Magazine blanket, packin' three stank-tips
After three wanks and a nap and three sandwitches
Back at three, vanquished, rapping creep anguish
Grab a G-strang, bitch, It's Spike The Dragon
Cold-blooded predator of pornographic imagery
Born to catch the symmetry and floor it past the limit, mean
I'm fucking that... but when I'm done I'll fuck the rest of her
Own the rap game, so there is no fucking competitor
And so I jack it to magazines that I had
In the back of Chevrolet that I had to snag from my daddy
But as for me, I'm an addict, so drugs get rolled up emphatically
Sporadically, and after, I smack and I apple-jack for cheese
Better Cheddar, sticky like some wet snow
Wrap-Up Winter, then it's time to hit my next bowl
Lotta boxes what the kid sees
Usually keep my distance, but this instance
Hit it magically like Trixie
I guess that's what you'd call a friendship forever
When I send this genetic in, I blend shit together
But I make it better, she take the next dick whenever
When I grab a wire hanger, get to cleansing her nethers
(Fuck, I HATE horses!)

[Been spitting bars, hitting harder than a ground-pound
I'm stalking your Tumblr, you're stalking my Soundcloud]

I'm a hoof-beating
Cooked cretin
Fan-fiction book-reading
Crooked, horsefucking rapper
God damn it
Growing up, I was never treated as a someone
So I figured I was none
Dragon is above, son
And at the end of the day, even royalty is undone
Cause I make the Moon go down, and the Sun come
I keep a paddock and stack it up with whores sitting
Pretty in a massive stack of maggoty horseshit
What I mix, they take of it accurate four sips
And pass into gloriousness while I do the dirty work