Yo! puffle-ruffing in the look-see,
yo shadow be makin' shadow mah man,
mus' be that burger-thick'nin' sickness
can you dig it,?
even the Jap-men be gettin' it,
eat you up to
sumo-humongousness and death,
cells smushed paper-thin,
moisture squoze out dry
as ball-glove leather in winter.
I can hear your medial minisci clicketing
as you dance the gopak, mutha-fucka.
                  Call yo mama get yo sorry ass
                  mutha-fucka
                  ain' you got no shame, man
                  come out here like that
                  all shiny-fat-whiteman-pink
                  like a shoat fo' slaughta?
Get off’n my flow fat boy,
tell yo mama boil some greens.