(the beat)

This one goes out to the girls I’ve loved

and all the girls I’ve told I could one day see myself loving

but never did

goes like this

(the beat)

Let freedom write

Julius C. bought a python nightlight

sent that bitch redeye, on the overnight

(kraits in crates)

to his main squeeze, who disagreed

but the crowd’s appeased

she’s shakin at the knees

gobs of venom circumvallating the snowbit chalet of her ovaries

I’m all for conspiracy theories

this one’s got letters of authenticity

and it goes on and on and on and onanism

on and on and on and onanism

I dance disco

blow over my impediments

write poetry on weekdays

got grandpa rollin over sediment

he wished I’d invested in a career in medicine

instead I’m dreamin up sublime freestylin

like my name is Tommy Edison

my pencil’s prehensile

words come easy as fillin in a stencil

aint no money so I drape myself in tinsel

a Christmas tree that dabbles in Scrabble

a prince among rabble

my Bingos commingle

the speaker’s bumpin my single

everything’s fine

‘til a fine dime says “Yo Kris Kringle,

Pass me the Pringles”

and it goes on and on and on and onanism

on and on and on and onanism