Brisk

I went John Belushi on ya minibar, that’s a rainy day in hell
Strapped C4 to Jurassic Park toy Jeeps, oiski
Marigold mister re-unearthed
Tally ho stick you in a hearse then its adios
I ain’t a happy host, come to think of it
You can make your own tea, I don’t drink the shit
Peach Lipton’s, Champion cream fitted
Bash the keyboard, map a detour
Quick, pass the cheeseboard rapid
I think there might be suttin in your attic and it’s me
But I can’t seem to see three feet in front of me, wow
Designer spec row, with the tints
Desert Storm fatigue with the Timb’s, minus 24 degrees on a whim
Cyborg sling, pet baby alligator in the sink
Fried shrimp, squid rings, Doris Day spins when I’m shooting
Smack ten over chor, your staffy pop
Get the MAC-10, no remorse
Slow your course, brain cells fire at will
I killed the counter, made adjustments to the private well
I’m a sheister still, pimp hoes on Alan Street
Shits grim for real, moon chicken, mud wrestle
Drink the veil, medium rare with ginger beer
Tough, get us out of here kid