It's too intense - and I'm a hippie,
Where as you you just affect the most effective way to get in line
Behind all the other stoners doing time which is fine -
But your making me look bad,
'Cause hips a state of mind move on never washing the dreads you got
At your local salon yokel posing with Bob driving a van that's leaking
Oil screaming about Babylon your just a fad,
And it makes me sad to see you miss the point so profusely,
Coming in my store smelling of herb so obtusely get a brain and camoflauge
So's to avoid the demon claws of simply being a statistic.
I'm idealistic and masochistic but at least I ain't a trustfund dipstick
So chill, and find some other way to go and try and be ill.
I'm Amadeus, that's fucking Mozart, and my words are a symphony compared to that spittle you just dribbled out your three inch mockery, your mocking me trying to put a pox on me talking about my momma like she yours? Man is my fault she was on her knees always trying to match your pastel socks and drawers, lubin' herself up so she could wax the handles on all your doors, now your pants are on the floor and your trying to play with the dog, 'cause your dad and grandma are out back with the goat and a midget trying to snog man now I got you, a metaphoricall lyrical vice, a device I put peoples heads in when I'm trying to squeeze out both their eyes, so do us a favor and go back to stickin your dick in your mammas flesh warm apple pies. You got me so pissed off I'm foaming at the mouth, like the rabies your girlfriend gave you trying to south on you, your bloody tool, never fuck with an Irishman you mother fuckin fool, 'cause all that Jameson has made me famous son in the circles I run in, and I'll feed you to my potatoes you ever talk about my mom like that again.