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signor benedick the moor - whomp! a tale by charles dodgson lyrics

[hook: signor bened-ck the moor]
someone call the doctor this author is awfully illogical
the preacher son is spending his time, guess he’s a prodigal
the town crier’s yelling but everywhere he’s inaudible
no honor student of the school district is illaudible

someone call the doctor this author is awfully illogical
the preacher son is spending his time, guess he’s a prodigal
the town crier’s yelling but everywhere he’s inaudible
no honor student of the school district is illaudible

[verse 1: signor bened-ck the moor]
lions in the jungle who feels an awfully like slugs
while these n-ggas on the street holding signs saying “free hugs”
here at home we overcharge so africa get free drugs
and the sheep playing their lions by doing what lions does
indiscriminate venom discriminate seller of denim
no fat chicks, but sh-t inside i think i am a fat b-tch
waiting for what gender, dysphoria start to take off
eating skinny b-tches with barbecue flavored steak sauce
and a couple homies on the side
sh-t i grabbed the n-gga ricky and give him a sticky ride
call him third-world cause his phosph0r-scences died
just like the little girls and boys prompted by mommy to hide
sh-t, out in the pride all the weak n-ggas get ate
and the strong n-ggas get ate too, eight b-tches that is
this is what they’re made for
i am still waiting on the b-tches that i really thought i had paid for

[verse 2: signor bened-ck the moor]
tommy does exactly as he’s told
from the second he was born ’til the minute he dies of old
never will he make a decision, derision has made him cold
he never learned the reward of beginning his life in bold
but now he fixates on gold and everywhere that it’s sold
cause after all of the bending he fits right into the mold
like the play-doh his daughter swallow, now tommy’s tummy is hollow
the voice is soil and green and tommy just up and follow
re-memories of mama and all the lessons he borrow
regrets that form the basis of all of tommy’s tomorrows
(blessed be the man with no memories)
ignore himself, so he guess he ignoring the sorrow
while he walking home from the mall eating the people-flavored sbarro

someone call the doctor this author is awfully illogical
the preacher s —

[outro: signor bened-ck the moor]
is this the time when the mind is often forgotten
left behind, beaten and rotten like the ones who picked the cotton?

is this the time when the mind is often forgotten
left behind, beaten and rotten like the ones who picked the cotton?

is this the time when the mind is often forgotten
left behind —

- signor benedick the moor lyrics

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