[Intro]
*Laughter*
Hee hee hee!

[Verse 1: Onry Ozzborn]
Bah humbug, We in control of the grid
Because you haven't got a clue and we do so we did so rid
You of your duties, persist we will
Me and Ninjaface with this AR wardrobe dressed to kill
We best at skill, we ill, we say all our rhymes
We thrill, we drop the jaw like Kanye and Fitty
We off the wall, we fly, we cover the wild
We calm, we eat, we walk, we take no pity
No mercy we're makin' you say Uncle like Shadow
As we twist and turn our cursive like a game of quidditch with an animal
We lost you but we got you back by gradually holding this fort down
Annual, continuous, heads on the mantle
Perhaps you're a fan of trophies, turbo nerds, and pretty ladies
Perhaps you and your man will run the laps comparing babies
Perhaps either is what is needed to complete this anecdote
To fight that squeamish feeling most music be fuckin' leavin'

[Chorus: JFK Ninjaface]
Not even would a burner to the face
Pose enough to scare a crow as Little Bobby
No matter how much the game might have changed
Show no pity Little Billy, give 'em Godly
[Verse 2: JFK Ninjaface]
Yeah, I figured how to style on 'em, fresh dripping Krylon
While plagiaristic peasants emulate my killer flow
Quicker toes to sling the sidearm, these ghosts to me's the bygones
Promote the loathsome demons watch a legion of them grow
But your allegiance to the Skul, could mean a murder to a crow
[?] gallows [?] where vultures roam
From the zenith I perspect the fearing soul, as it appears these humans gloat
The unexpected start to choke on their own ropes and decompose
Ya face feeders, stereo receiving creature
With a pocket full of ether and a roach for Misses Cleaver
Yeah my yeti haskell-like demeaner
Had her acting like it's Easter, dripping wet between her femurs
These common aliens 'll make you firm believers
Turn a bitter melon gold to mortify an Ebenezer
A quarter full of gold to toll the souls to greet the reaper
Here's a thousand skulls beheaded mortals
Take me to your leader

[Chorus: JFK Ninjaface]
Not even would a burner to the face
Pose enough to scare a crow as Little Bobby
No matter how much the game might have changed
Show no pity Little Billy, give 'em Godly

[Verse 3: Aesop Rock]
Uh, What misfortune befalls?
What crawls from the drain? Dissolves in his aim?
Plus awkward spreaders out of spider silk crosshairs
Christ
Cross skip outmoded with the lost years
Far away from puking with facials and unicorn tears
All black storms over children of the cornfield
Marching, Mondays mostly morbid
Within the confines of a sloping forehead
I was into it all gussied up
Play to win and aimed his chins up and up
Belly over belt he put the 'must' in smut
Son of aceline is statistically impossible
Yet never misses holidays and visits in the hospitals
Meanwhile feverishly Windexing his monocle
To study all the missionaries picnicking in productville
Might just recommend a little shuteye
Before we bring the future to you motherfucking Luddites
[Chorus: JFK Ninjaface]
Not even would a burner to the face
Pose enough to scare a crow as Little Bobby
No matter how much the game might have changed
Show no pity Little Billy, give 'em Godly