flap your lips   and if you're missing everything, well then I guess you're pretty hip   to everybody on a robot tip   just flip your transist', say "ohm" to your resist'   grease up your gears and do the twist   like you was sitting at the top of Big Bopper's list   flaunt your creator's mastery of LISP   and use your NLP to learn to shoot the gift   but don't dis your hist' or I'm gonna be pissed   me and ENIAC'll leave you sitting on the isthmus   If you feeling woozy, wobbly, or groggy   'cause you're not used to Earth's gravity   just throw your sea legs in the air   and disconnect'em like you just don't care      Midnight Spaghetti heat it up   Midnight Spaghetti eat it up   Midnight Spaghetti what the funk   Midnight Spaghetti going down      Midnight Spaghetti on the microphone   and Dr. Imani, cut it to the bone   smell the funk of OrangeBand cologne   you could roll with us or else go it alone   Decaf Spoon, all up in your face   gave you athelete's foot in your private place   Dangus Kahn, invade your personal space   y'all try to give chase, but wait, you can't take   the ace of this race, got you sprayed with mace   sprawled out on the floor like these rhymes have been laced   if you pick a fight with us, man. get out your pen   because you'll want to sign our very own dismemberment plan   it pays $50,000 directly to your kids   if I rip off your face when I hit it with my fist   I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast   that's right, I eat pieces of shit   live like a king off of what you crap out   while all you could do is crap out   you get scratched out of the scorecard, 'cause there ain't no score   only how many hor's d'oeuvres you can devour   drinking more and more but only getting poor   because you paid $30 just to get in the door   ten more to park your car down the street at the store   while some punk ass kid tryin' to jack your car door   velour where the carpet should be down on the floor   with ultra-fine girlies gyrating galore   boots, booty pants, bras and nothing more   all the while wondering what in the world it's all for   but your said, "Turn it up some more!"   that's why we gonna play a little encore   see, we can keep the funk alive all night long   even when we play a creepy song      Midnight Spaghetti turn it up   Midnight Spaghetti burn it up   Midnight Spaghetti what the funk   Midnight Spaghetti going down