Big 'Ole Critique on Thursday.

Like, they're totally gonna critique me.



Don't they know I'm bringin' it with Pee Pee Lungs?

None of this shit's done yet but I got two or three days . . .









I used to say, fuck it
Wouldn't placate the functionaries
To busy making playdates with buxom secretaries
but I hope that my homies don't laugh, my choreographed dance steps
Are a little effeminate for a sociopath
We've been airbrushed so much we look like a claymation zoo
I'm a voice over on your Playstation 2
But in my hey-day my ethical fiber would turn stages into firewood









My daily commute ends with a fender-bender
Cuz no one acknowledges my ten-year tenure
I've got the know-how the thrill your scene
But they want someone lowbrow, a philistine
With iron-on irony for Viacom's white honkies
They'll send you a girl wearing tight thongs under nylon gi's
"let's all hit!"
but I'm not for the gaudy gangbang
the thought of it turns my member to a soggy plantain
and shit, I get off on news leads
and you eat pet mouse meat,
set and poised with sex toys
in your penthouse suite believing you're Lou Reed
I spit used reeds out the wet mouthpiece
Even when sex appeal is taboo, electric bills are past due
My head is clear of engineered, election year snafu



That's right, I said "Pee Pee Lungs!"