Shit's faker than a voice soundin' through a telephone.
i got chicks runnin to me like i got a magnet as cologne.
but i don't know what the hell they smellin' on,
cuz i aint bathed since june, 2001.
i got fumes comin outta my long johns,
i turn shit colors, can turn a mit into a pair of palm palms.
get ur ass screamin like a star wars ton ton,
feed ur desire like a chocolate bon bon,
u don't know where the hell i'm at, i'm long gone.
so grab a tom tom, or a gps from ur i phone,
and sooner or later u'll find Waldo,
in the mall no... clothes on so....
watch where u go, cuz he's a stalker with a package for u.....
meh, just writin stuff, it's late.
