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This year I thought I'd do away with celebrity-endorsed barbarism And to keep the people guessing get a bio-diesel engine to cut my carbon emissions Further my career by trading favors with aged ravers You know, use the barter system But I sat on my black ass sucking on sassafras In my apartment bitching Last year you were posing on the hood of a Lamborghini In Gucci glasses and a tan bikini Dating Meg White, eating tiramisu I was rapping at a test site, banned from TV And in therapy too For pulling firearms out of Jell-O molds With a sinister grin the color mellow gold Running from the Southland PD Pompous posies your party's no fun Yeah whooptie-do You can't offset the OG's cardio-sponge Yeah whooptie-do Though you've made millions off us Yeah whooptie-do This year we're getting off our butts Yeah whooptie-do Mutherfucker Yeah whooptie-do Letras de canciones… This year I thought I'd cover you with a thicket of wet unwarranted smooches Rather than entertain sore feelings at board meetings with these corporate mooches Or being run over by un-sober law enforcement douches It's sensible that I'm a randy-romper, a panty-dropper with these whorish pooches Last year I was passing out Green Party leaflets When you're at the chalet on ski-trips Getting neo-cons all peeved and miffed Heaving and choking on beef-bits Cuz I ain't appeasing shit Wearing tutus and a Bluetooth in a Subaru Yeah you too Can get your knees split, bitch Pompous posies your party's no fun Yeah whooptie-do You can't offset the OG's cardio-sponge Yeah whooptie-do Though you've made millions off us Yeah whooptie-do This year we're getting off our butts Yeah whooptie-do Mutherfucker Yeah whooptie-do Last year they made buoys out of bloated bodies in the Big Easy And nobody liked what the Blowed embodied yet they bit freely Rappers used recording booths like porti-potties being inexplicably cheesy And I'm an out of work hobo at the Mojave with a dripping squeegee This year I'm going to make only one friend This squatter girl at the opium den Checking her viral load, wearing a bridal robe Fresh off her codeine-drug bend Cuz f@#$ them pop divas They need pitch shifters and Brita pitchers full of mixed liquor, I'm a clit piercer Of that bitch nigga that manages you Pompous posies your party's no fun Yeah whooptie-do You can't offset the OG's cardio-sponge Yeah whooptie-do Though you've made millions off us Yeah whooptie-do This year we're getting off our butts Yeah whooptie-do Mutherfucker Yeah whooptie-do From Letras Mania