Din effects, spiracle asshole, taking shitty Mc tongues to the frozen flagpole   I farted family functions, landing punches in the face of life   I paid the grand three hundred for my beat machine, my body   I keep it clean, by eating vegetables, while you claim indestructible   I made 'em feel uncomfortable by talking about my hemroids   And now my parakeet's unemployed, I enjoyed watching old men   put pens oil all inside the engines, while eating cookies kept in tin foil   I been spoiled, like an underwear that's been soiled by my opponents   When I assemble my microphone kit, most kids are mere domeless   I wonder what they folks did to make 'em think they flow swift with broken focus   Vocals??? are sung, while my guitar is strung, and inplugged to make the hip hop   Pure it's cents up, sure it's ten bucks to come and see me at a show   But when I stage dive into jello you won't care about the dough   But if you still think my shit is wack, you'll get you're money back   And then you leave the show, running into two men with funny hats   They'll beat the fuck out of you and take your wallet out of your back pocket   After that you swell up in the high sockets, then I'll finish my show and go to   The parking lot to meet the two men, who then put your loot in my pocket   I try jocking myself but that didn't work, after I realised that God was   watching with a hidden smirk, I shit a turd that stunk the house for three weekends   Instead of RnB bitches, I do my hooks with Japanese kids      Chorus: Japanese Kid Singing      So Sing it Shitface!   Ooh, I love farting in the bathtub, at clubs, at home   On the road, in your face unload, in your eyeball   Fart while walking on the sidewalk, after nightfall   To the point you spray lights all, despite all the things   That the people might say, I grab my genitals and tell'em have a nice day   The right way, to grab a mic is constantly exhibiting   If I mean, then the MC knows he's unlimited, it's intimate   like water splashing on the coast lines   where I go to town meetings   And on the bulletin board I post rhymes, most times   don't give a fuck about what you telling me   I get excited and crash your third grade spelling bee   and just as a girl named Bethany is about to win my spelling cheese   I interrupt the train of thought by yelling freeze   And when she sees that I'm nothing but a prankster   she tells the teacher, but I proceed to go   And yank her for her title, of third grade vocabulary champion   she starts to cry, I say : that's what you get for tampering   with the wordsmith, with the verb gift   The principal got nervous, when I ran into his office shirtless   what's the purpose of terrorising elementary schools?   I don't know, but I penetrate your brain with entry tools   Narratives from the battletongue   my record collection consists of twenty-two copies of Aqualung   atheling is what I need to rock a venue   I then do some percolating shit on the wheels to cold end you   got the versatility of ten dudes, next stop my little shitface friend   Serves a chorus up from the menu   So Sing it Shitface!      Chorus: Japanese Kid Singing