A clickhole in a donut shape
Clippin on them con badges so we know what plays
And keep a press pass, favorite pretty pony prolly Press Pass
Lowering the trilby on his eyes, “How’d you guess that?”
Presses hot, he’s the brony-type Picasso
We got premiere photos from a pony paparazzo
The Dashiell Hammett of horse porn
And of course the shit he’s writing is leaving no sorts bored
In horse boards, when petty thoughts become weird judgments
He’s a principal provider of the frontier justice
Beside desk, jars filled up with unclear substance,
Letters from Howard Stern like “Don’t come here, fuckstick.”
Hope to be the most viewed dude in the century
Not for any money, just the (you)s in parentheses
Like what’s the use in a spending spree
When you’re not crashing a lotta orgies for the viewership and mentionings

Preach, ‘sides he’s got enough for the con swag
And incidental networking prospects are not bad
Maybe not a job, but he’s open to try though
Keep nose to the grindstone when he goes through online posts
And theorizing - sitting high up on the fence of rumor
For angry fucks his best defense has been a sense of humor
Intentest doomer, fuck Daily he’ll present it sooner
Punching at the typewriter keys sat on a bench in Newark

Horse News, Horse News, motherfuckin Horse News
Horse News, Horse News, motherfuckin Horse News
In a game that’s got this much manure to rifle through
You’d be smart to go define a newer news cycle too

Horse News, Horse News, motherfuckin Horse News
Horse News, Horse News, motherfuckin Horse News
Today, I’m posting up this song acting cocky
Tomorrow they’ll be making fun of Cutie Pox and dox me