This year I thought I'd do away with celebrity-endorsed barbarism
And to keep the people guessing get a bio-diesel engine
to cut my carbon emissions
Further my career by trading favors with aged ravers
You know, use the barter system
But I sat on my black a** s**ing on sa**afras
In my apartment b**hing
Last year you were posing on the hood of a Lamborghini
In Gucci gla**es and a tan bikini
Dating Meg White, eating tiramisu
I was rapping at a test site, banned from TV
And in therapy too
For pulling firearms out of Jell-O molds
With a sinister grin the color mellow gold
Running from the Southland PD
Pompous posies your party's no fun
Yeah whooptie-do
You can't offset the OG's cardio-sponge
Yeah whooptie-do
Though you've made millions off us
Yeah whooptie-do
This year we're getting off our bu*ts
Yeah whooptie-do
Mutherf**er
Yeah whooptie-do
…
This year I thought I'd cover you
with a thicket of wet unwarranted smooches
Rather than entertain sore feelings at board meetings
with these corporate mooches
Or being run over by un-sober law enforcement douches
It's sensible that I'm a randy-romper,
a panty-dropper with these whorish pooches
Last year I was pa**ing out Green Party leaflets
When you're at the chalet on ski-trips
Getting neo-cons all peeved and miffed
Heaving and choking on beef-bits
Cuz I ain't appeasing sh**
Wearing tutus and a Bluetooth in a Subaru
Yeah you too
Can get your knees split, b**h
Pompous posies your party's no fun
Yeah whooptie-do
You can't offset the OG's cardio-sponge
Yeah whooptie-do
Though you've made millions off us
Yeah whooptie-do
This year we're getting off our bu*ts
Yeah whooptie-do
Mutherf**er
Yeah whooptie-do
Last year they made buoys out of bloated bodies in the Big Easy
And nobody liked what the
Blowed embodied yet they bit freely
Rappers used recording booths
like porti-potties being inexplicably cheesy
And I'm an out of work hobo
at the Mojave with a dripping squeegee
This year I'm going to make only one friend
This squatter girl at the opium den
Checking her viral load, wearing a bridal robe
Fresh off her codeine-drug bend
Cuz f@#$ them pop divas
They need pitch shifters and Brita pitchers
full of mixed liquor, I'm a clit piercer
Of that b**h n***a that manages you
Pompous posies your party's no fun
Yeah whooptie-do
You can't offset the OG's cardio-sponge
Yeah whooptie-do
Though you've made millions off us
Yeah whooptie-do
This year we're getting off our bu*ts
Yeah whooptie-do
Mutherf**er
Yeah whooptie-do