Little Brown Jug (Inc. Ending Tribute)

I got a story that’ll waggle your eyes, I got a burger and a thingy of fries.
I think we disguise our lives when we speak but we show it with what we eat,
and we feed internal demons with heaps of internal shitty meat.
Ronald had a dream when he was sucking his mom’s titty, he wanted to palm
cities, rocking his ball hoodie and this heat?
Nah, man, he ain’t no clown, he don’t need another guardian to hold the fucking
place down.
Ronald, I never got to say thank you.
If you caught me at a KFC, I never meant to hurt you.
I tore down a thousand Burger Kings for talking shit.
Had been lost for words on some Stephen Hawkings shit.
This cancer’s got little kids biting lips.
If burgers kill, then fuck it, I’m gonna die from him.
I’ll fucking die for you Ronald, I hope you understand.
Avoid beef and I’m taking your ass to Pakistan.
See, Ronald McDonald would have to run a bottle shop.
Ronald would unload a couple shots on these fucking cops.
See, McDonalds is the finest china-quality that makes your legs wobble and
lobble and hold it Socrates is least postmodern than Ronald.
Cuz, in a thousand years, you and I’ll be gone but the patties keep flippin',
the chicken is still delicious for living, expenses limitless.
So, why the fuck you eating salad bitch?
See, back in '48 was when I heard of this magic place where the atom bomb
crushed a small country in it’s natural state.
Rebuild itself into a fine little real estate and reeled in any American change
with exceptional taste.
But…
«They don’t understand.»
They don’t understand.
«Little I had known. oooOOOooo.»