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training season - beetlejuice lyrics

[verse 1: king caexar]
flow memento son, throw momentum gun
tougher than retrospection session with sammy jenkin son
rougher than tobacco teeth
indeed keep a rotten mouth and swollen tongue
we ready meet so let armageddon come
skull cramped like damp c-nt at the time of the month
built to meet demands so hands stick out like keloid lumps
juiced to glands like weightlifter when steroid pump
eventually succ-mbs, born sinner so satan trumps
samsara calms asian monks
stigmata on the palms of jehovah nuns
life runs phenomena that’s ample like bukkake c-m
drunk apache some, sake rum
the mind and body one, waving that emblem
its hard to picture like motion in photo alb-m
spitting anthem that the slums and grotto sanction
deluxe touring sanctums, exploring abyss like prison rapist wrecking convicted rectums, professed sadist
carve victims with grave weapons
moving with the type of hunger that
starve victims in ghetto slums, gluttony hunts
d-ckens left pockets picked but not for bread crumbs
a moral twist the pharaoh tricked and then some
at-least mention, albert streaming from the next dimension
with these quadruple meaning metaphorical puns
abusing blunts so the brain numbs on these suburban chumps i’m leaving caps dunce
raps with more nuts than jock straps full of scrotum’s
the demon with enough semen
for delighted females with blighted ovum’s, sighted omens inukshuk’s and totems, actually spin nun-chucks at ronins
deluxe sol shine flux at romans, if push comes to shove then i’m down to scrum, swinging swords and spiked bunts
leaving cuts deeper than hibernaculum of desert runts
(this game is harder than) circ-mcision with blades blunt precision of magnums, don’t even shoot blanks with cap-guns viewer discretion, shit is gut wrenching
like c-section on petite madams, unique talents
walks the thin like circus freak stunts with speed and balance
encounter the jealousy of vulgar sc-m
yo they full of the bullshit like pamplona runs
my heart beat longer than sapporo drums
so hopefully i’m worth the sum when
tomorrow comes up like vomit and regurgitated chunks
from bulimic punks who weigh as much as hamburger buns

[outro: fat albert]
ah shit…shit….

- training season lyrics

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