Beep Beep Boop Beep

[Verse 1]

Hello, my friends
Listen to the story
Hello, my friends
This is the beginning of the end
Now, you humans know
That I'm just up above
You know
And I'm looking down upon you
And there's nothing that you can do
The ships are flying towards your rock
And we're going to motherfucking blast you off
In the Aaronaught, an air-fortress inhabited by the shadow-Rainbow government, Shaletlan, Supreme Commander Barack
Obama, a Reptilian hybrid, operates under the veil of the United States Congress, empowered and enacted by the God of Abraham

[Verse 2]

Monitoring the prayers of God’s chosen by leveraging the Internet, Insect drones, and satellites to spy upon individuals to identify and
Grant their greatest desires, while working to obliterate the rogue Comma splices and run-on sentences of the multiverse
Yo
Stop. Let's get this right
If this book is received how I dream it may be
The critics will say I’ve written it invaluably
I'll be world-renown, through all of the ages
They’ll call me ‘the warlock’, another one of the mages
My skill is innate, and I'm going straight to the top
I won’t stop till I drop, or this fucking rap flops
If life were a game I’d be skipping all of the stages
Knocking everyone off and warping where the wage is
Like the press that drops a dollar bill, I'm turning all the pages
Of the Book of Life with the rest of the divine sages

[Verse 3]

Nah, fuck that, I wrote the Book of Life
It's sitting up on the shelf to my right
And I did it without anyone’s help
The fuck?
What the...?
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
What the fuck?
Holy fuck, I think I just blew my mind
There's really a book that says “Life” on the spine
I’m on the flow and I’m outside of time
I think I'm in trouble, I think I'm starting to see double
If I was a spoil of soup, I’d definitely be a bubble
Is that poop?
Where the fuck is this coming from?
I don't know

[Verse 4]

But wherever my mouth takes me
Is exactly where I’ll go
Hey, yo. Fuckwad, this is my rap
This is my journey toward the Higher Self, so take a look
As I crack open a Twinkie behind my feet
And eat it with my anus, because I feel the need to cheat
Oh, what? A prophet shouldn’t talk like this?
Ask the Mormons I prophesied to if I give a piss
Left-justified text says a poem is what this is
But it could just be the splattered black jizz
Of an Ink Canister Man from Typewriter’s Ville
I’m in a funky mood, but I’ll rhyme three times still
No wait, you dumb fuck that was only twice
I’d better wash my god damned hair before I come down with lice
Yo

[Outro]

Alright
Here we go
Here we go, go
Here we go