How They Get It #1 Of A Series or Hail Satan.
SEE, IT'S FUCKIN' INTERACTIVE!! YOU CHOOSE YOUR OWN TITLE. THAT IS SO MOTHERFUCKIN' 6TH GENAFUCKINRATION.
yeah, remember how I told you how that Kazhak gypsy told me my fate? Well, there was a bright side to learning the boring truth. I also learned th' fate of some other folks. That's why I'll be bringing you these revelatory snippets 'bout the fate of certain LITTLE RAPSCALIONS in coming days.
Let's start with these three chocklit starfish, shall we? Check it:
Fuckin' Makakastein! George Makakastein!
April 12, 2007: A delicate procedure to reattach fuckface's foreskin (rebuilt from forehead skin) goes wrong and his pecker gets infected and his brain melts like a fucking Hershey's kiss in a hooker's hip pocket. Sssquish.
And no, he ain't a fucking Senator when it happens in case you're curious. And th' fucking Lotto number is 1999 8784 343 332.
What happens to Rush? Oh, it's ugly.
Let's just say cocaine, qualudes, weed, viagra and scotch don't mix real good with autoerotic asphyxiation. Well, actually they mix real good. For us.
Rush Limbaugh: RIP 6.27.08.
Ann Coulter dies bad too. I see a mob. I see torches.
Just kidding. That's Sean Hannity.
Actually, I kill Ann Coulter. And I get a medal from President Black.
President Jack Black. And VP Kyle.
10.04.21. Rock and Roll.
Oh- extra credit: Kissinger goes right after th' new year.
TENACIOUS D: DOUBLE TEAM
Damn, a hard day's rockin'
Better slip off ma shoes
Maybe give a little stretch, and a bend
Dip m'toe to jacuzzi, baby
Slip out this book The Buttress of Windsor
Ho ho ho, who's this? How's it goin'?
That's the first thing I say to you.
How's it goin'?
Are you flowin'?
Listen honey,
Thinkin' 'bout a couple things to say to you,
Showin', growin'
Man I'd like to place my hand
upon your fuckin' sexy ass and squeeze
And squeeze!
Take off your blouse
And your underpants
Then take a look
'Cause here me and KG come naked
Out of the side-hatch
With the oils and perfume and incense
Now you're groovin'
Put on a cool '70s groove
A funky groove to fuck to
A funky groove to fuck to
Me, me and KG
It's all about sex supreme
We likes to cream jeans
Have you ever been worked on
By two guys who are hot for your snatch?
That's what I'm offerin' you
You step into our room
And then you smell the perfume
You lay upon our roundish bed
And then you feel a tickling on your head
It's KG with the feather and the French tickler
Look out baby he got the tools
And then you feel sumpin' down by your feet
It's me, it's JB, I'm suckin' upon your toes
We don't mind sucking on toes
Good luck finding a boyfriend who sucks toe, ow
Havin' sex with me and KG
Now you're talkin' double team supreme
Let's roll!
Oh!
What! Yeah! Huh! Nah! Oh!
Ah, that's it, that's right, ohmygah, oh-I-think-I'm-gonna, Ohh!
Deht! Deht! Eeee!
That was the one.
Hail Satan!
yeah, remember how I told you how that Kazhak gypsy told me my fate? Well, there was a bright side to learning the boring truth. I also learned th' fate of some other folks. That's why I'll be bringing you these revelatory snippets 'bout the fate of certain LITTLE RAPSCALIONS in coming days.
Let's start with these three chocklit starfish, shall we? Check it:
Fuckin' Makakastein! George Makakastein!
April 12, 2007: A delicate procedure to reattach fuckface's foreskin (rebuilt from forehead skin) goes wrong and his pecker gets infected and his brain melts like a fucking Hershey's kiss in a hooker's hip pocket. Sssquish.
And no, he ain't a fucking Senator when it happens in case you're curious. And th' fucking Lotto number is 1999 8784 343 332.
What happens to Rush? Oh, it's ugly.
Let's just say cocaine, qualudes, weed, viagra and scotch don't mix real good with autoerotic asphyxiation. Well, actually they mix real good. For us.
Rush Limbaugh: RIP 6.27.08.
Ann Coulter dies bad too. I see a mob. I see torches.
Just kidding. That's Sean Hannity.
Actually, I kill Ann Coulter. And I get a medal from President Black.
President Jack Black. And VP Kyle.
10.04.21. Rock and Roll.
Oh- extra credit: Kissinger goes right after th' new year.
TENACIOUS D: DOUBLE TEAM
Damn, a hard day's rockin'
Better slip off ma shoes
Maybe give a little stretch, and a bend
Dip m'toe to jacuzzi, baby
Slip out this book The Buttress of Windsor
Ho ho ho, who's this? How's it goin'?
That's the first thing I say to you.
How's it goin'?
Are you flowin'?
Listen honey,
Thinkin' 'bout a couple things to say to you,
Showin', growin'
Man I'd like to place my hand
upon your fuckin' sexy ass and squeeze
And squeeze!
Take off your blouse
And your underpants
Then take a look
'Cause here me and KG come naked
Out of the side-hatch
With the oils and perfume and incense
Now you're groovin'
Put on a cool '70s groove
A funky groove to fuck to
A funky groove to fuck to
Me, me and KG
It's all about sex supreme
We likes to cream jeans
Have you ever been worked on
By two guys who are hot for your snatch?
That's what I'm offerin' you
You step into our room
And then you smell the perfume
You lay upon our roundish bed
And then you feel a tickling on your head
It's KG with the feather and the French tickler
Look out baby he got the tools
And then you feel sumpin' down by your feet
It's me, it's JB, I'm suckin' upon your toes
We don't mind sucking on toes
Good luck finding a boyfriend who sucks toe, ow
Havin' sex with me and KG
Now you're talkin' double team supreme
Let's roll!
Oh!
What! Yeah! Huh! Nah! Oh!
Ah, that's it, that's right, ohmygah, oh-I-think-I'm-gonna, Ohh!
Deht! Deht! Eeee!
That was the one.
Hail Satan!
posted by Bobby Lightfoot at 21:03
1 Comments:
Wow! You mean when I get to the polls they'll be a D Ticket? Shit, they got my vote, man.
Or is that the poles? Prolly, yeah, unfortunately. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.
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